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One of the most popular articles on my blog is A Normand Hole which I wrote following a weekend of excessive eating in Normandy. Since I am back in Provence I have, however, taken a keen interest in another kind of holes, namely potholes, also known as...
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On 8 December 2013 I climbed the stairs to Notre Dame de la Garde to participate in the opening ceremony for the celebrations of the construction of a small chapel on the site where La Bonne Mère, as the church is known locally, is now situated. After...
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To the Mayor of Marseille Dear Mr Gaudin, I allow myself to address this message to you in English, though I doubt that you will understand it, but at least my friends around the world will be able to read what I have to say to you. I have read in the...
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Today a doctor had given me an informal appointment in his consultancy in the Hôpital Européen not far from work. I was a bit puzzled as I had never heard about this hospital though I have lived in Marseille for more than 10 years. In a town where swimming...
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When Nancy Huston walked on to the scene at the Archives Régionales the other night, she looked like the young girl whose diary she was going to read to us. With her long hair and fringe and her slim body she looked anything but 60 (but apparently she...
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On Sunday mornings in my childhood we would have a boiled egg with a slice of rye bread, and my dad would have a tiny bottle of Jägermeister. My dad was a hunter, and when I was born, he had a hunting dog called "Plet" (Spot in English). I recall his...
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In Denmark we have no rivers. We have one word to describe the natural watercourses found in Denmark ("å"), and I suppose that the word "stream" would be the best translation. We do have a word to describe a river ("flod"), however, we do not have any...
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Lately I keep running into Pompon. Considering that he died in 1933 and was then forgotten for many years, it is actually rather surprising. François Pompon was born in Saulieu in 1855, he became an apprentice stone mason in Dijon at the age of 15 and...
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There are places that noone even in their wildest dreams would ever imagine existed. Places that you only read about in books like the Platform 9 3/4 from where the train for Hogwarts departs at King's Cross. Or secret houses where people attend parties...
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When you have visited a Provençal market, you will undoubtedly have noticed the colourful textiles used for tea towels and table cloths. They have lots of printed details and are in green or red or blue or yellow. I must admit that I never liked these...
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