margaret21

Freedom for Catalonia!

We stopped off in Berga on our way to Barcelona. It’s a mediaeval city with a strong history of republicanism. In May 2012 for instance, the town council declared King Juan Carlos to be ‘persona non grata‘. Nobody’s likely though, to be keen on a king who goes elephant hunting in Africa as his country plunges ever deeper into recession.

Now its cause of choice is Catalan independence. I’m not going into the arguments here. Though sauntering along various Ramblas on a September evening as friends and families pop into a bar for a drink, or to a restaurant for dinner, it’s hard to accept their definition of themselves as an oppressed people; or to take entirely seriously their view that they and, for instance, the Kurds, are all in it together.

Mooch up and down the narrow alleys of Berga with us and look at the posters, the slogans, the street art which are such a feature of this town. A young man stopped me as I was snapping away. ‘We don’t all think that way here’ he said. But he admitted that he was in a minority .

A Catalan MP suspended and imprisoned for his part in the illegal independence referendum of October 2017.

Feminism and socialism are frequent bedfellows with the Independence movement.

We carry a new world in our hearts.

Click on any image to see it full size.

The Car Park of Destiny.

It’s a long time since I’ve updated you about my daughter Ellie. Here, in her own words, is the latest instalment.

Fanny the Champion of the World

I haven’t written an update for a while, and to be honest, I’ve been enjoying getting back to normality (and trying to learn how to parent teenagers), with limited success. I think that writing Fanny through my grief and treatment was my way of releasing stress when I had nobody else to tell. Now, I do have someone to tell, who loves me deeply, but with that happiness and contentment has come a bit of Writers’ Block. Our stories don’t end as long as we’re alive, but perhaps I wanted Fanny to have her happy ending, and I wasn’t sure if there really was any such thing.

In fact, I suppose I thought a new beginning had come instead – in July last year, when my husband’s ashes were interred in the graveyard of the church where he and I had married 15 years before, almost to the day. I’d…

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Ragtag Tuesday: Driving. England; France; Spain. What a contrast!

We’ve just landed home from our epic car journey through France and Spain. 2,715 miles on the clock. The worst of those miles were those completed here in the UK.

This morning near the Blackwall Tunnel, London.

I’m not being entirely fair. We had more than a few traffic-jam moments in Barcelona and Toulouse, but we’ve also enjoyed miles and miles of empty motorways and other roads, particularly in France, where driving was nothing but relaxing.

RN 20 near Pamiers, France.

What really makes a difference though, are the motorway service areas. I’ve written before about France’s quiet uncommercial aires, which complement the ones with restaurants, shops and all the trimmings. Even these can be havens of peace though. Look at the Aire de la Porte de Corrèze. Yes, it’s got all the usual facilities. But it’s got space and peace too: a country path, a woodland walk, and a quiet pond.

Now look at the ‘Extra’ service area on the A1 M near Peterborough. Outside space is strictly for parking in. Land is scarce and ruinously expensive in the UK of course. But if only we could have stretched our legs and breathed a little fresh air as we took a break in our journey north. It would have made so much difference.

Today’s Ragtag challenge is ‘Contrast’.

PS. I arrived home to some good news from the Police in Barcelona. They have recovered certain items following last week’s thefts. I still don’t know what. Watch this space!

The road north……

We left Barcelona.

Past Monserrat….

We drove north through the Pyrenees, both in Spain and in France…..

Used the mirrors to glance back and back till we could no longer see the mountains……

Through the edge of the Lauragais, south of Toulouse…..

….reaching Cahors by the evening.

Much of the next day was spent in the flatlands of central France, in the Touraine…..

And now we’re with friends in Normandy, on the border of both Mayenne and Manche.

Which landscape would you choose?

Inspired by the Middle Ages

Mediaeval encampment at the Château de Lagarde.

Our third address in France was within a couple of miles of a splendidly ruined castle, Lagarde, commanding wonderful view of the Pyrenees. And on Saturday, there was an event which commanded our attention from 10 o’clock in the morning, till 10 o’clock at night when it closed (we did pop home several times, but always came back for more). I took masses of photos so I could share the day, but readers of my last post know why I no longer have the camera. These shots are courtesy of my phone.

It was an inspirational day. Dozens of enthusiasts from all over southern France came to share their knowledge. All were dressed authentically: linen was the material of choice – no cotton or polyester need apply. They brought history to life, demonstrating the labour-intensive nature of making chain mail armour, for instance. A chain mail tunic represented 400 hours of work, and cost as much as a farm. Attack someone dressed in one and you wouldn’t kill him. Far better to demand a ransom from the family of such a rich man.

We met a pilgrim on his way to Compostela, a shell at his belt.

We watched fighting spinning and weaving, musicians and dancing. There were thrilling demonstrations of horsemanship.

A procession towards the end of the day.

As night fell, the medieval world fell away. Jugglers and acrobats quite literally played with fire, and the event concluded with the most exciting and memorable firework display we have ever seen. I got some rather good pictures. Nobody will ever see them. Grrr.

It brought the Château de Lagarde to life. We had an inspirational glance of the life of a bygone age.

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is ‘inspire’.

Ragtag Tuesday: Migration difficulties

We’ve been on the move since my last post: firstly to friends near Laroque, then to Emily and Miquel in Barcelona. England – France – Spain – France and back to England again: passports required to get out of and back into England.

The trouble is, returning to England may prove tricky. No passports.

The first thing we did in Barcelona was to go and meet Emily and Miquel from their flight from Seville. I left Malcolm while I went to link up with them. A man wheeling a luggage trolley veered into the car, and so Malcolm jumped out to have words with him.

We were duped. As he did that, Luggage Trolley Man’s accomplice whipped my handbag out of the car. So …. no handbag, no purse, no credit cards, no camera with some 140 shots on it, some of which I wanted to share with you, no keys and NO PASSPORTS.

Thanks to Emily and Miquel, we’ve reported the whole thing to the Police, and since then we’ve applied online to the British Consulate for emergency travel documents. We’ve done every single piece of work towards getting these, and for a single-use piece of paper, we’ve been charged £100 each. New passports will be £75 each. Temporary migration for us was incredibly easy. Immigration – less so.

All the same, we’re having a high old time. We are neither political nor economic migrants. We need to keep things in perspective, and put it down to experience.

This week’s Ragtag Challenge is ‘migration’.

The sunflowers’ last stand

Inspired by Agnes Ashe’s recent blog post …..

Dying sunflowers, near Leran, Ariège.

Unconsidered trifles

We went to Foix today: county town of the Ariège, twinned with Ripon, not that anyone takes any notice of that.

It has a castle- a fairy tale castle if you’re that way out, or the scene of medieval jousting and chivalrous knights if you prefer. It’s a Proper Castle, anyway.

We always enjoy pottering down the city’s narrow little streets, and today these are what we found there…..

Mary Poppins?

Who knows?

…. and beneath our feet ….

…and later, in the mediaeval abbey church of Saint Volusien…….

And near the altar, marching above our heads….

……these jolly creatures were marching above us, near the high altar.

Click on any image to see full size.

Crepuscule Mark Two

My last post showed a sunrise over Corrèze. This is the sunset from our friends’ house in Laroque d’Olmes. You can’t see the Pyrenees from here, but the foothills, the Plantaurel.

Here’s the view from town.

Lovely as it is to see our friends (five hour lunch, eating, drinking, talking and laughing on a shaded terrace anyone?), Laroque has been a horrible disappointment.

Since we left, quelques petits commerces have closed. InterMarché has come to town. And McDonald’s. They’re building a Lidl, so I took a picture of the town through the webbing and netting of the building site. It’s not a small town any more. It’s one of those out-of-town roads lined with out-of-town stores. I’m just glad we no longer live here.

Ragtag Tuesday: Crepuscule in Corrèze

As we say goodbye to Corrèze for now, it seems fitting that the Ragtag word for today is ‘crepuscule‘. It means twilight, and I always thought of it as an evening word. But it can mean dawn as well. So was this photo, taken from Sharon and Andrew’s house, and home to us for a week, taken in the morning or the evening? What’s your guess?