All Roads Lead To Home

It seems appropriate here to update my many fans with an itinerary of my recent travels.

I have decided to settle now for a while back in dear old Blighty, that beloved land of my forefathers. Regular readers will know that I refer to England, and I think I have already explained that its nickname of "Blighty" comes from a Hindi word, bilayati, meaning "foreign land." The name is occasionally used, in a jocular sense nowadays, by Brits to refer affectionately to their own country. It seems odd doesn't it, that they should use a word which means "foreign land", but that's only because most of them don't really know what it meant originally. Certainly to me, as I look across the rolling acres of the land in which generations of my fathers tilled the soil, I can never think of it as foreign, and sometimes, as I recall the "green and pleasant land" I have to wipe away a tear, wherever I happen to be, in the Brazilian rainforest, or the mighty steppes of central Asia, or the Australian bush, or the Sahara desert.

I left Normandy on a cold, wet, dreary day several weeks ago, and I shall probably never return there. The full story of the final farewell has yet to be told, but it WILL be told in the fulness of time. Of my travelling arrangements I say nothing. It will suffice to note only that I have been in Belarus, and found it delightful. After this, I then fulfilled a lifelong dream of visiting downtown Ulan Bator, which regular readers will know is the location of the World International Headquarters of the Ex-Philosopher Fan Club (EPFC). I was made very welcome there during my all too brief stay.

The intention is to provide, over the coming weeks, more detail about the many adventures enjoyed by your correspondent, but for today the foregoing will have to suffice, as I must dash, having an urgent appointment for which I am already late. Please feel free, if you do not want to miss the excitement of future posts on this blog, to use the RSS subscription feeds, they are very easy to operate.

Bye for now!

(Airplane image from http://www.dotolearn.com/) Sphere: Related Content

Your Own Micro-Climate

news, extreme weather, normandy interesting facts, hurricanes, micro-climate, climate, english channel, people, life
As some of you may already know, I have two homes, separated from each other by only about a hundred miles or so. That hundred miles contains within it a rather wide and stormy stretch of water though, in fact it's the English Channel, or La Manche, as the people on the other side call it. This water, scene of rather more than its fair share of historic events over the years, takes a bit of negotiating, but I'm glad to say I have landed safely on dry land. Ah! it's great to back in the dear old country again.

However, I have to say that the ancient land where my forefathers tilled the soil is looking a trifle bedraggled and soggy these days. Where can all this rain be coming from, I wonder? I know that British weather is something of a standing joke, but this is getting ridiculous now. Mind you, the French have not been entirely free of awful weather this year, and I gather that it is currently none too pleasant for our esteemed cousins across the Big Water, that marvellous people with whom us Brits share so harmoniously a common language.

I will not digress. My intention today was to write a serious piece. I hoped this would in some small measure counter-balance the slightly frivolous tone that seems to have lately crept into the confines of this blog, entirely against my wishes, I assure you. This serious piece anyway was to have its inauguration today, but looking out of the window at the weather, I thought I just couldn't hack it. I mean, it's pouring down out there and I would be wrestling with serious concepts? Nah, I don't think so.

So I decided instead to say a little word about the weather and leave it at that. Anyway from all accounts there has been some pretty severe weather around - storms in most parts of England, accompanied by floods; and there have been hurricanes and tornados in America, I hear. But I'm glad to say that the place where I am staying is one example of those places that are rarely enough to be found on Earth - a micro-climate. Whatever is happening everywhere else, the weather in this town is always a milder version of it. Don't ask me why it is, perhaps it is the particular configuration of landscape features, or a powerful spell cast hundreds of years ago, but the chances of extreme weather in this town are about the same as for winning the lottery jackpot three weeks running. I'm serious.

I'm not saying we don't have some weather, of course we do, but it is never as bad here as it is elsewhere, even only ten miles away. Furthermore, when it rains the water drains away very quickly because the hills are composed of chalk. What's that you say? No I'm not going to tell you where it is. We have quite enough new people moving in as it is. I'm sorry but you'll just have to find your own micro-climate.

Do you live in a micro-climate? Or know someone else who does? Why not tell us all about it, in the comments section below. Sphere: Related Content

Change All Around I See

Those readers who have been here before will probably have noticed the change of name for the title of this blog. This is no way intended to cause confusion, to reduce the search engine visibility of this blog, or anything of that technical nature. The purpose, if that is the word I want, is merely to change for the sake of change and also to enrich the reading experience of my visitors. As you know, the That Reminds Me World Official Fan Club, now with 29 members, working out of its headquarters office in downtown Ulan Bator, has, under the terms of its Charter, to approve by a straight majority vote any and all such changes. I am happy to announce that approval was granted by a unanimous decision taken at 01:16 GMT today.

Due to a technicality in the Club Constitution, the Fan Club was under obligation to dissolve itself and reform again under the new name Ex-Philosopher Fan Club (EPFC) and I am pleased to announce that this was achieved during class break, which took place at 10:30 local time.

Meanwhile here in Normandy, there was uproar when it was discovered that my neighbour's pet budgerigar, Claude, was missing. This has apparently never happened before since Claude is generally the most home-loving of birds. While my neighbour was out combing the streets and alleys of old Rouen for his errant feathered friend, I was given the somewhat irksome task of calming his girlfriend. She is a formidable woman, who entered into the tragic spirit of the occasion with a gusto of the intensity that can only be achieved by a Frenchwoman. I decided it would be safest to keep my own counsel in the matter.

My neighbour's girlfriend and I have indeed hardly been on speaking terms for the past six months. This is how it happened. The budgerigar had somehow, I don't know how, learnt some very choice English swear words, which it delighted in bringing forth at the most inopportune moments, such as when there was company. Since I am the only Englishman who comes into regular proximity with the animal, the finger of suspicion naturally pointed at me for teaching them to him. It was useless to protest that it was more likely the fault of the television, where every other word begins with F these days. My neighbour's girlfriend was most vehement and voluble in her denunciations of your correspondent, so I told her frankly that I did not care for her attitude and tone.

The matter was left there, but since then there has been some tension in our dealings. For example, there was the incident with the onions, which I consider to be trivial and petty beyond description. But we pass over that.

Anyway, in the manner of a true English gentleman (which I should say that I am most certainly not a gentleman) I attempted to console the poor woman in her hour of distress and tribulation. All's well that ends well though, as some time later my neighbour, smiling broadly, reappeared with the prodigal parrot. He had been discovered perched on the topmost pinnacle of the local pub, whence he had been retrieved with some minor assistance from the Fire Brigade. Sphere: Related Content