We are (hopefully) moving house and I am in the midst of the mother of all clear outs: endless sorting, chucking, donating, selling, giving away and recycling in an attempt to reduce our belongings by 40%. It is what keeps me awake at night and […]
Tag: java bere
On the first weekend of February we drove to Jura, a department on the border just before Switzerland. We stayed in an old house owned by Vincent’s family during ‘La Percee du Vin Jaune’ (Opening of the Yellow Wine; a festival celebrating the famous yellow wine of the region). The festival was an eye opener as I had never seen so many intoxicated French people in one day. Intoxicated French people wearing silly hats, having sing offs and peeing in people’s gardens. It was rather like a suburban, quaint Glastonbury, with Wine snobs and grinning Japanese tourists.
So, when not tasting the sweet, sherry like Vin de Paille, syrupy Vin Jaune or endless glasses of Vincent’s red Beaujolais in front of the stove, I was having a forbidden romance with the house. I was bewildered and seduced by the silhouettes against the windows, terrified by the dark room at the top where the pile of wood was kept and frankly obsessed with the torn, patterned wallpaper in every room.
Amongst my favourite moments of the days were: Jon making a cork person with a chef hat and a champagne wire chair, watching Whitney‘s silhouette against the bedroom window as she applied her powder on Saturday morning, Vincent‘s screwdriver and hook method instead of a cork screw, eating quite a lot of cheese and falling asleep beneath layers of blankets, next to the stove.
~9 years ago I spent a week in the Scottish Isle of Jura where George Orwell wrote ‘1984’. My boyfriend at the time had grown up there, amongst 100 inhabitants. His father was a gardener on one of the estates on the island and his mother enjoyed arguing with the shopkeeper about how many eggs she was allowed to buy. I did not meet a single person on the island who was able to focus on anything other than my shoes. But that, I suppose, is another story…~
Friday is cocktail and pizza night chez Domaine Carret! Whitney Marie and I started early with some mulled wine in the snow. It may not be Christmas any more, but since the snow has fallen, warm cocktails are the most tempting option. Mulled wine is […]
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There are various things that make this such an incredible film, such as Peggy Lee‘s song, the complex and refreshingly central female characters in a Country and Western film, the fact that Francois Truffaut declared it one of his favourite films… I could go on. […]
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
Yesterday morning as we were eating breakfast Jon said: “How about later, when we’ve finished the chores, we move the sofa out of the way and…” Here is where my mind jumped forward at the speed of a hungry hyena and I blurted out: “We […]
C’est fini! ‘The Biscuit Tin’ has been filmed. I got to say ‘It’s a wrap’ in the appropriate context for once in my life.
The final scenes involved lyig in bed, eating poached eggs and looking a bit miserable. None of these at once, but all equally fun.
As we sit down to start another draft edit, we’ve been talking about how much the piece of work has changed. It started with a poem that I wrote a couple of years ago; a tiny piece of writing that has inspired something far more eloquent than anything I could have ever created on my own. Jon’s composition (his words: “got a bit pissed and hit some zither things” do not do it justice) has transformed the piece. I feel like ranting on about it, but I won’t. It needs to be seen.
Cheers to our final day of shooting. It’s been exhilerating, tedious and confusing at times yet sharply important. Off to have a bit of a cry.