After spending six months back in the UK, I’ve finally come back to France. To Normandy to look after a farm. How long I’m not quite sure. Maybe enough time to finish a novel?
Yesterday was hot. Very hot, so I spent it in the small lake we have here. More a large pond. Later I made a short film accompanied by music someone recorded in a street in Nantes. Where I am is about 300 kilometres from Nantes so there’s very little connection. Except that it’s in France.
For those of you who’ve never read this blog, it started out in Lyon in 2011. Then it was called BLOGLEY and was about living in Lyon. Since then it’s become a general platform for stories, travel articles, short films, audio pieces, and general pieces about nothing in particular.
So if you have a few minutes of your life to waste you might want to browse some posts. Or you could even buy the book: A Man in France by clicking on the photo of bottles of wine and cans of beer opposite —->
If not, this 60 second film with music from Nantes pretty much sums it all up.
It was cold, wet and windy with only the occasional ray of sunshine to keep me company. Not a great day for standing around with a hard bristle brush scrubbing wooden decking.
Tedious backbreaking work: the handle of the brush was too short and I’m slightly too tall if that makes sense. Working half bent, half upright for the whole day. Reminding me of the kitchen in Exeter where I once worked in which all the work surfaces were a foot and a half too low. Walking back home doubled up after my 15 hour shift chopping veg aided by a walking frame and half a bottle of vodka to make the pain in my lower back go somewhere else.
Yesterday after three hours of scrubbing, I was bored stiff. Literally. It had started raining again and I was ready to jack it in. Never mind the huile de coude (elbow grease) I had promised my boss, I wanted a cold beer. Kick back. Read my book. Live a bit!
Then I had an idea.
Why not film it? Film my work? Could it work? Could it be entertainment?
Difficult and certainly a challenge. And if nothing else, it might inject a bit of purpose into the next three hours.
So I went inside. Cut a lens sized hole in an old plastic biscuit box, put my camera in it, put the lid on, checked it was watertight, and went to work.
Three hours later, I had two hours of film which I edited down to two minutes five.
So what do you think? Entertainment? Rubbish? Or just a boring job that no amount of jazzing up with film cameras will ever make interesting?
(Music: Mr and Mrs Smith – Dark Country Road. Used under CC licence)
Yesterday wasn’t a particularly good day weather wise – cold, windy, rainy. When the sun finally came out, I spent it larking around with my video camera that used to belong to my great friend Stan.
My plan was to film something of interest. Something mind blowing. ‘Who knows what lies on this part of the coast?’ I thought.
I found nothing. Winter in a bland seaside town in Western France. I may as well have been fishing for oysters on the moon.
I decided to look harder. ‘There must be something!’ I thought. ‘A bright red stuffed toy that’s been left by a distraught child after being told by the parents that Water World isn’t open in February. Nothing is open. Nothing!’
As I said in a post a few weeks ago. ‘Incredible what you can see when you want to.’ (Blogley 204.)
So by the end of my quiet and occasionally wet saunter up the coast, I had something to make my short film with.
(Music: Fog Lake – Little Black Balloon)