Today’s Much Love Monday is brought to you with the heady sounds of late Eighties hair metal… Tigertailz to be specific.
Nothing like a little love bomb to put a bit of pink fizz into your Monday. I was torn between this and Noise Level Critical but this is the one that reminds me most of being seventeen or eighteen or so. Funnily, a French advert for Head and Shoulders for men came on before the video, involving a man looking at all the beauty accoutrements on the shelf in the bathroom, shaking his head, sweeping them all off the shelf and replacing it with a bottle of Head and Shoulders. I guarantee you Tigertailz would not have balked at the opportunity to dive into their girlfriends’ make up bags and stick on a bit of lippy or paint their nails.
I’m not sure how it kind of went from Kiss and make-up that was theatrical, to Tigertailz and make-up, hair and clothes that were straight out of a stripper’s boudoir, but there you go. Lines get pushed back… what was amusing becomes the norm and suddenly you find yourself with a room-full of men with more hairspray on than you. I think you could blame Hanoi Rocks for setting the trend and the New York Dolls for giving them the idea.
I half thought about putting on a face full of TT inspired make-up this morning for a bit of a laugh, but then realised it would just slide off my face.
Here, we are suffering from a heatwave – la canicule – and daily temperatures of mid thirties. It is a little tiring, to say the least. I’d forgotten how hot it gets. Especially since just over two weeks ago, we had daily temperatures of 19° and I needed long johns under my summer dresses to keep me from getting too chilly… Still you get to a point where you are waiting for the heat to break and it certainly doesn’t seem to be doing at any time in the near future. Midnight last night and I was too hot to sleep.
Luckily, I have access to a pool and I am having a bit of an almost-staycation at Madame V’s. 9 dogs, 4 cats, 2 parrots and 2 children and it seems to be running okay. There are three puppies here that Mme. V is fostering – some kind of lab cross perhaps – as well as Heston and his brother Charlton. Maddie informed me they are now 18 in human years as she had been looking at a chart in the vet’s. Madame V’s springer, Dillon, is back to his Hugh Hefner ways and has spent most of his weekend trying to get to my American spaniel Tilly. Even if you are 86 in dog years, a cute blonde will put a bounce in your step.
It has even been too hot to sit outside much, though Mme V has a pool. How can it be too hot to go in a pool?! It was definitely this hot last year mid-August, since it was a friend’s 40th and we sat in her basement instead of her beautifully tided garden. And when I did my deliveries last July, we had 37° too. It seems like my grass has very quickly become parched and dry.
See… sixteen days of sunshine and I can’t find any love for it. It’s true what they say: variety is the spice of life. I think I would say Much Love for the early mornings when the heat is not quite so ferocious.
Much Love, of course, to my little helpx army. One left on Saturday having tied all my vines in perfectly and got through a lot of the weeds in my kale and onion patch. Another arrives tomorrow to my little slice of crazy paradise. I have massive love for workaway and helpx and the likes: there’s no way I could have managed it all this year. Each time you can put a little money aside and get a project done, get a new bed laid or start painting something that was bare or ancient and dirty before. It’s nice too to be able to take people to different parts of the region and show them off a bit. It makes me fall in love with France all over again.
One of my friends from back home arrived yesterday having come on his motorbike down from Abbéville, where he’d spent the night. He is already in love with France, though his first comment was “where is everybody?”
It’s true. France often seems very empty. Especially on a Sunday. People keep their shutters shut to keep the heat out and you can drive through most villages without seeing a single soul. He’d stopped to ask for directions when he got here and as soon as he started speaking, the man said, “Oh you want the English lady’s house.” and sent him right here. Just goes to show… you might think the villages are empty and private, but everybody knows you anyway.
I realised yesterday that there is another English house in my village. Well, I’d realised it a while ago when I bonjoured someone as I cycled past and they responded with a heartily English “bonjewer”, but then I hadn’t seen them for a while. I don’t know if there’s is a holiday home. It doesn’t look like a holiday home – it looks like a massive old maison that needs a lot of work and looks to me like a full-time job. Hopefully, they aren’t trying to renovate it in 4 holiday weeks a year, especially in this heat. Of course, it could be a typical French house and look practically derelict from the outside and then be filled with antiques and overstuffed Chesterfields inside. Who knows?
Anyway, enjoy your Monday… hopefully you have a little respite from the heat!