I watched a really interesting documentary this week highlighting the problems being faced by ‘Virunga’, a National Park in the African democratic republic of Congo. I would recommend watching it (available on Netflix) so I won’t go in to detail, but watching the difficult scenes of an emergency evacuation of the local people made me consider the importance of our material possessions. Women were hurrying along with a child tied to both their front and back, and with a small basket of possessions on their heads; men ran towards the trucks clutching a lone suitcase which held all their worldy goods; and a child carried a small box containing a beloved chicken. If you had to drop everything right now and run out the door, possibly never to return, what would you grab?
For me the answer would be: my photo albums, my external hard drive and my cat! Everything else is replaceable and what really matters are the things and memories that mean something to you and are completely irreplaceable. With these 3 things I could rebuild a life without having lost anything important. Sometimes it’s worth thinking about what really matters…
I’ve always loved cooking and am perfectly at home pottering around my kitchen, surrounded by ingredients, trying out a new cookie recipe whilst simultaneously making a lasagne and a loaf of bread!
Having more free time on my hands recently I’ve been thoroughly enjoying spending more time cooking and baking, and especially experimenting more with new recipes. I have rediscovered some of those cookery books which have been gathering dust on my shelves for the past few years, geekily bookmarking recipes I like the look of and writing comments under ones I’ve tried. I find so much pleasure in taking the time to cook something delicious and feeling proud of the result, rather than grabbing something from the freezer and throwing it in the oven because you have no time. Now I am aware that many people either don’t have the time to do this or sadly have no interest, so I count myself lucky that I not only currently have the time but also the inclination to get stuck in to some experimental baking!
I’m not sure what inspired me of late, but this week I had a sudden urge to attempt to decorate cakes. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to properly decorate a cake before, and wisely so I imagine! But I decided to set my sights low and begin easy with some simple cupcakes. I can see why so many parents choose decorating cakes as an activity to do with their children, it’s so much fun! Especially when you let loose with the piping bag! Here is the evidence of my first attempt, banana cupcakes with chocolate frosting. Although they may not look quite shop-bought, they’re super tasty and I think not a terrible start! I definitely plan to continue with my newly found cake decorating enthusiasm, although it might have to be planned around visiting friends or dinner parties as there’s a definite limit to how many cupcakes a person should eat!
Before the frosting fun began…The finished product!Trying to be arty!Having fun with the piping bag!
October has provided us with some amazing weather here recently, and one day last week it was a perfect day for a trail run in the mountains. The run ended up at the mid-station lift of the Aiguille de Midi cable car, the highest one in Europe and whilst this is a beautiful spot on its own, I had a free afternoon so decided I might as well head on up the lift to the very top, always breathtaking and worth a visit no matter how many times you’re been up there. Being almost 3000 metres higher than the town, I was pretty cold in my running kit! But I took my time wandering around the various viewing platforms taking photos and generally admiring Mont Blanc and its stunning neighbours! Looking up I was thrilled to learn that I had timed my visit well as teetering on the edge of one of the highest points I spotted a tiny figure in white wearing the distinctive outfit of a wingsuiter. He was geared up and ready to jump, from a height of 3842 metres.
I quickly flicked my camera on to burst mode and managed to capture the whole jump. After stitching the photos together I am pretty happy with the following astonishing sequence as he descended. You can see near the bottom that he’s just starting to move out away from the rock face, he then plateaued and I watched him fly across the valley at the most incredible speed until he became so small that he dropped out of sight.
As a sport this seems to be becoming more and more popular and I have absolutely no idea why! The thought of jumping in to nothing, a total void, especially that close to a rock face, chills me to my very bones. It’s something I can confidently say that I’ll never ever do, but I can understand that to the adrenaline junkies out there it’s as close to flying like a bird mankind will ever get.
I wrote a few weeks ago heralding the coming of Winter, the colder days, the darkness creeping in earlier and earlier, the imminent arrival of the snow… But I feel the need now to perhaps delay that slightly and cling on to the beautiful, and highly underrated, season that is Autumn. I find myself thinking the same thing every year and once again reminding myself that Autumn is one of the most stunning times of the year. In the Alps it is all about winter and summer, the periods bridging the gaps are simply referred to as ‘Interseason’ and I believe are totally forgotten and glossed over.
I feel so strongly that we must embrace these ‘in between’ periods and not just see them as time to kill before the ‘proper’ seasons arrive. There is so much to do in the mountains right now, with the added benefit of it not being too hot, so you can often actually do far more than in the sumer. There is also no-one around. Summer peak season is so overrun with holiday-makers, yet no-one seems to come in the Autumn. It’s like a secret, our own personal paradise, deserted and beautiful. On a walk last week I found myself becoming quite the nature lover and flora photographer! Everywhere I looked I saw stunning colours in the trees, the leaves and the heather. I’ll include some of my amateur snaps, no photoshop, no colour enhancement, just the pure beauty of nature at its best.
The latest choice for the Chamonix Book Club is one I’m very excited about. ‘And the Mountains Echoed’ by Khaled Hosseini is a book that has been on my ‘to read’ list for some time, as I would safely put ‘The Kite Runner’ and ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ in amongst my favourite books of all time. I think Khaled Hosseini is a wonderful writer, whose previous novels have been both heart wrenching and beautiful.
I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of my copy and can’t wait to get started!
I know this is going to sound dreadfully old lady-like and I imagine that I am very much in the minority on this one, but at what point did the world become obsessed beyond recognition with the Internet and mobile phones? The rise of technology is without doubt enormously impressive and those of yesteryear would simply stare open-mouthed at what we are able to do today with regards to communication, but what really bothers me is that mobile phones are no longer just a convenient gadget, they have become a status symbol and an genuine obsession. People simply cannot live without their phones. Look around you on any train, bus, in any waiting room, or simply walking along the street, and all you see is people on their phones. It makes me genuinely wonder what people did with their hands and their brains before phones, as any spare moment seems to be spent checking for texts, checking emails, or simply scrolling through photos. Did people used to just put their hands in their pockets and look at their surroundings? Maybe do some sudoku puzzles, read a newspaper, or even a book?? Hard to imagine now.
I will hold my hands up and happily admit that I love the internet and I love my computer. I think emails are a wonderful way of contacting people and have certainly made the World a much more accessible place. But what I thoroughly enjoy is coming home in the evening and checking my emails, like excitedly waiting for the postman in days gone by. I really don’t see the need for everyone to be reachable via the internet 24 hours a day. I feel lucky to come from a generation who grew up with no internet and no phones and who have now witnessed the phenomenal technological changes of the last 20 years. However I feel genuinely saddened that we are most certainly the last ones. Children nowadays will never know a world where you can’t just google something on a car journey, or check your Facebook messages during Geography lessons.
Most people today could not possibly imagine life without their phone, it is within easy reach at any point of the day; either in their pocket, in their bag or on the table in front of them, just in case that all important text or email comes through. Would it be the end of the world if you didn’t see that message for another 2 hours? Before the Millennium there was no mobile access to the Internet, yet somehow everyone still seemed to manage. Now people can’t even sit through dinner without their phone taking pride of place at the table, obnoxiously beeping every few minutes and with their owner rudely and unsociably interrupting the conversation to check messages and update everyone on the latest Facebook post. Social etiquette has taken on a whole new set of rules, many of which horrify me yet which seem to have been totally accepted by everyone else. Since when is it ok to take your phone out and flick through emails and messages whilst someone is talking to you? Not so long ago it wasn’t acceptable to put your elbows on the table during dinner…
I really do think that it is ruining the way people interact with the World around them, and I worry for future generations who are headed for a life where their main social activities revolve around a smartphone and where having 500+ ‘friends’ is both normal and accepted. Maybe I’m too desperately clinging to the past and need to simply suck it up, buy myself a smartphone and roll with the times, but I can’t see it. I’ll always prefer to talk to someone in person rather than on the phone and will continue to look forward to checking my messages upon returning home. New gadgets are fine, and I’m all for moving forward with technology, but I worry that we are moving so quickly that we are losing sight of what’s important and necessary and forgetting that life before this obsession to be in constant contact wasn’t so bad after all, and in my opinion much calmer, less frantic and a lot less stressful…
Are smartphones turning us in to a generation of rude, obsessive recluses?
Whether you are an avid or a reluctant reader, everyone has a favourite author and a favourite book, whether it be a childhood memory or a novel read as an adult. Asking to choose your favourite book of all time is a dreadfully difficult question, and one which I feel I may do a blog post on in the not too distant future…! But I certainly have my favourites, and a precious few hold that special place on the bookshelf and have been returned to more than once! I have spent a lot of time recently reading and researching different books and something that has really struck a chord in me is the books and authors which stand the test of time. Being a primary teacher I feel I am fairly up-to-date with the books children choose and the authors they come back to time and time again and I am endlessly fascinated by what is popular and in fashion. Of course there are many many new, modern authors that are becoming hugely popular with children of all ages, but I can’t help but notice that the Enid Blytons and Roald Dahls of the World will never fade. Children and adults worldwide are still enraptured by the Twits, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and The BFG, not to mention the Famous Five and Malory Towers. In fact in just a mere few months I am taking my class to see a stage production of George’s Marvellous Medicine! Some of these stories were written for children over 60 years ago (Enid Blyton was born in 1897!) yet are still as popular today as ever, so what is it that makes an author or a story last for decades, despite the revolutionary changes the World has seen in the interim?
The reason I’m writing this is because of a particular favourite author of mine, and it’s not even fictional writing! The man in question is James Herriott, he of the All Creatures Great and Small fame, Yorkshire’s most famous veterinary surgeon. These books, charting the trials and tribulations of a vet in rural Yorkshire in the 1930s, were dramatised on the BBC during my childhood in the 1990s and have stayed with me ever since. They were the reason I wanted to be a vet (as I’m sure most children did at some point in their lives!) and the subject matter of many a wonderful family holiday in the Yorkshire Dales. I have recently re-read a lot of his books as well as listening to them on audiobook, and they have lost absolutely none of their sparkle. In fact I would even go so far as to say that I now love them even more than I did as a child. Their pure simplicity and wonderful, idyllic description of life as a country vet just makes me wish that life was still like that. I think that Yorkshire in the 30s is how life should be and I want to thank James Herriot for keeping my feet on the ground by reminding me of a simpler time, one that continues to make me smile. I will forever have my copies of ‘It Shouldn’t Happen to a Vet’ and ‘Vets might Fly’, along with my all time favourite childhood book, ‘James Herriot’s dog stories’, and I will most certainly be passing them along to my children.
Long live the authors who manage to stand the test of time.
It still has the magic for me…Ah, what wonderful stories!
No matter how many years you spend living abroad, whether it’s simply just over the border or a 24 hour plane ride away, we all miss certain things about the place where we grew up, aside from the obvious family and friends. Of course you get used to where you live, the ways of life, the local customs and foods, and learn to really enjoy things you had perhaps never experienced before.
Spending so many years in France, some of these things for me have been delicious tartiflette, an abundance of local mountain cheeses, fresh baguettes, wonderful bakeries and a rare rump steak to name but a few! Before coming to France I’m not sure I’d ever eaten a steak before, and the thought of eating meat that looked a little pink would have horrified me, but now I’ll literally close my eyes to savour every bite of that bloody steak that’s almost still mooing!
You would think after spending your entire twenties away from the country you grew up in, you would just become accustomed to what’s available where you live and slowly forget what you used to do. But for me this has never been the case. Maybe it’s a British thing, but despite actively choosing not to live there, we Brits seem to cling on to all things British with a fierce patriotism, excitedly cramming suitcases and cars full of things we can ‘only buy over there’!
I don’t think it’s a case of the UK having ‘better stuff’ than France, I think it is simply that you never lose your roots. I know the high street shops of Britain like the back of my hand, whatever I need I know where to go to get it. It’s simply easier to wait until you next visit England to buy yourself some new jeans or a pair of winter boots, because rather than spending hours trawling a bunch of shops you’re not familiar with, you could have what you want in 10 minutes from your local childhood high street because you grew up with it and you know it.
I have the wonderful luxury of living somewhere I love, yet being only a short plane ride away from where I grew up so in just a few hours I can be across 2 borders and safely landed in the UK. I frequently take advantage of this wonderfully convenient service and I spent last weekend catching up with some fabulous university friends. Now during a fleeting visit across the water it would be frankly wasteful to not cram a few British treats in to my hand luggage whilst there, which I duly did, and which got me thinking about the strange things I miss from my homeland.
This time the lucky items that made it back were: crumpets, Dairy Milk caramel, Double Decker chocolate bars, multipacks of fudge bars, a block of cheddar cheese and the Saturday Times newspaper. On a journey which allows for more luggage space the following items will also regularly be found: Marmite, British bacon, digestive biscuits and the essential jars of peanut butter.
Ever since childhood I’ve always been a huge fan of peanut butter (something which the french sadly just don’t seem interested in…) Why I miss the other random assortment is anyone’s guess, although the fact that you simply can’t buy most of these things over here surely must play a part…! As they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder! One thing’s for sure, if I ever move further away I’m going to have to send a mighty big container on ahead of me, and it’ll be filled with peanut butter!
It’s a sentence most people dread. September in England signalled the end of summer and back to school which inevitably brought with it short, dark days characterised by cold and rain. September meant Winter was coming which generally led to negative grumbling and griping about the weather and how hard done by everyone was! Winter and positivity were two words not often associated with each other! I think it’s safe to say that England doesn’t really get much of a seasonal weather pattern, it can get slightly warmer in the summer and marginally colder in the winter, but in general the weather pretty much stays the same, so although I was aware of ‘seasons’, I’d never really experienced them.
You grow up dreading winter and desperately waiting for summer, so how I ended up living in a mighty cold ski resort and itching for winter is anybody’s guess! Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the summer, especially in the Alps. It’s by far the most convenient season and I am genuinely sad that it’s pretty much over for this year, but the wonderful thing about living in the mountains is that you get four distinct seasons and you know exactly when it changes. This year the summer here has been pretty dismal, as I believe it has been across most of Europe, but almost as a special treat to make up for it, September has been absolutely glorious. Up until last week the sun has been shining and it has been genuinely warm; shorts and flip-flops weather still. We’ve been climbing, hiking, running and even swimming in the lakes, not what you’d expect from an often ‘dreary’ month. But this week we have clearly felt it ‘turn’. It has suddenly gotten very cold in the mornings and evenings, the trees are all turning fiery red and golden and the darkness is rolling in earlier and earlier. It’s such a snap change, Summer becomes Autumn almost overnight, not Winter, Autumn.
This is why I love it here so much. Everyone enjoys the summer but as soon as it cools down and the trees start to change, the thoughts inevitably turn to winter and the chat turns to skis, lift passes and winter plans. But before all that excitement begins we get a grace period where we get to ease out of summer mode, eek out the sunshine as much as possible, but gradually start to get our warm clothes down from the loft and think about when the snow will come.
In the vein of enjoying every last drop of that sunshine, last week I went for a wonderful long run along the Chamonix valley, starting and finishing at 2 different points which resulted in a reasonably long wait for a bus at the other end. Again sitting and waiting for a bus is a prospect that conjures up images of miserable commuters huddled under a rainy bus stop. It’s a strange place to count your blessings, but I couldn’t help but smile as I sat on a bench in the sunshine facing a spectacular mountain range bisected by a stunning glacier, and to top it off, the trees in the foreground were at that perfect autumnal point where they can’t quite decide whether they want to be red or green.
It’s the little things that make the difference… I love autumn!
Sharon Wray Writing 