I have been living in France for more years than I would like to admit, and I have often wondered why. Obviously there was something that I had to learn, because the purpose of Life, so I am told, is to improve myself or to be “improved”. This week I have understood one of the lessons that I am supposed to have learned during my sojourn here.
I have been living in France for more years than I would like to admit, and I have often wondered why.
Obviously there was something that I had to learn, because the purpose of Life, so I am told, is to improve myself or to be “improved”.
This week I have understood one of the lessons that I am supposed to have learned during my sojourn here.
I am supposed to have learned how to trim a hedge!
You see, I suffer from that malady common to English Speaking People, in that I believe that Nature is beautiful when left alone and allowed to recreate itself, with freedom of expression.
I like my garden to have “wild” areas where birds can nest and red squirrels can scamper, or hedgehogs can lurk. But now I realise that I have been wrong for years.
The purpose of my life should have been to have a straighter, neater, more exactly cut hedge.
I am surprised that I have been allowed to live in this community for so long, without having a Mayoral Decree delivered, or at least a mumbled “word of advice” given, regarding my property perimeters.
And as for walls!
Here I am seriously at fault.
I had to repair a section of wall which was destroyed by raiders when they stole some heavy equipment from the Old Forge when the property was abandoned, before I bought it. As the old red bricks were lying everywhere in abundance I thought it would be fitting to build the wall in a slightly haphazard fashion, in keeping with the wild variety in the shapes and sizes of the bricks.
And, even worse, to build a flower bed along the top of the wall so that trailing plants could hang down and waft in the breeze.
Who ever heard of such a thing?
All walls must be dead straight and level on top, and must have roof tiles all correctly sloped like military bayonets at an Army Parade.
No… Now that I have realised my shortcomings I will be at pains to rectify this deplorable attitude that I have, and learn to trim my hedges with a theodolite, prune my roses with a power cutter and lop branches off my trees with a chainsaw.
I have to learn about this historical fascination for guillotining heads off things to create a new social order. I have to learn that destruction is beautiful. I must get used to straight carrots and geometrically perfect beans.
Yes, I know at last why I am here.
But perhaps… Perhaps…. I will wait until they make a wine bottle in the shape of a cube… then I will know that the curve is gone forever!
Oh dear… they have… Wine is now available in a cardboard box!
I wonder if the French Lady’s bra will suffer the same regimented fate and be made to look like the rear light of a Renault.
I do hope not.