Nice in Nice

I'm not sure how appropriate it is to name a blog post after a Stranglers single celebrating their drugs bust in the South of France, but it's a pun you just have to use!

Anyway, we're back after a week in Nice. A couple of rainy days meant that the trip was surprisingly cultural at times. We got to see the Matisse and Chagall Museums (photo of the beautiful house that's the home of the Matisse Museum above).
And we saw some amazing, playful work at the Museum of Contemporary Art. We were particularly entranced by the work of Niki de Saint Phalle, especially her Loch Ness Monster:


But of course, Nice is also about THAT beach, and that weather and that amazing Provencal food and that way of life. When the sun came out for the last few days, we were able to wander around the harbour and the old town. We could swim (at least till a shot of icy water gave me an ear infection). Dear daughter had some fun avoiding a suntan, which is verboten for one as goth as she!
But she just adored the relaxed pace of life, the language (elongated vowels and rolling consonants compared to crisp Parisian - but we so need to work on our spoken French). And the chocolate. And the olives. And the churches. And the bell towers. (And, at least for us parents, the wine!).

We also found a little gem in a suburb of the city - a Russian Orthodox Church. For a few blocks, you see shops full of Russian produce with cyrillic lettering on their doors. They're cheek-by-jowl with the usual boulangeries selling pissaladiere and baguettes. A lovely example of effortless multiculturalism (ironic, given the goings-on near Calais this week).



I'm sure we'll go back, although next time I'll bring more mosquito repellant - we gave some of the local insects several square meals, but perhaps it's the season!

Deary speaks out

In these 'interesting times' how good is it to hear that someone you admire shares your views?

This quote is from an interview by Sinclair Mckay with "Horrible Histories" author Terry Deary (Telegraph, 1st September 2009):-

Deary is profoundly opposed to schools. That is, to the institution of school itself – to the extent that he will never accept an invitation to give a talk in one.

“I get 200 requests a year and the answer is no,” he says. “I detest schools with a passion. I’d rather cut off my left arm and eat it with Marmite than go into a school. And I don’t even like Marmite.

“Schools are an utter waste of young life. Learning things that will never be any use to you. The only reason they are there is to keep kids off the street. They were a Victorian invention. The Industrial Revolution took kids from their families and made the parents work in factories long hours. Then they said, ‘we can’t have these little kids working here.’ So what do we do? Lock them all up in the same room all day and we’ll call it school. I spent hours learning trigonometry, physics, none of which prepared me for life. Relationships, talking to people, managing money, planning your career, how to help someone who has cut their leg open. I have had to learn these things by default.

“There won’t be any schools in 25 years. There will be mentoring. Older people passing their skills on to younger people. Teachers know nothing about life and the real needs of pupils.”

Go Terry!, Go Terry!, Go Terry! ....

A bat called Bovril

This evening we went out on a bat walk organized by a local nature group. The weather was pretty foul and so, even equipped with specialist bat detectors, we didn't see/hear any out in the wild. Bats themselves might be reasonably hardy, but their prey (at least in Britain) are insects, who don't venture out in the kind of winds we had today. The great thing was that the resident bat expert had anticipated our lack of bats in flight and had brought along a pipistrelle born in captivity while her mother was being cared for by a bat rescue service. This tiny creature, called Bovril, has never learned to properly echolocate because her mother flew away before she was ready to take wing - the poor little thing wouldn't survive in the wild. So she's well cared for by the bat society and does major PR work for them. Having seen this incredibly cute creature, Dd would love a pet bat: we've had to explain this would not only be cruel (except in Bovril's exceptional circumstances) and plain illegal.

Heard some other fascinating stuff. There were recordings of the bat sounds which we might have heard on a less windy night - pipistrelles sound a bit like tap dancing in a puddle; noctules seemed a bit like the old Rolf Harris wobble board, while horseshoe bats (sadly not native this far north) sound a bit like R2D2 or a modem on acid! And a fascinating fact - bats mate in autumn but the eggs are only actually fertilized when the female is ready to start pregnancy (so if a particular Spring is cold the pups can arrive a bit later). Now that's family planning! Amazing creatures - we were spellbound.