On the lash: UKLash Eyelash Serum - a six and nine month update

My by now rather battered tube and box!

Back in July I wrote a "before" and "after" post about my results with UKlash Eyelash Serum, one of the many brands of such products on the market in this ever growing sector about which I was completely ignorant till I started dabbling in it myself at the beginning of May. Here's a reminder of my stubby apologies at the outset:

May 1st, 2022

The last photograph in that post dates from July 3rd, and shows some definite growth, which did surprise me, I'll be honest, as my default assumption tends to be that all beauty product claims are either hyped up or downright false.

July 3rd, 2022

The second photo above was taken about 91/2 weeks in - there is nothing otherwise significant about that precise interval, I hasten to add ;). I carried on using the product regularly till mid-October, and there is still a bit left in the tube, but my trapped nerves kicked in then and lengthening my lashes was the last thing on my mind.

Now I said in July that I wouldn't come back and revisit this topic at the twelve week mark, as I didn't expect anything more to happen, plus I didn't want to scare the horses unduly by posting too many photos of my bizarrely-shaped selfie-snapped phizog. But I decided to do an update after all, as the serum did in fact keep on working...!

So here I am, without make up still, last October - please excuse the very unflattering angle, which makes my nose look like a laboratory flask crossed with Concorde. The difference since July is subtle, but I do think the lashes have grown a bit more:

October 14th, 2022

And here are a couple of shots of me around that time, but with a light application of mascara:

October 7th, 2022

I am at least looking straight ahead in the next one, rather than sporting the demented "Look up!" expression not usually found beyond the optician's chair. I still look a little "scary stary", mind. And veering towards silvery badger in the fringe department, though that is being sorted next week.

October 10th, 2022

So where am I now? I learnt from the comments on my earlier post that the serum merely interrupts the natural shedding cycle, so that the lashes continue to grow. I haven't applied it more than half a dozen times since October due to my neck issue, when you are meant to use it daily to maintain the length or coax the lashes to become even longer. Frankly, by October they were at the height of what I'd call an acceptable length, and starting to grow out in strange directions and develop bent tips like mosquito legs with a kink in them. It was also very easy to create ridiculous doll-like looks with even one "normal" coat of mascara, so even if I hadn't fallen ill, I would doubtless have laid off the serum to stop this relentless sprouting in its tracks. Also, I could almost hear my eyelashes rustling when I blnked, which was a little disconcerting. I'd say my lashes are now back to where they were in early June, say, so really nothing remarkable, but not quite the little stumps of yore.

21st January, 2023

So would I recommend this product?

Absolutely, if longer lashes are a particular quest of yours. To be fair, I do think that even when mine were at their most stunted, they came up remarkably long thanks to the telescopic miracle worker that is modern mascara. But if you don't want to wear make up every day - and I rarely do now - having naturally longer lashes does give you more confidence to go out without shopkeepers asking if you can see properly out of those tiny eyes.

Perfumes in purdah: Les Néréides Impérial Opoponax (the sequel), Prada Candy, and Guerlain Shalimar Millésime Tonka

Sniffing Truffle's head

I'm back! A belated Happy New Year to everyone.

Nearly two months to the day since my last post - possibly the longest hiatus in the 13 year history of Bonkers about Perfume (or one of them) - and I am now attempting to type a full draft in the normal way for the first time, and see how that feels. The conservative approach I was recommended to take by the osteopath of cancelling all social plans and leading such a quiet life that it could qualify as a "retreat" appears to have paid off, and I am much better now. I have at last re-mastered the arts of driving, housework, shopping, knitting, and pretty much every other manoeuvre in everyday life except manhandling the loft ladder and opening tins. I wouldn't want to drive many miles yet, or knit a whole scarf in a day, but I am well up to dipping my toe back into these abandoned activities.

Yes, "retreat" is a good word...or "purdah" might be another to describe this strange time I have spent away from society. I hasten to add that I mean "purdah" in the generic sense of "seclusion", and not the practice in certain Muslim and Hindu societies of screening women from men or strangers, especially by means of a curtain, in case I lay myself open to charges of cultural appropriation. That said, I did acquire a front door curtain in December.

Les Néréides Impérial Opoponax (the sequel)

Notes: citrus notes, opoponax, benzoin, vanilla, amber, sandalwood

In my last post I mentioned how much I had enjoyed wearing Les Néréides Opoponax most days until my decant ran out. I would like to give Rachael Potts (whose decant it was), a shout out for kindly donating the rest of her bottle when the Royal Mail stirred into life in the New Year. The bottle is called "Impérial Opoponax", while I referred to this scent as plain "Opoponax" in the previous post. I have since learnt that the name was simplified over time, and Rachael's bottle has the original one on it. I am glad I didn't erroneously strip the perfume of its lofty rank - that would be like referring to the Duke of Sussex as Harry Windsor, though it is tempting.

Prada Candy

Notes: musk, benzoin, caramel (I daresay there are more than these!)

When I first found myself without Impérial Opoponax - and notwithstanding the fact that I have some 60 bottles to my name and countless other decants and samples - I felt bereft, and as though I didn't know what to wear now(!), for I was really craving something in that purring vanillic vein. Then at the end of November I spied a bottle of Prada Candy in a discount chemist in town - 30ml for £34.99. Ever since its launch, and despite loving the scent with its cosseting toffee haze, I had not felt I could justify the cost of a 50ml bottle, and had never come across the smaller format, never mind at the magic price of (more or less) £1 for 1ml, which used to be the norm back in the day, even for niche scents.

Despite this great deal, I continued to wrestle with my conscience and fought the urge to buy it, for based on current stock levels I will never need to acquire any more perfume in my life again. Though I realise that it depends very much on what you mean by "need". Plus I was in pain and deserved a treat. So I decided to let the decision be made by Victoria of Boisdejasmin, whose taste in fragrance has proved down the years to be spookily congruent with my own. I said to myself that if she had awarded Prada Candy four stars in her review (I didn't doubt that there would be one) I would take that as a sign that I should proceed with my purchase. And of course she had, haha...;)

Oh,and look what Colbourne, a reviewer on Basenotes, had to say about the opoponax note  - he mentions "toffee", which is of course in Candy. And props to him too for giving "effulgent" a rare outing in any context: 

"an exudate from the Commiphora eyrthraea tree, this resin has sensuous warmth, a sweetness of toffee contrasted with bitter, leafy herbal undertones, powdery, efflulgent, yet rich, mythic."

Guerlain Shalimar Millésime Tonka

Notes: bergamot, almond, rum, iris, jasmine, rose, tonka bean, vanilla and opopanine.

I am very out of touch with perfume releases - never more so than in recent months - yet my purdah was penetrated by news of this new Shalimar release from sources both sides of the pond, and as a born again lover of Shalimar in most of its incarnations, I immediately dropped £9 on a tiny sample from Etsy. I should point out that I was feeling a bit delicate on the day I tested it, but while the notes sounded promising, and as though Millésime Tonka might serve as yet another comfort scent in this reclusive period, the reality on my skin was a disappointment and triggered an instant headache. The composition was hijacked by an off-kilter accord I can best describe as furry lighter fuel. A bit like my experience with Tauer's Lonestar Memories, which also has jasmine, tonka bean and myrrh, but is way more fizzy. 

I think a retrial is definitely in order, so here goes...

Okay, no headache and no unpleasant notes, but Millésime Tonka is darker and murkier than the original, and a little more bitter.almondy maybe? I think it is probably absolutely fine though, like a "Shalimar Noir" if there was such a thing, and it may only be a question of time. I will wear and enjoy this sample and get my money's worth. For nine quid for 1ml is a bit steep to shell out even on a prize lemming. I think feeling as I did when I first tried it, frankly any perfume might have triggered the headache, and this version is rather rich to be fair.

And now see what another Basenotes reviewer, Shahbaz_2009, says of Impérial Opoponax, comparing it to Shalimar!

"Upon spraying we are hit with the familiar bergamot-lemon-cream opening,which is very sweet and almost reminiscent of Vintage Shalimar and Oscar"

Eyeballing the notes, there appears to be an opopanax-esque component. I have been unable to google the word to clarify the point, however, as my search keeps defaulting to "dopamine".

So it is clear that while ill I was drawn to fragrances with quite a lot of compositional crossover without realising it...vanilla-forward, toffee-ish purrfumes, we could perhaps call them.

Source: Fragrantica

In closing, I would like to thank all my friends and neighbours (not that they are likely to be reading this) for acting as a spare pair of arms in so many useful ways over the past few months - it was a huge help. And Truffle, for sitting on me so comprehensively in what seemed at least like an empathic way. I am sorry to report that her head that I am sniffing in the photo smelt unmistakably of wee - clearly not her own as that would entail a feat of gymnastics beyond the capability of even her athletic frame.

Lastly it occurred to me that I must be feeling better to embrace the right royal faff of adding accents to two of the three perfumes featured, especially the Impérial Opoponax, which has three on its own!

Bonkers' neck is on the line, and the importance of keeping your chin up

Source: pinterest.fr

This post was brought to you very, very slowly by voice recognition and mostly lefthanded editing...

I have been gone awhile. I should be in France this week and instead I am grounded for the foreseeable future.

For my blogging hiatus has nothing to do with a lack of mojo or being adrift in the creative doldrums - a mental state that afflicts bloggers or writers of any kind indeed from time to time - it is rather as a result of a physical problem, namely trapped nerves in my neck which have caused me pain ranging from moderate to just shy of agony for the last five weeks. An MRI scan has revealed a condition called "disc osteophyte complex" involving foraminal narrowing, foramina being little bony tunnels through which the nerves pass. Osteophytes are bony spurs that grow on the edges of vertebrae encroaching on the discs in between and causing compression. They also sprout inside these little tunnels and obstruct the path like a thorny thicket, creating a sort of obstacle course, if you will, for the nerves to bludgeon their way through. 

In all the pictures I have found on the Internet - using only my left hand, you understand, which is the one that is not compromised - osteophytes are depicted as little frilly scalloped edges not unlike coral, and they are always red. This is perhaps to denote inflammation which is what causes them to form in the first place; somewhat counterintuitively you could say, because by growing new bone they are simply making traffic conditions more difficult. The word "traffic" is rather apt in fact, for the biggest nerve involved is called the Supra Scapular Highway. It travels down from the neck and sweeps through the shoulder blade to the top of the shoulder, before running down the arm to the hand. At least I think it does - I daren't research too thoroughly in Google in case I come across any graphic images. In a bid to come to terms with my situation I even gave a couple of the nerves names: Norbert for the big autoroute one (after the French haulage company of that name - Norbert Dentressangle), and Nick for the one below it, because it keeps getting "nicked" as it struggles through the bony forest.

To be fair I can't say it has helped me be reconciled to the cancelling of everything I had planned between now and Christmas as part of my sentence of "complete rest", but it was worth a go. ;)

That said, as a person living on their own it is nigh on impossible to have complete rest or nothing will get done. I have given up driving and have a number of friends kindly shopping for me, but there are still little tasks around the house that I cannot ask people to pop in to do every five minutes. So I am conscious that I may still be harming my nerves a little here and there on a daily basis. I did ask a friend to grind me a week's worth of pepper and salt - which you could say is a first world problem, hehe - but the ability to grind meant a lot to me. I have yet to second anyone into shelling pistachios, but may crack on that one too. My brief attempt at liquidizer goblet-wrangling ended in a lot of pain, so there are no more smoothies in my future for the moment - or pasta, which involves manhandling large saucepans. Or panhandling, even.

There is quite a large aspect of psychological readjustment to be done with an illness like this, including the redefining of one's sense of self: for me this was very tied up in house projects both here and in France, and with my Airbnb hosting, which I've had to put on pause, and also with the band and gigs, the next wave of which is coming up shortly - tantalisingly close geographically in the case of next weekend - but still too far. If anyone else fancies going do let me know!  I have had to let everything go - including the aforementioned trip to France this week - and must try to see this period of near total inactivity as "short term pain for long term gain". For if you stay active at the same level with an injury of any kind you can wind up with chronic complications down the line. The necessity for surgery can also not be excluded. And there is no way I would like to be stuck with this amount of pain on an ongoing basis. The entire upper right quadrant of my body hurts, involving two basic styles of pain: a sort of lumbar puncture feeling crossed with a malevolently twisting apple corer in my neck, supplemented by a common or garden hot burning sensation everywhere else. 

Source: bonati.com

The osteopath who is treating me described this as a one-time window of opportunity to heal naturally. You could liken it perhaps to what the police call the "Golden Hours" ie the 48-hour period following a child's disappearance beyond which timeframe the chances rise dramatically that the child will turn up dead if it does at all. I don't wish to apply the analogy too slavishly because this is not a life-threatening condition, but for the sake of good order my friend who is a funeral celebrant urged me most vociferously not to die, because she has an unusually heavy workload at the moment.

Then even if the problem goes away by and by - as I am very much hoping it will - through the usual conservative measures of ice / heat / rest / medication / avoiding too much stimulation of the Central Nervous System aka "excessive firing of excitatory neurotransmitters" by any means whatsoever, including nice activities like a catch up with friends, there is always the chance that I could trigger a similar episode in the future because the cramped conditions in my foramina remain...

Now there are a few not wholly negative things about my situation: I can watch "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here" without it even being a guilty pleasure; I may be unable to write my usual 70 plus Christmas cards because I have lost the grip in my right hand for the moment, and thirdly... there was a third one, but my medication-induced brain fog has intervened.

A word on Truffle in all of this: she has been very supportive, for due to my intolerance of various types of medication I had been put on I had several periods of a sick headache lasting up to four days, and behaved out of character, spending most of my time in bed drifting in and out of a light and unrestful sleep. The cat would regularly come and squat on my windpipe and look at me solicitously, rubbing her cheek against mine and occasionally licking it. At other times I am sure I caught an expression of alarm on her face as though she was starting to doubt the long-term viability of her customary food source.

Strangely, you might think, I have worn perfume over this past month...almost exclusively one which Rachael Potts gave to me - Opoponax by Les Nereides. I find its vanillic, resinous drydown very comforting, and am a huge lover of myrrh as you know. I will have drained it soon and must go in search of something else in my collection with the same qualities.

Head: Orange peels, Bergamot.

Heart: Jasmine from Grasse, Hawthorn, Sandalwood.

Base: Myrrh, Bourbon Vanilla, Benjoin, Amber.

I had better wrap up here because I am straying into doing tiny bits of editing with my right hand too, and every tap with the finger is an added strain on Norbert and Nick. But I would like to say in closing that I really appreciate the support of family and friends, both moral and practical eg giving me lifts to medical appointments, doing shopping as I say, or things that are more necessary than you might imagine like testing the fire alarms regularly, so they don't start their piteous bleeping routine in the night because the battery is on the blink, which I would be unable to make stop. I could probably wield the testing pole in my good hand but I'm not supposed to look up as much as would be required - which brings me neatly back to the bit in the title about the correct positioning of one's chin. There's up, and then there's too up.

Please don't feel any need to comment because I can't type replies easily. There is no voice recognition on my laptop and the facility is pretty sketchy at the best of times. Here is one of its more amusing manglings and there are myriad examples every day. 

"Hope the rest of your week is Morecambe that should be karma that should be more calm."

PS It was my 13th blog anniversary at the end of October, but the date was rather overtaken by events.

PPS I will be back!

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Bonkers got (partially) cancelled! And uncancelled again, but not without collateral hiccups

Source: Wikimedia Commons (GXXF)

I thought I should write a line or two to explain why a post from 2011 briefly appeared just now as my most recent post - that's for any readers quick enough off the mark to spot it. I have now figured out how to publish to a past date, and the errant piece is back where it belongs in the archives.

How the sorry saga came about is as follows...I woke up this morning to a slew of seven emails from Blogger, each containing a link to a different blog post that they had "unpublished", as it violated their content policy on the grounds of being spam. Ironically, two of these notifications landed in my own spam folder, the very offence of which I had been accused. 

I am glad Blogger pointed out which category of violation my posts fell under, as I would have struggled to work that out for myself: most of them seemed wildly inappropriate, such as "violence and gore", "unauthorised images of minors", "harassment, bullying and threats", and "non-consensual explicit imagery". Having thoroughly examined the wording of the spam clause, and looked for similarities amongst the seven posts, I concluded that it was the pr*ze dr*ws that Blogger took exception to, which it must have construed as "mass solicitation". Given how few readers enter such things on Bonkers, the term "mass" does seem a little overegged, but anyway...

Do not spam. This may include unwanted promotional or commercial content, unwanted content that is created by an automated program, unwanted repetitive content, nonsensical content or anything that appears to be a mass solicitation.

G*veaw*ys are of course - or were - a time-honoured tradition in perfume circles, and I can think of other blogs who host them with much greater regularity than me; it tended to be a once-a-year thing as a rule, to commemorate my blog anniversary (another one of which is looming!) or when reaching a milestone in terms of numbers of posts. But clearly Blogger has taken agin them, so there was nothing for it but to edit all the posts in question and submit them for review. To their credit, the people involved in assessing my changes were very prompt about it, and all the posts were approved and re-posted within an hour or so.

Most of them kept their original dates, except one with a review of a Puredistance 1 from 2011, which somehow managed to publish itself today. Now fixed, as I say.

Thinking about it, I am surprised I haven't been fingered for "nonsensical content", which is arguably not exactly my house style, but Lord knows I have written a lot of whimsical and silly copy down the years. ;)

Now what this all means is that the posts have been changed, but the comments below remain, including references to the various pr*ze dr*ws to which there is no longer any reference in the post itself. I could have deleted all of them, but would then have lost the other remarks people made, which would have been sad. (Especially as I lost a bunch of genuine comments recently when I reacted too hastily to a spam attack by a third party.) There were 44 comments in all on the Puredistance post I mentioned, which is from the days when I used to have a lot more reader interaction. I may go back in later and add a note at the end of each post, explaining what has happened and why there is now "nonsensical content" in the comments(!). And I should also delete the companion posts from the following week announcing the results of the g*veaw*ys, only one of which has been picked up by the bots - and strangely not the post in which the dr*w was originally mentioned.

All of these examples of mass solicitation are very historic though, so I don't really see what the point is of amending them so long after the event. It is not as through anyone could respond all these years later, as the entry deadlines are well and truly past. I am reminded of the current fashion for removing all traces of historical misdemeanours more widely, for example by toppling statues of controversial figures from centuries ago. But that is a whole other discussion I don't wish to get into here. I will just carry on with my blog housekeeping, complying with any further requests by Blogger to remove more posts that contravene the guidelines. With the Online Safety Bill in the offing, who knows what offences I may yet unwittingly commit?

And I would be interested to know if there are any other bloggers out there to whom something similar has happened, though I sense most people on the perfume scene use Wordpress these days, where the content rules may be more forgiving.

BNNIB (Brand New Not in Box): Sarah Jessica Parker less Lovely than expected

Another bitesize post - a blogging amuse-gueule if you will - about an unusual discount item spotted in a branch of B & M (formerly B & M Bargains) in Stafford the other day. I popped back this afternoon to take a better photo and can confirm that this item, reduced from £18.99 to £12.60, is - perhaps not surprisingly - still for sale. Reduced in price, and sadly also radically reduced in terms of its missing centrepiece of a full bottle of Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely.

I always used to say that Lovely is one of the early celebrity scents that punched above its price tag. Well, that is even more the case now that this Lovely-shaped hole is valued at a mere £6.39. For 100ml! The rollerball is 10ml and the body lotion 200ml, and I cannot see how such a modest price reduction is justified...For on a purely pro rata basis the rollerball would therefore be worth 64p(!), and the body lotion just under a whopping £11.96, which is 87% more than the perfume that isn't there. That's never right.

The maths gets even more off kilter when you compare this set to one costing £9.99 and containing 3 x 10ml rollerballs: one of Lovely plus two of its flankers (Born Lovely and Sheer Lovely); it is also on sale in B & M, with all three perfumes still present and correct in the box. Each 10ml costs £3.33, much more than a tenth of the £6.39 the absent 100ml bottle is supposedly worth. And I know that smaller quantities cost proportionately more per ml, but still...even if the rollerball in the discounted gift set were worth twice 64p, the difference versus the trio set is quite stark.

There are the makings of an absorbing algebra problem here, I sense! 3 x a = £9.99, while a + c = £12.50. (where b = bottle = £6.39 = missing.) If we now decide that a = £3.33 in both sets, that leaves a value for the lotion of £9.27, but there is still no escaping from the lowball price of £6.39 for b! If anyone would like to take the full price of £18.99 and reallocate fair values to all three items that should be in there, be my guest. ;) 

And you do have to admire the sheer effrontery of the person who removed the bottle from its box. The perfume was presumably pilfered, for I cannot imagine the store allowing a customer to buy the bottle on its own, the way they usually condone my purchases of lone bottles of mineral water from a previously broached polythene multipack.

For anyone who manages to find a complete set, this is certainly a bargain..."a steal", I could almost say. 

Speaking of which, we can at least take comfort in the fact that the thief will smell lovely...;)

Shooting the messenger: a palate-cleansing post on an Hermès product format fail

Source: eBay

I am interrupting my series of travel posts about the recent French trip because a) something came up in the perfume sphere that I would like to air without delay, and b) I figured people might like a break anyway from the travelogue style of writing, even though the final part will feature perfume in a small way (if and) when I do eventually get to it.

What sparked the present post was this email I received from my old English teacher, Sheila:

"I’ve completely run out of perfume and have no idea what to buy. You once kindly gave me some little phials, amongst which was one for Hermès which I still love - I have a tiny, tiny amount left. It's a long time ago (before 2013), but can you remember what it was? It just says Hermès on the side with no further clue. I’ve been googling and think it may be Un Jardin sur le Nil, as that is quite old and has woody notes like this one. I love cedar, sandalwood, leather and vetiver, but not strong floral notes."

I immediately snapped into sleuthing mode, and replied:

"If the vial is a spray one, that narrows the field to its mainstream line, of which Un Jardin sur le Nil was part, while the more expensive scents in their Hermessence range come in long thin glass tubes with stoppers."

And back came the answer:

"The Hermès vial is in glass with stopper: I knew it had the whiff of expense about it!"

My mind immediately went to Vetiver Tonka, and on checking back to my "Perfume Protegé" post from 2014 I was able to confirm that this was indeed a scent she loved.

The next step was to give Hermès in London a ring on my friend's behalf and see if they sold samples. It had taken Sheila some nine years to drain one of those little glass tubes, so she clearly didn't need a 100ml or 200ml bottle at anything up to £300(!), which seem to be the only sizes they do nowadays. I explored the travel size option - 15ml would have been an ideal compromise - but was told I would have to buy four of them in a travel set costing around £136. I lamented this narrow-minded marketing approach, and made it quite plain that I would look elsewhere.

Within five minutes, eBay came up trumps, as I found a seller with several of the 15ml travel sprays of Vetiver Tonka, complete with tweedy bag (see photo) - and Sheila is now restocked with her favourite Hermès, no thanks to the brand itself...

NB I nearly didn't bother to add their accent, so exercised was I by their intransigent attitude, but relented in the end to avoid confusion with a certain delivery company.

Harriet Worth goes to France: a thematic round up of (less stressful!) incidents and oddities - Part 1

Hemming staking out my house

I have decided to adopt a thematic rather than a strictly chronological approach to the rest of my account of the French trip. The first two action-packed days certainly lent themselves to a linear account, but for this post (and a further one my material will run to!) I shall pick out the notable motifs of the holiday (I use the term "holiday" very loosely). 

The cat with five names

Regular readers may remember my post from last August, featuring a new furry friend (at the end), an orange and white cat I named Hemming because of his strong look - he had something of the Viking about him. Back then, I understood that he had a home, but spent as little time there as possible due to the presence of dogs and/or children with which he didn't get on. A year on and Hemming is definitely living rough and on his wits - he looks more unkempt and his behaviour is pushier than before, when he was already what I can best describe as "aggressively affectionate". I mentioned in my last post how he sprayed on my sofa the one and only time I let him inside my house, another sign that he has become a bit feral.

"Service, please!"

The person staying at my friend L's house down the street had been feeding Hemming (whom he called Leo) outside, so on his departure shortly after I arrived I took the baton in this neighbourly feeding relay. Hemming would appear at my door miaowing piteously, before trotting ahead of me down the street to the windowsill where he knew his food bowl was kept. When I went home, I handed over the remaining dry food to the new owners of the house next door to me, who had already had "representations" from the cat, which they called Chirac. They told me that yet another family calls him Marmalade. I don't think Hemming - real name unknown - minds what he is called, just as long as there is at least one house in the street at all times that is "active" and staffed.

Failing to be in and be counted

There is always a lot of junk mail in my letter box at the house every time I go, typically of the local newspaper and shopping flyer variety. But on this trip there were several communications waiting for me - of increasing urgency - to do with a village census. It had taken place over a four week period back in January / February, a time of year when most residents would likely be around, but not second home owners. The next day I popped to the town hall to apologise in person for my non-compliance with the census summons, which had been compulsory. They told me not to worry, and pointed out that - this being August - I had well and truly missed it. "What a shame" I piped up brightly, "as I like filling in forms". Later I decided to take a look at the questions, the most interesting of which concerned the bathroom arrangements of my house. The options were:

"Neither bath tub, nor shower"

"Bath tub or shower in a room not specifically reserved for washing"

"Bathroom (with bath tub or shower)"

Now I have been known to liken my very basic and rustic house to a "living folk museum", but it does at least have a dedicated (if rudimentary) bathroom with a shower. I would be intrigued to learn what proportion of the census participants were in the first category, having a "lick and a promise" kind of wash in the sink?

Getting trapped by more gates

After my scary adventure in the "zone restreinte" in Dieppe, I could hardly believe that during my stay I would manage to get trapped in by gates on two further occasions: once after visiting a bus depot to check their lost property stash for my missing beret (from last November, so I wasn't very hopeful), and once after visiting an old people's home. I had hoped to speak to the manager, whose grandmother was the last person to live year-round in my house in the early 70s, as opposed to using it just as a holiday home. In the first instance I drove through the open gate into the car park of the bus depot only to have it shut (and lock) behind me again. "No problem", I thought, "I will ask the staff to open it as I leave". Which I did, only they couldn't remember the code for that day, and spent a good few minutes trying various combinations of numbers it might have been. After many fruitless attempts, one man asked cheerily: "Would you like a leg up?" (known as a "short ladder" in French). It looked a fair old drop the other side, so I said I would be happy to wait till they figured out the code, which thankfully they did in the end. 

Looking back, the visit to the old people's home could have escalated into a more worrying scenario than merely being unable to find a way out. I should really have rung to say I was coming. As it was, I opened a side gate into the drive of the residential home - which also required a code, helpfully taped beside the lock, with an injunction not to tell anyone and to request a (presumably different) exit code after my visit. I went through the gate, and it too clanged shut and locked behind me. "No problem", I thought, "I will ask the staff for the other code as I leave." Once inside the home, with the reception area dark and unmanned, I realised that the staff may have been thin on the ground - it was a Sunday, after all. I tried the courtesy phone, but nobody answered. There was nothing for it but to wander through the communal areas of the building, looking for personnel. I passed several residents in wheelchairs, watching television with the volume turned up loud, but saw no one even vaguely in charge. It then occurred to me that even if I did meet someone, I had walked so far into the building by now that they might take me for an intruder and I might actually get into trouble. The incident in Dieppe had clearly scarred me, and I had sudden visions of nearly being arrested again. So I suddenly changed tack and decided to beat a hasty retreat, forgetting for a moment that I had failed to obtain the all-important exit code. I legged it back to the perimeter fence, but this time tried another side gate further round, and to my great relief and surprise it was unlocked, and I made my escape. I would love to talk to the relative of the former owner - who may herself have lived there as a child - but I will be sure to do so by arrangement next time.

Obstructing an exhibition with knitting

For some time now I had been aware that my village had its version of a "Knit and Natter" club based at the library, but on this trip I finally made it to a session, taking a prototype cotton flannel with me, along with my Belgian neighbour C, who was also curious to check out the group. Apart from us there were four other participants: three French and one Dutch. Of the French knitters, one was an eleven year old boy, who had come with his grandmother. Fair play to him for not thinking it a cissy pursuit, and having the patience to sit with a bunch of grown ups for two hours without appearing remotely restless. Amusingly, his grandmother turned out to have been born in the house where the other French lady lived. Wheels within wheels...

Anyway, we quickly bonded, as knitters do, over questions such as: "How old were you when you started?", "What was the first thing you made?", and "How big is your stash?", and I also learnt the French for an easy project you can watch TV to, known in English as "mindless knitting", and in French as "zéro cerveau" ("zero brain", which sadly lacks the rhyme of the original). The lady who lived in the other lady's house mentioned that she dares to knit fingerless gloves during Zoom meetings at work, her hands carefully positioned out of sight of the webcam. These would be very much an example of a "zéro cerveau" project, which she dubbed "meeting mittens".

The obstructing bit alluded to above came about because we were sitting in a circle in the middle of an exhibition on the history of roofing and roof tiles in the area. Several visitors came in during the afternoon and valiantly tried to squeeze behind our chairs to read the display boards. It only took a few of us to obscure several hundred years' worth of this ancient craft on our side of the room, but happily nobody complained.

NB Perfume will be back in Part 2, in a cameo role at least, after which "normal" posts will resume...

The final send off