As Helen so rightly pointed out the carnival has indeed come to town and our little oasis of calm (although admittedly a teeming hubbub, some say metropolis compared to other people’s hameaus) undergoes it’s annual transformation into a 1950s fun fair. This is all well and good if you have a hankering for kebabs and raw frites but I don’t - I was going to take a picture fo the nearest kebab man’s elephant foot of processed meaty goodness but his expression said no.

Living in the town does however give you insight into how the rides are assembled and the traditional french method of supporting multi tonned objects on breeze blocks and bits of wood. I shall be eschewing most of the rides.

A busy week this week doing stuff for the mighty DrawBox (’the world’s finest visualisation software’ - Visualisation Software Weekly) I have to go to London for a few days in a couple of weeks to meet with ‘an unnamed furniture company’ and convince them that we can fully comprehend their design aesthetic, whatsoever that means.

I have also been moving what I thought was a five foot pile of earth at the end of the garden, which actually turned out to be a a five foot pile of large rocks dusted with a light coating of soil - look out for fascinating pictures of stones next week.

As my Cecil B de Mille efforts were harnagued earlier in the week I shall post them today - on the correct day. I know it’s rubbish….but what do you expect….really (nb the royalty cheque has already been posted to Jack Black)

Apologies to Kevin for publishing this on Saturday which is his day - especially after moaning about him putting the dog video on the other day, but I’ve just realised - on scanning the website (in the hope of a comment - which has only happened once!) that I’d saved it but forgotten to publish, so….
The homeward flight of my mum and grandad yesterday seems to have brought with it a change in the weather and today it’s raining for the first time in about 2 weeks, which is good for the garden I suppose - not that I’m any Pippa Greenwood and given the choice would rather it didn’t.
Not so great for the fair which starts in Oradour sur Vayres tonight and goes on for the weekend – culminating in the most fantastic firework display often designed by some award winning pyrotechnical whiz. We’ve never actually been to it as the normally quiet village plays host to literally thousands of people during this time and is horrifically packed but prefer to stand on a hill miles away when we can be bothered – which was once – about 15 years ago.

The foire coming to town and the attendant gypsy presence has also meant that all of Eurl Dig-It’s goods and shackles have had to be moved from their rather prominent resting place outside Sue Poole’s house by the church square -not that they would necessarily be stolen but I don’t think the gendarmes would have much sympathy if anything was.
One of Alfie’s best friends is from a local gypsy family. They have been to school together since they were about three and shared the same room at lycee. Having always been treated as their ‘cousin’ he has spent loads of time at their house and has learnt many things over the years – how to cook a hedgehog, make a catapult out of an old inner tube and a stick of ash, ride bareback, catch fresh water prawns with your hands etc etc. He was also taught some gypsy argot when he was about 6yrs old and proudly told us about it when he came home.
‘Oh that’s nice’, said Matt what does it mean?
‘Hide the bag’ was the reply.
I rest my case your honour.
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