Lately I have neglected the blog in favour of doing some gardening. Now, my garden is an atom of a thing as it is truly pocket-handkerchief size, so it’s hard, in retrospect, to credit that doing very little to such a tiny space took up a vast amount of time. Admittedly a lot of that was thinking time: pondering what plants to buy, wondering were in the tiny space to put them, and trying to figure out by reading plant information labels at garden centres which were the best buys in terms of colour and longest flowering times.
I am not fanatical about my diet but in the main I try to eat in a healthy fashion so I aim to fill my shopping basket mostly with wholesome foods. There are certain items that I buy on repeat but I am willing to experiment.
Sometimes the shifting sands of language usage leave me at a semantic standstill as does the bewildering array, and seemingly constant stream, of newly minted words, slang terms, and acronyms. However, I know I would have sunk deeper into the quagmire of ignorance, on both these subjects, if I hadn’t started to blog.
I would not be unduly surprised, if I discovered, on some future trip to Paris, that the legendary Café de Flore had been frozen in aspic, to preserve it for eternity, and declared a national monument by the French government. It is after all one of the grandes dames of Parisian cafés which opened its doors to the coffee imbibing public way back in 1887. And, of course, it’s a place where the rooms echo with the ghostly voices of some of the literary and philosophical greats (including Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Ernest Hemingway …) who ate, drank, and wrote there in earlier epochs.
There are very, very few photographs on JAA that I didn’t take myself, however the image above of Brigid the Sheep reading a copy of the charmingly illustrated children’s book ‘This is Ireland’ by Miroslav Sasek is from Makers & Brothers (I have written about them here and here). I ‘borrowed’ the image, and I hope the brothers don’t mind, because I was totally smitten by it: heaven alone knows what that says about my inner psyche.
Towards the end of February I went on a short trip to Paris. A very short trip. Just, in fact, for the day. It’s perfectly doable from Dublin as the flight time is just over one hour thirty; plus there is an early flight which leaves Dublin at around seven am and one that takes off from Charles De Gaulle airport after nine pm, so even taking into account the loss of an hour, this allows for a goodly amount of time in Paris without it costing an unruly amount of cash (ie: the cost of an overnight stay).
I am often amazed at the bits of semi-useless information that lodge fast in my mind. For example, I came across frühjahrsmüdigkeit at a set of French classes I attend donkeys’ years ago, now in all honesty I didn’t actually remember the word, as I had to google it, but I did remember, quite well, the concept behind the word. If only the rules governing the use of the subjunctive in French were similarly super glued into my long-term memory!
Note: apologies for the quality of the images – a smudge on my camera’s lens have left them blurry.
Light years ago, well light years in blogging terms, but in reality only last July (still a longish time) I wrote a post on good value eating out in Dublin in which I said that said post was the first in an occasional series but as it’s only now that I am writing a second post it’s obviously going to be a very intermittent series.