Update: dry your tears Pierrot

Thanks for your emails and comments. It looks like British Airways has come to the rescue and we will indeed make it over to the ditch to London. Direct from Toulouse to boot :) Strikers thwarted!

Did you notice the blue background behind Pierrot and Columbine? It's a medium sized door I'm working on. Stormy blue. Sort of fits this summer strike theme…

And here are some paper shells I've been making as my calligraphy dries. 

I'm imagining them as a wafty mobile floating in the summer breeze 

as it passes through my studio.

Don't forget to drop by The Altered Page to check out Seth's Style File.

I'm featured in there today along with some other fabulously interesting artists.

Have a great Sunday. 

I'm off to the airport :)

Mon ami Pierrot being Utterly British: Keeping a stiff upper lip!

If you have been paying attention my dearest Possums, or dropped by recently, you would be aware that I had planned to write a post this weekend. Yesterday in fact (one day late is better than one month as is my wont of late, n'est-ce pas? ;)

It was going to be upbeat. Racy. Dare I say witty even. First of all I was going to give you the secret recipe for the lime putty (ever had a witty lime putty recipe thrown at you?).

Unfortunately, the photos I took for the post have ALL disappeared, and are currently being held hostage by my computer. I know they are in there, because I can see the thumbnails… But each time I try to retreive one in full, there is a big blank space where the photo should be. "Ha!" said I. "Hah!" again. "This is but a minor setback; a childish game of hide and seek." So I gave my Mac that 'we are not amused' look I usually reserve for my messmonsters at crucial moments, took 3 deep breaths and raced up to the next door neighbour's to wench Libellule off the poney she should have put to sleep long before it got dark. That was at 10pm.

And THAT was when the bombshell dropped… You see, tomorrow, while Seth posts his Style File in which I am a rather chuffed participant this week, I was meant to be taking Chickpea to a long awaited horse-riding camp in England. We were to get up at the proverbial sparrow's and fly from Toulouse to London via Paris. Lunch in London then we would part ways - moi back home to Toulouse via Paris, and chickpea on to the riding centre with her very best friend whom she's not seen for a year. All thanks to Beaker's accumulated air miles with Air France.

Ever had a little message on your phone: "Flight Cancelled?" Sigh. Tears. Exasperation. Powerlessness. Anger and Frustration Dammit!!!!! It's summer… and strike time again. Eh OUI mes amis, Air France, French rail and French ferries - they make a sport of it every holiday season.

It only seems like yesterday that I raced over to Avignon (a mere 4 ½ hours away) to pick up my darling friend Kim who, wide eyed an innocent, had never until then even imagined the dark and dastardly alter ego lurking behind France's exquisite Ladurée macarons… You can read about that adventure here.  Ah BUGGER! London's just that little bit further than Avignon…

So what do I do? Drown my sorrows in champagne like Pierrot? Jump head first into the champagne bucket like Colombine? How fortunate that I keep a champagne bucket handy in my studio for special moments… and those of excruciating self-pity.

  Oh it's alright. I'll get over it. And Beaker has valiantly forged off in the direction of the airport as I type away to you and rant like a madwoman while slowly downing a pot of liquid caramel au sel de Guérande that friends just brought me back from Brittany. Maybe next time I should ask them to bring back two on their next holidays so I can keep it next to the champagne bucket for … occasions such as these ;-)

I hear a car… Quick! Beaker's back - ALREADY??Hide the empty caramel pot!!!

Stay tuned!

Will Ange fly her beloved Chickpea to London, whipping in for a Ladurée stop en route?

Will Chickpea be devastated, 

forced to spend a week riding in the French countryside?

(Mmm, there could be worse options out there for a young rider. Let's downplay the self pity bit afterall)

Are any of you free in London tomorrow in case I only make it half way 

and they cancel my flight back to Toulouse????

Answers on Monday!

Crossing fingers AND toes!! ;-)

Ange

PS. Pierrot et Colombine, are weary of my company. 'The champagne bucket is always empty,' they say, and they thirst for adventure. Colombine is aghast that I still haven't mastered the art of haute couture and longs for beautiful gowns of brocade and lace, in accordance with her French heritage. Accordingly, we came to a common understanding that they should both go into my Etsy shop which will be reopening this week. I would be much obliged if one of you could give them a good home in the fine manner they were previously accustomed to. 

Something thrilling every day...

"YOu're going skiing?" you say. 

"Up to the French Southern Alpes in a tiny village called Allos?
My my, that sounds WONDERFUL!"

And of course it will be fabuleux to catch up with my sweet messmonsters and watch them whizzing past me as I feebly cry out, 'Wait for Mummy! Don't go so fast! DON'T BREAK A LEG!'

... IF, I ever actually arrive!

You see, there are nation-wide petrol strikes happening in France. Now don't you worry there possums. I'm well used to it by now. In any given year there are at least 4 or 5 country-crippling transport strikes that take the French population and any one else vagabonding through the French countryside hostage. However, other than a lot of indignant hot air blowing and general grumbling at the inconvenience, plus a bit of finger wagging to emphasise the exasperation level, your average Frenchie would never forgo their constitutional right to strike - even if that means watching struggling small businesses go under while big multi nationals and or public sector companies complain about poor pay and health benefits etc, ad infinitum. Yes - Strikes are almost a national sport in France, bringing out the same fervour and animosity in the population that other countries save for Rugby matches and your average Olympic games events.

A good transport transport-halting strike happens (nearly always at holiday time, most often Christmas) at least once every year, when it will get the most media attention and of course, have the greatest effect by leaving families stranded in other countries or cities. Of course, this can have the secretly coveted side effect of providing extra days off work but leaves hotels perplexed as to how to cope with emergency double bookings, and hand waving, irate non-French speaking tourists like 'Strines,' Kiwis and ...Markins!!

 I believe some strike attempts were thwarted this year as snow and ice stopped nationwide, indeed international travel before resident strikers even had a chance to whip out and polish last year's slogans... This has obviously left them strike-deprived and I'm most surprised they aren't off on worker's compo because of it!! But ... as it turns out, conveniently in time for me to pop off skiing, they're back in force with a vengeance!

So, as you read this I will be somewhere in the middle of a 5h + adventure, amusing myself immensely with the petrol gauge on my trusty little car. But you all knew I LOVED adventure, didn't you!! This time, fate may throw me together with some other lovely people on the side of the road somewhere; or if I'm luckier, in the comfort of a petrol-depleted gas station. People who, like me, will not be able to fill their car up and move along to their desired destination. I meet people under the strangest circumstances so I am most curious to see how this is going to turn out. An adventure it will be none the less !! I know I will make it to Aix en Provence on the car's current level but after that ...Where? Mind you, there are worse places to be stuck in than Aix! Maybe I could hitch from there to Jeanne's deluxe Provence spa and health retreat!!

Of course there are many thrilling things to do in France other than wagering bets on how far your car can get on a tank full of petrol. The above image offers yet another example!
 Now get your specs out possums, or click on the image to make it bigger because one vintage American magazine has seriously confirmed my theory that something even more thrilling than wearing a haute couture Chanel gown into Ladurée happens in France Every. Single. Day. Strikes notwithstanding! Of course, I do not imagine that chiming out '11pm' at the top of the Eiffel Tower every evening would be quite as thrilling after a month or so (you know, a job's a job after a while ;-) as driving into the sunset with a clear destination in mind but never in fact knowing where you may end up... or who with... But that depends entirely on what constitutes your 'thrill' criteria then doesn't it?

I'll let you know my personal verdict on that when I get back ... if I ever get back!

So just in case ... I mean, you never know... I had better tell you about THIS!

For ephemera lovers and artists everywhere ... LaWendula at her blog Woven Letters hosts a wonderful theme-based paper swap every month in which I have taken part twice. This month I was lucky enough to be paired up with Jennifer Black a very talented mixed media artist from Texas who creates the most amusing and delightful cards from her original artworks. Amongst the HUGE envelope of 'stuff' that she sent me - the above pieces were just three of the pages she had added. There are other ones that just cracked me up just as much that, if I ever make it back to Toulouse, I promise to share with you.

Now, thanks to Jennifer, I know that wherever I am between Toulouse and Allos I will never really be alone. We will all be together.  Listening in awe to that lovely little man thrillingly chiming out 11pm for the whole world to hear from the top of the glittering Eiffel Tower...

Why, I may even chance upon some Markins!!