I took this photo last week while walking with a friend in the woods in Normandy.
It was warm and sunny and so pleasant to be walking in the shade.
Have I ever told you that green is my favourite colour?
or should it be silly but fun?
Leo Reynolds found a new flickr group called Word Time, in which once a week, a new list of words comes out and you read them in front of your camera. The idea is to hear people throughout the world pronounce the same words with a different accent.
The words were: because, drawer, radiator, garage, aluminum, Subaru, New Zealand, herb, oregano, route.
One of my friends saw it and asked me what the point was.
Good question! There is no point really, I guess, but I think it’s fun!
So I did it, and before I knew it, it had been blogged at Flickr Blog.
Have to get ready for Week 2…
Catching up with the news at Living The Life in Saint-Aignan, I came across two new words. Two new words in a post aptly entitled More whinging and a comment!
It did look like whining, but I checked it out at the Free Online Dictionary, which gave
intr.v. whinged, whing·ing, whing·es Chiefly British
To complain or protest, especially in an annoying or persistent manner.
Now do you whinge, pronounced like hinge, or do you whinge like a wing? Had to go back to the Free Dictionary to get the answer and you whinge like a hinge!
As for grizzle, used in a comment by Chris, no satisfactory definition was found in the same dictionary so I googled it and came across acceptable definitions in Wordnet Search
# be in a huff; be silent or sullen
# whine: complain whiningly
# a grey wig
Obviously, the last definition is out!
Whinging or grizzling?
This week, I am off to Normandy for a couple of days and didn’t have much time to upload photos on to
flickr. So here is one of my older photos, which I took rue Royale., that goes from Madeleine to Concorde and which has some of Paris most expensive and fashionable shops. Like Lachaume, where you can buy very expensive flower arrangements, or Ladurée, famous for their macaroons.
I won’t give you Lachaume’s website as it just crashed my Firefox a couple of times.
To listen to this post in French, click below
Whenever I see a child on his/her dad’s shoulders, I remember the feelings of power and elation that I felt whenever my father carried me so. My father was quite tall for a man of his generation, and when I straddled his shoulders, I felt like the master of the universe!
This photo was taken when I was ten, well past the age of straddling anyone’s shoulders and although I don’t remember the details of the episode, let it suffice to say that the year following this photo, in 1955, my father suffered from a massive backache problem and was bedridden for months on end. He had a lumbar disc hernia which caused excruciating sciatic pain, and for months, they couldn’t decide whether he should undergo surgery or not.
So six years after I had been forced to lie in my parents’ bed for something that felt like ever, it was his turn. I remember this well, how my mother bought our first TV, a black and white set, of course. In those days, there were only a couple of hours of programmes every evening, and they showed the same ballet over and over, for TV sellers to be able to show their customers something, during the day.
My father couldn’t move at all, he was imprisoned in some sort of plaster corset and my mother had resumed her nursing duties. She was never feeling better that when she could look after one of us.
Blogging in Paris 