les Davey de France

Alan and Pat live and work in Bordeaux. Alan is a pastor and Pat was a nurse. Now we work with UFM worldwide. Read on! (If you'd like to know what took us to Bordeaux, then start with the archives from September 2004)

Thursday, July 27, 2017

Am I sleepwalking, perhaps?

We have these wristband gizmos that do all kinds of things.

If you're indoors and can swivel your arm at the right speed or poke a receptor successfully it'll tell you the time.

Not only that, but coupled with an application on your phone it will tell you how many steps you've taken, how far you've walked or run, your average stride, the distance travelled, your maximum heart rate while exercising and your heart rate at any given moment. It's wonderful. If you wear the thing overnight it'll even detect when you fall asleep and when you wake up and tell you how long you spent in deep sleep.

Every now and agin they update the software on the phone and on he wrist band.

Lats time I went to the UK, because I'd be spending all day sat in a conference and travelling lots by underworld railway and bus and stuff I left the thing at home. When I cam back I charged it up, updated the software and since then it's gone nuts.

Apparently I don't do deep sleep any more. In fact I hardly sleep at all. Instead, overnight, I trot about doing something in the order of 1 to 2 kilometres.

I asked Patricia if I sleepwalk. She's fairly convinced that I don't.

Well I have no other explanation except that the thing has gone wrong.
Still works for my morning runs, though.



Politics!

I'm not saying a lot about it.

For one thing there's so much one could say: about Brexit, Trump, May, Macron, the whole kit and caboodle.

For another thing there's so much rancour and aggression: about Brexit, Trump, May, the whole kit and caboodle.

So I'm keeping my trap shut.


Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Pat's new passport has arrived

and we are thankful.

We have no plans to use it until October, but we can now book those flights to Munich for the International Churches' Pastors' Conference - with Glen Scrivener.


Monday, July 24, 2017

Retreat! Retreat!

Well that was funny. I could see that it was raining a little before I even put my shoes on, but by the time I got to the corner of the vineyard it was clear that the rain was too heavy and that it was increasing. So I turned round, went home and ate my porage.


Saturday, July 22, 2017

The French café, becoming extinct?

If you're a bit confused about cafés, bistrots, brasseries, restaurants, this won't help at all.

There is a version of this film in English, too, below the French version.




and in English:

Excuse my French

Today the new "Excuse my French Café" was advertising a brunch at 8,50€, so I suggested an adventure to Mrs Davey and at about 12:30 we set off.

Tram B is now repaired and all is well, so we hopped on the tram to take us to the Musée d'Aquitaine where we'd walk down Cours Victor Hugo to the street where the café is situated. 

At Peixotto we were told that the tram in front had broken down. The helpful public transport app on my phone said that to get were we wanted to go we could either take tram B or walk for an hour. So we started to walk.

Two stops later along came the tram, so on we hopped - or rather on we squeezed. We were many, and packed in tight. We didn't fall down but at every stop as the doors opened we popped out and had to press ourselves back in. It was good to arrive at Cours Victor Hugo.

Well the café was charming, run by an Anglo-French couple, brunch consisted of scrambled eggs with feta cheese and red peppers, porage with nuts and raisins, and strawberries and cherries to finish up, all served with a nice big pot of Earl Grey tea and lots of good humour. 



We sat in the window and watched the world go by. The café is in the street that leads down to the Place Saint Michel, and on Saturday mornings there's a huge market, mostly run by North Africans. You can by Moroccan mint, coriander and parsley in huge bunches, freshly picked that morning in the herb fields of the Atlas Mountains.  You can buy a live chicken and have it dispatched and prepared while you watch or take it home trussed up and sort it out yourself. 

Then off home to cut the grass and finish preparing for tomorrow.  

Those Antony Gormley statues

are everywhere. There's one perched right at the edge of the roof of the town hall building way up high above the city. A friend posed his children for a fake family foto with one, but you do have to position the kids carefully if you do that.

Meanwhile:


Works everywhere!

So it's the Grande Braderie, the long weekend at the end of the sales where there are stalls in the street, some selling end of line bargains from the shops behind, some selling varied ranges of clothes, toys, gadgets of varied quality at attractive prices. Best avoided, frankly, but this is not the general opinion because the streets are flooded with torrents of people.

Meanwhile yesterday I had a solid and weighty parcel to take to the Post Office. I dread it, then rise to the challenge, vigilantly looking for the little gaps you can slide through to get where you need to be through the slowly moving crowd. But I still took the long way back, avoiding the shopping street, weaving through the back lanes.

Meanwhile in theory today Tram B is back in action. At the same time there are major roadworks in Pessac that have resulted in most bus routes being diverted. Much confusion. Also Place de la Victoire has been closed to traffic so it's completely inaccessible to buses and trams.

In short, chaos.

But we went to visit the brethren meeting room and see how the works were progressing. The key was not in place so we couldn't get in, but looking through the windows it's clear that some major works have happened. It is not inconceivable that it may be open for August. If not, then we'll continue to meet here until moving back in in September.




Thursday, July 20, 2017

Tram B, Bus 15, Bus 24 ... oh boy oh boy oh boy

Last week poor tram B broke down NUMEROUS times. So this week they're working on the rails from Musée d'Aquitaine to Peixotto - a distance of some 5 km, it must be.

This means that no buses or trams can pass through la Place de la Victoire, one of the hubs of Bordeaux. One poor elderly man was trying to get from Palais de Justice to Victoire today, and there was no way he could do it, except by walking.

Then there's the impact on the buses - bus 4 has been STUFFED with people. Absolutely stuffed. I switched to bus 24 and came home that way. Pat managed to get on a bus 4 later.






Wednesday, July 19, 2017

New trews!

Some time ago I got these new chinos, very racy (for me) a kind of terracotta colour. To me they were a daringly reddish colour. To anyone else in the whole world they're brown. Anyway, I have loved these trousers, but now the sun has faded them to a kind of comfortable colour of wet sand. I still love them, but they are not a uniform colour and they look... old and loved.

So for some time I have known I must get some new trews.

Not only that but running has taken a few centimetres off here and there, so my trousers now often remind of old curtains that never had the tapes adjusted - they kind of hang from my belt in irregular, scruffy swags. If I want to avoid this I can slide the excess round, gather it and have a kind of pleated area at the back. I can't imagine what this looks like but until my neck is a whole lot more flexible I will never be confronted with it so hey...

Alternatively I can just let the belt go with the trousers and have a kind of low-slung look, a bit like those off the shoulder blousey gypsy bodice things... I was forced to do this at the airport when I took my belt off to go through the scanner, but you can't walk far like that, especially not carrying something. Enough said.

So I went by bus to Carrefour, my preferred trews emporium, and I went down a size. I found three pairs of trews that would do. A nice quality navy pair that was too big, and a khaki pair and a beige pair, both of inferior quality but the right size and significantly cheaper. You gotta get the right size, haven't you, and the khaki pair looked like I'd fallen in nasty, sticky mud, so I've gone beige.


The threatened storm came,

set fire to a house in Saint-Médard and needed 30 calls to the emergency services to deal with fallen branches etc.


When things come together

1) ‘The degree to which people are self-absorbed is pretty shocking’: Seth Stephens-Davidowitz. in the Guardian

2) Blog posts that begin - the first words: "I have...", "I am...", "I am...", "I was...", "I'm going to...", from the front page of a popular Christian blog.


3) Contemporary Christian Culture with its big conferences where guys are up talking about big stuff.

4) I read recently that sanctification consists largely in thinking of oneself less. 

5) C S Lewis famously said that humility is not thinking less of yourself so much as thinking of yourself less.

6) B J Thompson (who's he?) recently said "the most obvious sign of pride isn't boasting, it's lack of prayer."

7) Jason Meyer : The Bible’s answer to our fallen self-obsession is a great work of grace in the gospel that creates a worshipful obsession with God. Pride is defeated decisively at conversion, progressively in sanctification, and totally at glorification — where we experience ever-increasing, everlasting, white-hot worship of God. The day is coming when God alone will be exalted. It will be the worst day for unbelievers and the happiest day for all Christians.

The more I fall in love with Him the less I am in love with me!

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

It's so HOT

They forecast 38°C for today, and as I wended my weary way homeward from the Maison de la Bible this afternoon, sometimes it felt like much, much more.

The thing I noticed was that if you kept in the shade then you were well hot, but there was a cooling breeze. 

However, if you strayed into direct sunlight, then not only was the atmosphere hot, you also got the direct heating effect of the strong sunshine AND even the breeze seemed to be hot as a hairdryer.

Anyway, they forecast storms for 7pm, followed by cooler temperatures. 

As I type, at 8:15pm, the sun is still blazing down and there is no sign whatsoever of a storm, of a weaker sun or of lower temperatures.

These forecasters, they know nothing. 


Monday, July 17, 2017

Our new barbecues

When we moved we got rid of the Griffin Memorial Barbecue - a massive structure resembling half an oil drum that the Griffins had bequeathed to us when they left Bordeaux;

To be honest we seldom used it - it was so huge it took the best part of a sack of charcoal just to cover the bottom and once you got the thing lit it would take days to go out.

So we found an electric barbecue, very posh, wooden handles and a grill in cast iron. It weighed a ton, but it worked pretty well. We used that when cooking for small numbers of people and the Griffin Black Hole of Fire when feeding the forty thousand, as my mother would say.

As I said, when we moved to the flat we got rid of the Griffin Memorial Barbecue - I remember the satisfying CLASH as it plummeted into the scrap metal skip at the dump - but what happened to the electric barbecue nobody knows. We must have sold it. But why? Why?

Anyway last Friday we needed to make good this error because we told folk that the service at our flat on Sunday evening would be followed by a barbecue...

This means a trip to the hypermarket in the centre of town.

I had surveyed the range available on Amazon and fancied a couple of nice ones. Of course, at Auchan they were MUCH cheaper, so we ended up coming home with an electric plancha and an electric barbecue grill.

Sunday night saw the grill loaded with sausages and the plancha laden with burgers.

Good times, eh.


Tram B bother

Tram B had a bad week last week. In fact, I think it's had a bad month. It's been breaking down a lot.

Someone said on Sunday, "Tram A is the most reliable, then tram C, but tram B is atrocious".

This is important because the trams run smoothly and are air-conditioned so when it is hotter than a roast chicken's ... interior the tram is by far the nicest way to come home.

But all this week there's no tram B while they try and fix the recurring problems.

And it's hot as Nebuchadnezzar's burning fiery furnace heated seven times just now.

Never mind.

Onto Bus 4 we must all cram our sweaty selves and ooze our way back to Pessac together.





Thursday, July 13, 2017

The pastor as shaman and the pastor as conjuror

It's a long time since I went off on one (gave in to the temptation to rant) so here goes:

The pastor as shaman

I think I did write about this before, a woman who was thrilled after asking me to pray for her, and me happily doing so, to find that I am a pastor. Did I also write about the time I was in a church service where people could come to the front for prayer at the end of the service and I was invited to go down and pray for people, too. "You're a pastor, come and pray for people."

Now don't get me wrong, I hope I'll never vote against prayer - unless it becomes a substitute for action - and I'm very happy to pray for people habitually and specifically.

But the pastor's prayer is not worth more than anyone else's. The pastor is not some kind of shaman, invested with more spiritual power than other people.

The pastor as conjuror

That was a tricky one, and I can hear the word "but..." arising in my own heart as well as in yours, gentle reader.

But this next one may be trickier still - the pastor is not some kind of conjuror where what he has to do is find the right form of words and the magic happens. We are in danger of treating expository preaching like the mediaeval Catholic Church regarded the sacraments - ex opera operato - you do the hard work, you learn how to do it, you prepare, you research and you do the exegesis and the application, then you preach and - hey presto - "the power is in the word" and it works.

No, it isn't like that. It still takes urgent, earnest, believing prayer and the kind of attitude that sees that without the Saviour all we can do amounts to nothing.

I raise this because I really think that we are starting to get hung up on our techniques and prayer is becoming perfunctory at best, absent at worst. We believe that we can do it. Aaarrggghhhhh! That way leads to formalism and death.


Taxe d'Habitation from 2018

Here's a turn-up for the books.

At present in France the amount we are paid is below the threshold where a four-person family pays income tax.

When we lived in our own house in Passaic Alouette we were liable for two other taxes.
Taxe Foncière is paid by people who own property and is based on the value of your home.
Taxe d'Habitation is paid by people who occupy property.

Since we no longer own our own home we are no longer liable for Taxe Foncière, so we just pay Taxe d'Habitation.

Now one of M. Macron's election pledges was that he would abolish axe d'habitation for 80% of French people. He plans to do this by introducing a threshold below which you do not pay it. We fall below that threshold.

This means that if M. Macron's plan goes ahead, from 2018 (probably from 2019, because you usually pax this year the tax on last year) we won't pay any direct tax in France, only indirect taxes like VAT, etc.


Further details turned up at lunchtime - the plan would be implemented in three stages, so there'd be a reduction of a third next year, two-thirds the year after and total exoneration the following year.


Deeply boring if you write about it.

So much of what I do is not really bloggable. For example this morning I have to catch up on reading and also search for suitable photos for our new website that someone is working on and which we hope to release in September.

Monday, July 10, 2017

Chocolat chantilly

After the great chick pea juice discovery I stumbled upon this: Chocolat chantilly.

This is, apparently, a genuine French recipe developed by a genuine French chef, I forget who, around I think the 1940s. I hope that is vague enough. Anyway, if you search for it you will find it described as chocolate mousse or chocolat chantilly. The recipes I have seen all vary. Some use equal weight of chocolate and water. Some use less water than chocolate. Some use hot tea instead of water. I wonder what a nice, light, jasmine china tea would bring to the mix. Another recipe uses half water, half orange juice.

Anyway, this was my recipe for yesterday:

350g of dark chocolate broken into small pieces. The recipes all say to use the best 70% chocolate. I used supermarket own brand 50%.

270ml of hot water.

Then whisk until the chocolate is dissolved into the water. Once you have a runny liquid with no lumps put your whisking bowl over an ice bath and continue to whisk until the mixture becomes dull and begins to thicken. Decant it into your serving bowl and put it in the fridge to wait.

It was SO GOOD!

What I learned in practice:

I used an electric mixer and I am sure this helped a lot.

I used two identical glass salad bowls and placed the one with the chocolate inside the one with the ice and water. As a result I got chocolate all over me and the kitchen walls. Next time I will use a deeper, straight-sided bowl to whisk in.

The mousse set quite solid, so next time I will try using equal quantities of water and chocolate, and perhaps I'll use a nice scented tea, just to see.

Wednesday, July 05, 2017

You're going to find me... under the plum tree...

one of the things we miss about our old place at Pessac Alouette is the plum tree in the park, so on Monday we hopped on bus 4 and hopped off just by the park.

Sadly we were too late. The plum tree was surrounded by rotting plums trodden into the soft mould, and what few plums remained were up high, way out of reach.

However, there is a plum tree just on our running route, so on the way back we made a slight detour and, accompanied by one of our neighbours, gathered a goodly portion which Pat then made into a rather tart but wholesome conserve.

We just went out again, in the raging afternoon heat, and garnered another goodly portion from the topmost branches, which Patricia hopes to turn into crumbles.

When she gets some more sugar.

Having used up all our sugar on Monday. (see above)


Monday, July 03, 2017

Bordeaux is now just two hours away from Paris by train

Well they did it!

They built the new LGV Ligne à Grande Vitesse so that the TGV Train à Grande Vitesse could travel very fast à Grande Vitesse all the way from Paris to Bordeaux. Previously the train slowed down suddenly after Tours, à petite vitesse.

They announced the inauguration of the line for 1 July 2017 and the commencement of the service from 2 July, and they hit the date. We are now just two hours from Paris.

The advantages of this:

We can get to Paris and back for the day, or for a day conference, or for a weekend conference without it feeling like we spent all day getting there and back.

The disadvantages:

Rail travel is still expensive in France.
The Parisians all plan to move to Bordeaux, inflating house prices, making the town centre very crowded and forcing us all to walk very quickly with our heads down, hissing and sighing.

Hahahaha!

Read in French les perles du bac here

And so

While I was in London at EMA, Pat was cleaning the flat from top to bottom, and not finding her passport.

She contacted the UK consulate in Bordeaux. It is possible to get emergency travel documents at a cost of 140€, with proof of address, proof of travel (airline tickets) etc. Of course, in addition, we need a replacement passport, too.

We talked about it and decided to change our summer plans. We had planned:

1 Second week of July, visit to Gwilym's future outlaws.
2 Third week of July, Keswick convention
3 Fourth week of July, UFM Family conference
4 Wedding in reading before flying home.

The fact of being away in July meant we would have to cancel Bordeaux Church services for the last three Sundays in July.

Instead we will continue church services through July and take holiday when Gwilym visits in August. Obviously, unless Pat's replacement passport comes in time, we'll have to stay in France, but current thinking is to find an AirBnB somewhere we've never visited, perhaps Pau, and explore. Maybe a trip to Lourdes?

So we emailed everyone and they'll be getting those messages as soon as they read their email in about an hour's time.



Friday, June 30, 2017

Coming back from EMA

I had time. My flight was from Gatwick at 18:45. The whole of London was before me, and a heavy bag was trailing behind me. I contemplated visiting the National Gallery, the British Museum, putting my bag in a cloakroom (do they still have them in museums?) dragging it up and down escalators in tube stations.

In the end I got on the bus for Brent Cross and went to see one of the joys of my life - the towels in John Lewis. I should have taken a photograph, really, but I just love those shelves and the way the colourful towels are arranged so neatly. If I could do one thing bring extra joy into our home it would be to stack towels in a small reflection of John Lewis' perfection.

After exploring Brent Cross - of course it was disappointing, but I always expected it would be, so in a funny kind of way it wasn't, I got a leisurely bad lunch in some fast food joint, then plotted my course for Gatwick airport. The C11 bus would take me to West Hampstead railway station, then a train to Brighton would take me straight to Gatwick. Wonderful! At West Hampstead the guy suggested that instead of buying a ticket I use my bank card on the swipe machines because it would be cheaper.

Gatwick airport was crowded and noisy. I bought some ghastly airport food. When did I get so picky?  I went to the quiet area to eat it and we all sat quietly listening to a lady talk on her mobile phone. I suppose she was doing that in the quiet area because in the rest of the airport she couldn't make herself heard. My flight was announced - delayed. I watched it on Flighttracker - the aeroplane was coming back from Ljubljana.

They announced the gate. I hared off down the corridors. 10 Minutes to gates 103 to 116 said the cheerful sign. That was when I hit a clot of people completely blocking the walkway. There was no possibility of bypass and no way to pass through. We were stuck.

Then I realised that we were moving. Ever so slowly, like people auditioning for a zombie apocalypse movie, we were oozing slowly through the corridor. Just ahead was a bifurcation. I needed to go left. The zombie army continued its inexorable trickle off to the right while I was off like a whippet to the left.

Speedy herding to the left. We sat and waited. Another announcement. There was a problem with the plane, the captain said it was going nowhere, they were waiting to see if we could have a change of plane. Fifteen minutes later we were on board the plane and waiting for a slot for take off.

I was so glad to see Bordeaux. Bus 1 took me to the centre of the city. Bus 4 back to friendly Pessac, the lime trees and the hooting owls. I got in at about midnight, far too pumped up to sleep.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

David Murray says something important

here.

EMA

Public transport seems really easy in London now, helped, of course, by the fact that EMA runs from 10:30 to 4:30, so allows you to avoid all the mad dash on the trains and underground. From Cricklewood there's a train that takes you almost to the Barbican, where the conference was to be held, and that first day my host guided me flawlessly from Farringdon station, past Smithfield Market to the huge concrete brutalist garden.

Singing for the conference was led by a pianist and two guitarists. The two guitarists were miked to sing, too. We currently believe that it is very difficult for any congregation of any size to sing without a miked up lead singer. I don't know why we developed this strong conviction or where it came from. Not long ago we managed pretty well without. Anyway, I digress.

The talks at EMA were divided into four strands:

Strand 1 : Morning Exposition, from Andy Gemmill.
These were "working out" sessions where Mr Gemmill examined Ephesians trying to establish from the text, as well as from Acts and Corinthians the purpose and details of parts of the letter.

Strand 2 : Varied talks
On day 1 we had a really helpful session from Garry Williams entitled "A Pen Portrait of Martin Luther". No pen was in evidence, instead Mr Williams spoke about Luther's theology of the cross in a very helpful, fresh and challenging way.

Days 2 and 3 saw Kevin DeYoung speak on the Mission of the Church, especially in his first message on the nature of sin. I was glad of this as it's one of the several bees in my bonnet, too. The second day saw him home in on Jesus' ministry in Mark, a kind of overview of Mark's gospel. RevKev is funny, self-effacing, charming, humble and very helpful. His approach to ministry is essentially confessional, rather than expositional, it seems to me, but that is fine and wholesome.

Strand 3 : Seminar groups
I attended days 1 and 2 of the "Rethinking Mission" stream. Not to mince my words, I felt that these were poor. We didn't really rethink anything, though we did hear from some clergypersons from a variety of different places how they are trying to reach immigrants. I skipped the third session.

Strand 4 : Closing exposition
The first came from a minister from Singapore who has a thriving ministry and a smiling wife. He preached on John 3:16.  The second was a fine message from Graham Beynon on 1 Peter chapter 2, challenging our individualism. The third came from Vaughan Roberts on Revelation 11, aiming to bring strength in suffering.

Other highlights: 
Lunch with Gethin Jones, recently returned from Westminster Seminary and settled for a year in Ealing International Presbyterian Church before coming to Paris.
Lunch with Myriam, renaissance woman currently working as an analyst in London but who is also a successful sports photographer and was a piano teacher in Bordeaux.
Brief chats with Fiona, with Spencer, with Graham, with my old second-best-man, Gary Brady and with the pastor of an excellent old friend who lives somewhere in Kent.
A cheeky breakfast in Paul, a French patisserie etc. just by Smithfield Market. It was OK, not really like in Bordeaux.


Tuesday, June 27, 2017

What I learned about Easyjet

Pat and I got up all excited. Today we were flying to London to go to EMA, the Evangelical Ministry Assembly. In addition we would be able to run amok through London. Yipppeeeee!

I printed out the boarding cards and got our passports out of the special folder. Alan's, Catrin's. Pat's?

No passport for Pat. So began the long hunt. The long and exhaustive hunt. The long, exhaustive and all-encompassing hunt. The long, exhaustive, all-encompassing and fruitless hunt.

So there I was sat on the Easyjet plane with an empty seat beside me, when a young woman came up the aisle, looking at the seat numbers and sat in it.

Long story short, Easyjet overbook their flights. They're allowed to overbook by up to 10%. This lady had bought a ticket for the flight on the day before, when all the seats were full. She checked in at the airport to be told that no seats were available, it was overbooked, but that as she was the first person on the waiting list there was a strong possibility that she would get a seat. And she got Pat's.

Story moral. Check-in online, as long before your flight as possible.


Monday, June 26, 2017

The story of Dan and Nancy Painter

On the other hand, maybe we need to mobilise the grey army?

Read about it here.

Man, that's timely

Feeling encouraged and discouraged, hopeful and frustrated in equal measure at the moment about the progress of the gospel here in Bordeaux.

Some years ago we were very concerned for Mérignac. Now there's three or four churches newly there - a new ADD church plant, a CMA church plant and a big charismatic church relocated there from Talence. It does leave a hole in Talence, mind.

Meanwhile, on the more frustrating side, who can dare to come and pioneer in Bordeaux and in its suburbs? Our guys in their 30s need to be assistant pastors in settled churches and work in teams before they can get enough experience to begin church planting. That means they'll begin to pioneer when they're 40 or 50. It's what we did, but it's hardly ideal. We're old, tired out and hide bound, and due to retire before long, and we need young, flexible people with decades of service before them.

I wonder whether we need to lower the entry age to seminaries and training institutions?

Maybe if we took people into seminary at 10?
They'd need a few years work experience behind them, of course, but we used to do that in South Wales in the mines...

Just thinking...



Leaving for the Evangelical Ministry Assembly

Our flight was at lunchtime so we had plenty of time to pack and leave for the airport. The 10:30 bus 42 to Mérignac, then the 1 to the airport. I printed out the boarding cards and got our passports from the special cloth wallet.

"Where's your passport, dear?"

So it was that I left on bus 42 and Pat waved me off. Since then the flat has had the cleaning of its life, and no passport has emerged. This has brought further consequences which I will explain later.

An uneventful flight to Gatwick and a leisurely journey across London to Cricklewood where I was to stay with some friends during EMA.


Sunday, June 25, 2017

Back on the trot

It felt good, though a tiny bit ... breathless? ... to be back on the trail this morning.

I didn't run during the heatwave. The government told us to avoid physical effort. Also we weren't sleeping very well. And it was already HOT first thing in the morning.

So it was good to be back out today, even though I had to take a few breathers!


Saturday, June 24, 2017

Ed Stetzer sometimes drives me nuts, and sometimes makes me cheer...

but here, I think he is saying something very important.


I walked up the stairs in our house.

Our big, old house with its dark varnished, turned balustrades.

As I climbed the winding flights of stairs towards the attic room I was startled to see all the toys were moving around. No-one else was there, but the toys were just wandering back and fore, randomly.

"What's going on here?" I asked the toys. Well there was no-one else to ask, was there?

"Nothing's going on. You're just schizophrenic", came the toys' reply.

Much later when I woke at 10 to 8, too late for a run, I remembered my dream.

Here's some photos, though












Oh dear! What a gap!

Sorry chaps! It's been one of those times when it's hot, you charge as slowly as possible from one thing to another and lots of deadlines loom large.

Meanwhile we're encouraged, but feel discouraged.

Probably the result of tiredness from the heat, as well as the bigness of our ambitions for the city and the smallness of our resources and talents.

Oh well. Loaves and fishes, I suppose. Loaves and fishes.


Tuesday, June 20, 2017

When the pharmacy thermometer says 41°C

We're on heatwave alert here. That's when it's over 30 in the day and still in the 20s at night. It means you heat up and you never cool down. Not never. Not at all.

Our secret weapon is shutters, so we open the windows ni the morning to change the air in the flat, then we close everything down and live in the gloom till the sun has shifted from the terrace. Then we can afford to open the shutter on the big window to the terrace and let some light in.

Yesterday when Pat got back from her trip to the doctor (routine, nothing serious) she found the firemen attending to one of our elderly neighbours, a man who lives on the second floor. We've never been able to have a chat with him and he keeps himself to himself, so we don't know which flat he lives in, even. He had fallen on the path outside the flats. The firemen had brought him into the cooler corridors.

Pat took some water out and also gave him our phone number so he has someone to ring, just in case. If we knew which flat he is in we'd dare to knock now and again, just to check he's OK.

The heat is forecast to stick around till Thursday.



Monday, June 19, 2017

I'm sorry but this time we can't help

Escape and Pray sent people to Bordeaux again on Friday and they phoned me for help.

The idea, I think, is loosely based on  Luke 10, and consists of sending folk out with a return airline ticket to a city to meet people, to find out about their situation and to pray. The folk sent don't take any money, credit cards or whatever. They depend on the people they are sent to, who don't know they are coming.

Generally the folk don't know where they will be sent, and don't speak French, so they ring my number, which is on the Bordeaux Church website. At the moment.

Last time it was a group of Dutch guys who arrived on the weekend of the 18th December last year. They joined us for a meal and ended up staying at James' place.

This time two Dutch guys phoned while we were waiting for the judges' deliberation in the music exam.

"I can't speak now, I'm in an examination."
"Is there a meal in your house? Can we come?"

I sent them the address, but it was too far for them to come. They explained who they were. My heart sank. Everyone in the centre of town who could conceivably accommodate them was away from home for the weekend, and we already had a young woman sleeping on our couch.

"Can we sleep in the church?"
"We don't have a church."

In the end I gave them a list of numbers from the www.eglises.org website and hoped for the best.

In the worst of cases they'd be OK sleeping in the streets with the homeless.
It's hot, the city has lots of safe places and there's drinking water available in the squares.

I also contacted the organisation that arranges "Escape and Pray" to ask them not to send people to Bordeaux, or at least to suggest that they please don't phone Bordeaux Church. You know, we're not a big group of people in a country area with garages, barns and spare bedrooms. We're a small bunch of folk on modest incomes living in small apartments in a very expensive city, and we can't do this.

It's pretty lethal out there

but we're hiding inside behind our radiation shields and keeping well hydrated!

Temperatures are set to hit 39°C today (that's in the shade) and we are on heatwave alert, so we're keeping the shutters down and drinking lots!

Heatwave alerts are issued when the temperature is set to reach above 30 in the daytime and stay above 20 all night for at least.three days, I think, which means that you never get to cool down at all.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

It's strange what we Daveys do for fun

So on Friday evening we all took a singing exam.

It made for an exciting Friday because we had rehearsal with the (excellent) accompanist at 15h30, Charlotte from OM was arriving at 16h, then I had a meeting at 17h, then we had the Home Group at 19h, then the exam at 20h.

We reserved a Citiz car, and that made it all go surprisingly smoothly!

The exam?

Well there were 9 singers and two examiners; the director of the local music school and the conductor of the choir I sing in. (I was HORRIFIED when I saw that it was him!)

People sang a wide range of song, from a Stromae rhythm and rap number through Fauré songs through to Mozart opera. It was an entertaining time.

Of the Daveys Pat sang first. She sang a popular song in French called Syracuse, which is a kind of nostalgia for travel. "I'd really like to see Syracuse and various other places before I get too old to store up memories for when I'm in Paris." Rough translation.

Then me. I had a recital and aria in Italian from the Marriage of Figaro, where Figaro is sore vexed that the Count is planning to have his wicked way with Susanna, Figaro's fiancée. It's great fun, with quiet bits, fast bits, loud bits and soft bits, and I quite enjoyed singing it, though I didn't at all enjoy watching the video that Pat made of me.

Then Catrin with a difficult aria I know nothing about in Italian by someone called Giacomo Carissimi, "Vittoria". She sang sweetly and with great fluidity.

While you sing everyone is in the room, candidates, examiners, kit and caboodle, and once everyone has sung you are chased out while the examiners deliberate. Then you're all called in and you stand in a row to hear the examiners' verdict. It's all quite theatrical, but done in good humour.

We returned, relieved, to the home group where people had been discussing why we believe that Jesus rose from the dead, a subject I suggested we discuss in the light of Gwilym's good mark for an essay recently on the subject.


Thursday, June 15, 2017

When the insurance man comes

So the Expert from the insurance company came at 9 on Monday. He may have been a couple of minutes late. At any rate he apologised for his lateness. Then we got to work.

I gave him the list of things taken and all the receipts that I had dug out.

He then added, converted pounds to euros, applied his depreciation rate and ... wrote a cheque.

I hadn't expected a cheque to come straight away. I scuttled off to the bank and paid it in quickly!

Now we're almost back to where we started. We are equipped as regards computers.

The big question concerns what we do about cameras.

Pat had a 2005 FZ3. An excellent camera, though it had only 3MP and is now worth nothing.
The equivalent would be about 300€ for a FZ300.

I had a 2007 TZ1. Again an excellent camera, it had 5MP and again is now worth nothing.
The equivalent? Who knows!

Both of us generally use our phones for photography now.
The best camera is the one you have with you.

Neither of us fancies lugging a big super-zoom on Easyjet back and fore to Blighty.
At the same time a long zoom camera is very useful for weddings, for city photography and so on.
But why pay lots of money for something you'll use very little?

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Antony Gormley has come to Bordeaux

Well, his bronze men have.
I'll take a photo some time soon, but meanwhile here's an article about it.

Back on track - well kinda

First a word of explanation.
Hot.

It's hot here.
Very hot.
The kind of hot where you just cat-nap all night, skimming over the surface of sleep like a stone on a lake.

But I thought, if not now, then when.
So I donned my special running socks, my special running trews and my special running shoes, plus yesterday's tee-shirt, and ventured out.

Boy was it hot. Not only that but the first drops of the approaching storm were falling.
But I made it to the château and back, and next time it will be easier.

Monday, June 12, 2017

The hire car

We agonised about hiring a car, mainly because I hate pretty much everything about it. I hate driving in the UK now. I hate the busy motorways. I hate parking in supermarket car parks. I hate driving down rough lanes and driveways. I hate the little stones that fly up on the motorway and knock against some part of the car.

We hired a Kia Rio from GreenMotion - diesel, comfortable, nippy enough and plenty of room. As we picked it up the guy said he'd checked the tyres. We loaded up and set off.

Two days later the tyre pressure sensor told us to check the tyres. We did. One was going down. So we topped it up every two days till we were within reach of the excellent Buckley Tyres, who removed a nail and repaired the tyre.

Apart from that our time with the car was uneventful and we returned it safe and sound.

I've never had a problem with a hire car. In fact, this puncture was the worst problem I've ever had. Pretty good really, eh? But still I hate hiring cars!


Getting back in the swing.

My week is calm, but the weekend is nuts, especially Friday.

Of course, there's a reason for that.
Two conferences to which I am not going, at Bala, and at Evian-les-Bains.

But it means I can catch up a bit.


Arriving back

We left Liverpool on a grey day.
It had rained. It was not raining, but it would soon rain. It was about 14°C.

We arrived in Bordeaux to scorching sunshine and 35°C.

And the lime trees are still fragrant.


Sunday, June 11, 2017

What happened to June?

I packed lots of shirts, two light sweatshirts and a thin nylon pacamac.

Big mistake. We needed thick sweaters and fleeces!


Saturday, June 10, 2017

We're back!

Hi all!
Sorry for the unannounced hiatus.
We've been in the UK for two weeks.
Two cold, wet, hectic weeks.
I'll post a few trivia soon.
But we're relieved to be back in France and WARM and DRY!

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Those lime trees

Yesterday I smelt their scent as I walked up the road.
It's wonderful.

Sweet, honeyed, but not strong and insistent, like the honeysuckle, the mock orange or even the roses.
It's more delicate, and the butterflies love the trees.