All posts by celia

Languedoc Vine Report #22. September 4th

We had a visit from our mayor. You remember him – he’s always out and about in our village  attending all the festivities etc.

bank dispenser
our mayor at the opening of our village cash machine
our mayor in Languedoc
our mayor enjoying wine tasting

We’d had cause to ask him to intervene on a dispute with a neighbour who was burning foul stuff every Sunday morning in his barbecue.

I’m not talking chickens here. The smoke spiralling from the chimney on his barbecue was thick and black and toxic. I took photos for proof and after we’d complained to the neighbour, we took the photos to the Mairie as evidence of our grievance.

The French do like to get behind a good grievance.

At seven o’clock every Sunday morning, smoke like this stuff constitutes a good grievance, so off we went to complain.

By the way, we have an ally in reception at the mayor’s office. She lives at the corner of our cul-de-sac and was able to verify that she too had experienced the choking black smoke.

The mayor sorted the problem and the toxic black smoke ceased.

Then, some days later the mayor showed up at our gate. We thought he’d come to check everything was okay. No, he had come with a complaint from a neighbour about our hedge being too high.

Aha! we thought. This is a tit-for-tat issue, suggested this was the case and led the mayor around our property to show that there really wasn’t a problem with the hedge.

It turned out, he’d made a mistake. It was a different neighbour about a different hedge, but because the address was so close to our smoke complaint the mayor had made the same ‘tit-for-tat’ assumption as we had. He came back to apologise for his error. I made coffee, we sat for a Franglais chat and that was when we learned the harvest is 15 days late.

Late harvest

The cold weather I reported throughout spring has indeed led to a much later grape harvest than is usual. It’s much worse in other areas in France. In the Bordeaux region, they’ve had hail as Cult Wines reports. Hailstones big as ping pong balls. Ouch! And similar problems in the Champagne region. So, I guess, we’re lucky to be only late rather than damaged. According to Monsieur le Maire, some reds may be as late as October.

I set off on my rounds as usual to see what I could find.

What’s happening this week

My next door neighbour is growing grapes over his car port.

Languedoc vines
grapes in the garden

Netting keeps the birds off. It looks as if he has a good crop for the table this year.

In the vineyards, even though everybody is playing a waiting game as far as the grapes are concerned, there are still jobs to do.

hedge trimming
clearing the path for the harvesting machines

Hedges grow rapidly in Languedoc sunshine. This winegrower is busy trimming back wild Cotinus trees that flower with pink, smoke-like tendrils in spring. These ones, however, are right at the point where the harvesters need to turn round into the next row. It’s another example of good Languedoc housekeeping.

Further up the hill, another winegrower is clearing out between the rows.

harvest preparation
getting ready

Cuttings and weeds are going into the container. He’s also smoothing ruts in the soil to prepare the way for the grape harvesting machines.

At the cooperative Vigneron, they’re running the machinery and making checks.

Languedoc wine cooperative
home of ‘Fleurs de Montblanc’ and ‘Larmes d’Alexandria’

Here is where the grapes will arrive for our lovely Fleurs de Montblanc and the new range Les Larmes d’Alexandria.

I’ll be there to film as the grapes are dropped into the chutes.

Today, they were busy checking to see everything is turning as it should.

They were running the belts.

waste collecting
where the skins go

Nothing is wasted. They collect unwanted grape skins for making compost.

This morning, they were also testing the lifting screws.

grape chute
where the grapes go

The Archimedes type screw lifts the grapes up out of the chute. Once everything gets going, the village hums. No, literally. It hums. The wine machinery hums until you get so used to hearing it, you can’t hear it any more.

Along the lanes, it’s beginning to look like autumn.

Languedoc autumn
September colours

Dried grasses and early morning mistiness add to the end-of-summer atmosphere. Snails cling to what’s left of their grazing grounds.

snail grass
hundreds of tiny snails

 

 

 

Yet when you look  closely into the vines, there’s obviously some way to go before they’re ready. In amongst all the dark reds and purples, there are green youngsters, nowhere near mature enough for harvesting.

Languedoc Merlot
not ready yet!

Back home along the lanes, I’ve spotted blackberries and other autumn fruits.

almonds
one furry almond case has split open

It’s a wonderful time of year for grandmas to take little ones out into the countryside to see what they can find.

I saw this charming couple and couldn’t resist snatching a photograph. Together, I think these two are an artist’s dream subject. I love the way the light catches them as they crouch to look at something on the path.

 

looking at insects
finding something interesting

That’s all for this week’s Languedoc Vine Report. See you next week.

 

 

 

 

Another baby on submission

I’ve been sitting on this baby since May. Out of the blue, as seems to be the way with most of my ideas for new stories, a set of characters presented themselves to me as I was waiting for a plane.

Conception of latest idea

baby story conceived here
baby of a story conceived here

Now, I’ve heard of the five mile high club and often thought what an uncomfortable proposition that would be on the kind of budget airlines servicing our local airports. Toilet spaces are minimal to say the least. And if a child was somehow conceived during such a short hop at 36,000 feet, would it have to be called Sky or Cloud or Cramp?

Why Montpellier?

So, writer in Languedoc, what were you doing in Montpellier airport when Béziers is closer to home?

Languedoc airports
my choice of airports

I have a good choice of airports. This map doesn’t show all of them. To the west of Béziers, I also have Carcassonne, Perpignan and, at a  desperate push, Toulouse at my disposal. It all depends on where I’m going.

Last May, I was going to Leeds/Bradford airport, back to my home county for a much longed-for family visit. You can’t fly to Leeds from Béziers, not yet anyway, so Montpellier was the next best choice for my journey.

I like the Leeds/Bradford flights. They’re full of people who sound like me. It does me so much good to hear a nay, lass spoken with feeling. I love those old Yorkshire sayings such as you make a better door than a window, when somebody’s blocking your view. Tha can allus tell a Yorkshireman, but you can’t tell ‘im much and when somebody’s left the door open, were you born in a barn?

long lollikers
Yorkshire wit

Eee, lass, you can’t beat ’em. So, last May while I was waiting in Airport Departures, I noticed a little French girl with her Yorkshire father. Dad’s French came with very pronounced Yorkshire vowel sounds. We never lose them and, anyway, why would we want to? Mademoiselle’s French, on the other hand, was perfect. However, when she spoke in English, she spoke it like her father with his pronunciation. Mother was conspicuous by her absence.

I was fascinated. Out came my notebook.

Regular readers of my Random Thoughts blog will know I always carry my notebook and camera with me. I do a lot of people watching, and listening. You never know what you’re going to find that might be the inspiration for a new idea. This time, I didn’t need a photograph. It would have been too intrusive and you can get into a lot of trouble taking photographs of other people’s children. Fortunately for me the pair of them made such an impression on me the words flowed so fast my wrist ached.

Nobody could see what I was writing. Nobody would have been able to work out I was making detailed notes about this handsome father and his little French daughter. Before we boarded the plane, I had an outline.

But no ending.

This is unusual for me.

I always know what the ending is going to be before I begin to write in detail.

And that’s why I’d been sitting on the baby since May.

Ideas mulled in and mulled out again. I wasn’t satisfied with any of them. But, I make it a rule NOT to beat myself up about tricksy stories that won’t end themselves. I leave them alone. If it isn’t happening there’s a good reason for that. So, I wait. Something will happen. There’s always something else I can write instead.

This morning, I submitted the finished story. I hope the editor enjoys it. I hope the editor decides to pay me for it.

And if she does, and it goes into that very popular Fiction Special, I owe a plane load of thanks to the little Mademoiselle and her father on that flight to Leeds/Bradford last May.

I wonder if they would recognise themselves? I can’t tell you any more about the ending. That would be a spoiler.

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Edit: 5th September. Airport Departures sold today. Look out for it in Woman’s Weekly Fiction Special

Languedoc Vine Report #21 August 28th

 

Writer in Languedoc has had her short break back in the good old UK. It’s great to see family and friends and revisit old haunts.

Now I’m back to see what’s happening in the vineyards near my home in France.

Here’s this week’s photo of our Mademoiselle Merlot.

Languedoc Merlot
almost there!

Compare photos from previous weeks.

Merlot August 14th
August 14th
Languedoc Merlot
August 7th

 

 

 

Languedoc weather has been perfect for ripening the grapes. The vineyards look as if they’re ready to burst!

Languedoc vines
heavy with fruit

The whites are looking just as luscious.

Languedoc Chardonnay
yummy!

Looking back toward the village, you can hardly see the houses through lush vine growth.

Languedoc wine village
can harvest be far away?

It’s a waiting game now. A quiet time.

Many holidaymakers have already left. This coming weekend will see the last mass exodus when traffic is nose to tail at the péage. (Road toll)

Only a few visitors remain – retired folks and families with children under school age. Oh, and the bikers. Last week in August sees the Harleys and the Goldwings filling the promenade at Cap d’Agde, their owners occupying all the seats at Moules a Volonté – all you can eat mussels – or oysters. Cap d’Agde is the setting for my summer short story Aquapark Blues. Read it soon before I put up a new story.

When all the summer visitors have left, we get the beaches back to ourselves. Picnic spots are deserted. Touring dance bands are heading north. The noisiest things left are cicadas singing in the trees.

Summer holidays are consigned to memory. Soon, our village will be noisy again, with the sounds of the vendange – bringing in the grapes to the cooperative and I’ll be out and about, bringing you the sights and sounds of the grape harvest courtesy of my trusty little Coolpix. I’m a writer – I always have my camera with me. Besides, I’m one of those people who enjoys spotting something unusual. And, I usually do.

My short break in Norfolk, England brought a few surprises. On a familiar lane I found an unfamiliar sight.

vines in Norfolk
young Norfolk vines

I didn’t expect to see young vineyards stretching across Norfolk fields.

Last time I looked, the place was full of sugar beet!

There are no fruits. The plants are too young, and, I have to say, are looking a little spindly. However, I’m fascinated to find out what they’re growing under Norfolk skies, and, more to the point, what it’s going to taste like.

vineyard in Norfolk, England
vineyard in Norfolk
vines in Norfolk
a new English landscape

Oak trees and grape vines  in the same shot? Is this the changing face of the Norfolk countryside?

I’ll have to wait and see.

Join me next week when we should have news about the first grape picking.

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Cuckoos in the supermarket.

Cuckoos are everywhere. You can see them even in the supermarket. Standing around, doing their cuckoo things which don’t amount to much.

What is a cuckoo?

A cuckoo is a thief. Let me make this quite clear. Cuckoos steal from you.

cuckoo in the nest
cuckoos get you to do all the work

They steal your time. They steal your food. They get you to do all the work.

If you’ve got gamers in the house, people, you’ve got cuckoos.

Human Cuckoos.

Gamers are cuckoos in your house, Madam. Gamers who are obsessed with reaching the next game level at the expense of doing anything else are thieves in your castle, Sir.

They take and they take and they take and they give nothing back, because every ounce of energy they possess is going into the effort of gaming. So, you hardly ever see them except at meal times when they hover about, scanning the hob and oven for evidence that you are going to feed them soon. Certainly, you will never see them when there are tasks to be done about your home/castle: they simply cannot tear themselves away from their latest urgency which may be as serious as needing three more life enhancers (or whatever their game calls them) in order to protect their body shields. Tish!

Do I sound full of sarcasm? I hope so.

Worse, they can carry their precious games with them wherever they go.

Understand this. Gamers don’t want to be with you. Indeed, most of the time you are in their company (sort of) they are ignoring the fact that you are a human being who enjoys contact with other human beings. Most of the time they are ignoring the fact that THEY are human beings. They want to live in their virtual world. It’s more exciting there than here in the real one.

accessories for cuckoos
cuckoos’ accessories

They are afraid to be separated from their preciouses. I made that word up. Preciouses. With apologies to Tolkein. Regular readers of my Wicked Stepmother Chronicles will be aware of my feelings about teenage online gamers who I call Gollum Boys.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, gamers don’t like the real world and its real contact with real people. Maybe they have personality issues which makes them shrink from actually talking to people. Perhaps they have deep-seated fears about inadequacies that they can hide behind a facade of knowledge re: newest cheat codes.

Well, if they didn’t have issues to begin with, they will have by the time they’ve moved on to the next upgrade of Call of Duty.

Think I’m being too scathing?

Hold on. Look at this. See what I found in the supermarket.

supermarket cuckoos
giving mum a helping hand?

These guys were blocking the end of an aisle while Mommy did the shopping. She kept coming back to drop things in the trolley. The girl to their right was also playing on her hand held, but I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to get her in the frame. I had to snatch this photo quickly before other shoppers got in my way.

They are not teenagers. This is what teenage gamers turn into. Numpties.

Ladies and gentlemen, these are grown up CUCKOOS looking bloody stupid, standing there for all to see just how bloody stupid they look, letting someone else do all the work. Mommy is just as much to blame, letting them treat her this way. Saying it’s easier just to let your family gamers get on with it and stay out of your hair is just an excuse. Mommies and Daddies, you have allowed your offspring to turn into . . .

Pillocks!

If Wicked Stepmother had been their Mommy she’d have left them there. Gone home and made herself dinner for one.

Wouldn’t you?

Languedoc Vine Report #20. August 14th

Here’s how good our Languedoc Merlot is looking this morning.

Compare the photograph of our Languedoc vine with last week. Yes, just one week between photos.

Merlot vine
August 14th turning colour
Languedoc Merlot
last week

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One week of glorious Languedoc sunshine has brought about these welcome changes.

Humidity has been low; the sky purest cobalt. Temperatures have remained steady in the mid thirties with pleasant breezes. Paradise.

At dawn, I heard machinery and set off to see what was happening. The light was amazing – an artist’s dream.

Chardonnay vine
golden Chardonnay

The landscape was golden as syrup.

Dawn vines
Golden dawn light in the vines

The vineyards all looked as if they’d had melted butter poured all over them. My mouth was watering.

As I walked further into the vineyards, the sounds of machinery grew louder. What were they doing out at this time in the morning?

vine trimmer
tidying up the vines

Cutting back the extraneous growth helps keep the rows tidy and cuts down on the possibility of disease attack. First, they trim vertically, along the sides of the rows of vines.

vine trimmer
cutting blades set at vertical

The tractors and attachments are slim enough to travel between the rows. With the blades set in the vertical position, they trim each side of the rows of vines.

Languedoc vine trimming
trimming off unwanted growth

They move the cutting blades into horizontal position and trim the tops of the vines.

vine cutting
trimming the tops

The finished rows are neat and tidy. KInd of like good Languedoc housekeeping.

neat vines
typical rows of Languedoc vines

They look as inviting as a freshly made bed.

vine row close up
as neat as a freshly made up bed

As harvest time approaches, the growers will be testing and sampling sugar content in the grapes. Here’s a video explaining about sugar testing.

This video is from AlBeth vineyards in New York State. You can find them on Facebook. They haven’t posted anything on YouTube or Facebook for a long time. I hope that’s because they’ve been too busy.

Here in Languedoc, we’re expecting a late vendange (harvest).

immature vine
soaking up the sun

And, at this point, I’m taking a short break – a trip to the UK to visit family.

There won’t be a Languedoc Vine Report next week. But, I’ll be back in time to watch the harvest and afterwards take you to our local cooperative to show you what happens to the grapes when they arrive!

Cheerio for now.

vines at dawn
dawn sun in the vines

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First dark humour collection published on Kindle.

Mick Alec Idlelife. Writer of dark humour. MICK ALEC IDLELIFE. Who?

He’s just an anagram- that’s all he is. So what if he got a book published first? He couldn’t have done it without me.

Here’s the cover.

dark humour
dark humour for upgrowns

The title is as irreverent as his surname. That’s how he likes it. He doesn’t want to be categorised in a genre. The closest he will come to assigning a category of literature to this, his first collection, is to call it dark humour.

But, some of it is quite shocking. Endings can be quite a surprise. Other tales have an underlying sadness beneath the brash exterior. That’s life, according to Mick. There are no clear boundaries on feelings, he believes. It is quite possible to experience many conflicting emotions all at the same time, so why shouldn’t fiction reflect this?

There are six stories in this book, 48,000 words in total. As long as a novella. 140 pages or thereabouts depending on how large you like your font on Kindle. Mick would say it’s excellent value for money. He’s just paid £2 for something 12 pages long.

The title is wordplay in itself. There aren’t many words in the English language ending in a.r.s.e. Enough for this and a possible second collection. That’s going to depend upon the success of the first, of course.

So, it’s over to you now, people. One day I hope to be able to call you fans. Download fingers at the ready?

Here’s the page on

Amazon

-and here’s a link to my Amazon author page.

I hope you enjoy the characters and situations in Arse(d) Ends. I don’t think you’ll forget them!

Cheers!

Celia

 

 

Languedoc Vine Report # 19. August 7th

Here’s our vine. This is the same plant we’ve been watching since week one.

Merlot vine
developing later than her sisters

She’s being a bit slow. Other bunches on the same row are turning red in advance of her.

vine changing colour
getting there!

Further along the lane and into the next vineyard and the grapes are even further on in their change of colour.

Luscious vine
Looking good!

Skies were grey this morning. Humidity was up again. I met another grower filling large plastic containers from the water pump on top of the hill by the cemetery and we had a word. He was another elderly grower, originally from Spain whose French came bursting forth with rapid Spanish intonation and left me floundering. But, I got the gist.

The Marin is to blame for the dirty weather, he said. He shook his head and pulled a face. He believes we are at least 15 days behind our usual harvest dates. The first problem was the cold weather that went on into June. Now, it’s the Marin wind, bringing coastal fog and humidity from the Mediterranean. There’s more information about this wind here on weather online.co.uk. At its worst, the Marin can lead to devastating flash floods. Let’s hope the wind changes soon.

I didn’t take a photograph of this grower. I think I’m getting a reputation amongst the old fellers in the village. I don’t want them getting the wrong impression. Fortunately, Monsieur Joseph can put them right about my marital status. Remember him? We’ve met with his family from Manchester and had a barbecue together.

Last year, the daughter was a girl. This year she’s a young woman. Groomed eyebrows and everything. Beautiful girl. How does time fly. Here am I watching the grapes grow from week to week and out of my sight massive changes are taking place. My friend’s daughter has left childhood behind. It’s cause for celebration that she is turning into such a delightful young woman, but it’s tinged with sadness for what is past. Those days are never coming back. You can’t live them again. They’re memories now. I remember saying goodbye to my daughter’s childhood.

Enough. I’ll be writing a novel about it if I don’t stop. Or, I’ll be blubbing.

I walked further. The Marin was blowing. The cicadas were still singing.

Past the cemetery and down the other side of the rise there’s a mausoleum. It’s beyond the boundaries of the cemetery itself, at the edge of a vineyard so I wonder if it’s on unconsecrated ground. I wonder who was buried here?

tomb in the vines
couldn’t bear to be parted from his vines?

Maybe next time I’m passing I’ll investigate more. I didn’t want to linger. The clouds were gathering.

vineyard lane
the way back home

Later, we had rain. The humidity is off the scale. It was too hot to sleep. I got up at 4am, put some mix in the breadmaker and switched on my trusty iMac to complete this week’s Vine Report. I hope you can sleep where you are!

Cheers! See you next time.

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Languedoc Vine Report #18. July 31st

It’s HOT. This Vine Report is going to be a short one. I haven’t the energy to walk far. My apologies to readers who look forward to lots of new photos of what’s happening in the vineyards. However, here’s this week’s photo of our chosen vine, Mademoiselle Merlot.

Merlot vine
Merlot on the turn

The sun is beating down as I stand beside the vines to take the picture. I think I might have been a little weary – it isn’t the best picture I’ve taken. My hands must have been shaking; it’s a little fuzzy. Blame it on the Féria wine.

It’s too hot to walk much further for more photographs. Fortunately, it’s only a short step to take a picture of the other vines we’ve been watching.

Across the road in the next vineyard, Chardonnay vines are plump.

Chardonnay vine
Chardonnay grapes looking lush!

Chardonnay grapes are used in Languedoc’s bubbly – Crémant de Limoux. Sometimes called Blanquette depending on who’s making it and where, it’s champagne in all but name.

Blanquette bubbly
lubbly bubbly!

We tasted quite a lot of it during the Féria. It’s a great drink for celebrations.

After the three hectic bull-packed days of the Féria, we’re all feeling a little worn as well as more than a little warm. Temperatures have held at the mid-thirties these last two weeks with nights not dropping below 26 degrees.

And the HUMIDITY! Don’t talk to me about the humidity. The Marin brings cloud from the Mediterranean and locks in the heat like a blanket. There’s no escape. Visitors from England learn why we close the windows and fasten the shutters.

Why are you living in the dark indoors? they ask from their sun beds as their skin turns red and crinkly.

For the relief of it, we tell them.

Humidity can be a huge problem in the vineyards.

Powdery mildew is a white fungal growth affecting the leaves and fruit. Affected parts may become yellow and distorted, and the mildew may kill small areas of plant tissue which falls away leaving small holes. The fungi are most prevalent in dry soils but where the air is humid. Plants suffering from drought stress are more likely to be affected. So, the growers have been out spraying and trimming again.

vines
looking toward the village

It’s a relief to reach the shade of home.

lonely bench
lonely bench

In the square outside our gate. Where is everybody? Hiding from the sun.

Home
a welcome sight

Ah! Home! Anybody fancy a cold beer?

Cheers! A bientôt!

Féria festivities Day #3.

Rejoneador at the Féria
bullfighter on horseback

The rejoneadors are bullfighters on horseback. Not the same as picadors, these are matadors who are also dressed to kill. They don’t wear the suit of lights. Their costume is less flamboyant, but very smart.

They come to our Féria to demonstrate their horsemanship and to take part in the afternoon session devoted to riding skills. The horses are beautiful and very well tended.

Féria horse
waiting to perform

After, the horse show it’s back to fun and games attempting to outrun the bulls. The lads lie down in front of the entrance. The first bull comes tearing out.

racing bull at the Féria
the bull cleared the line of boys

Those boys are glad the bull can jump! Now they scramble to get up and clear out of his way. When he turns around, chances are he’ll be very angry.

This bull was particularly energetic and very clever. He spotted a gap in the fence and made for it. Soon, he was running in the space reserved for the toreros.

Four bulls come to chase the boys around the arena. To escape, the lads must either clear the perimeter fence, or jump in the pool of water. In theory, the bull won’t want to get in the water. In theory!

Toro piscine at the Féria
so bulls don’t like water, huh?

Sometimes it’s best not to move a muscle.

bull at the Féria
whose move next?

There’s never a shortage of youngsters who want to chance their arm.

young bloods at the Féria
getting ready for the next game

There are prizes for the best performance. Top prize went to a local young man, Antoine, who can somersault a charging bull. I wasn’t fast enough with my camera to catch a good shot. Here’s one I borrowed to show what I mean.

bull somersault
are they crazy?

Antoine did a clear somersault first, as in this photo.

On his second one, he landed on the bull’s head between the horns and then pushed off into a forward somersault. Amazing.

I wished I had a real movie camera to capture that moment.

When the games are finished on the third and final day, it’s time to relax with food and music.

At the very end of the three day Féria, Toro de Fuego blasts off with more fireworks.

toro de fuego
more fireworks to end the show

 

A model of a bull, loaded with fireworks ends the show with a bang!

 

 

Féria festivities Day #2. Dressed to kill.

The first day of the Féria ends with disco music and foam party that goes on way past midnight. Best to wear your not so best clothes. You are going to get very wet. Kids love it, as do mums and dads. Even grandmas like me have been known to enjoy a little dip in the suds. It’s a great way to open the fiesta. Kids go home exhausted.

foam party at the Féria
pumping up the action

They’ll sleep like logs ready for another fun-packed day.

On day two of the Féria, the professionals arrive.

They wear their suit of lights, the traditional costume of bullfighters.

Matador at the Féria
Matador in his suit of lights

The traditional design of the torero’s costume is steeped in history. The description, suit of lights,  refers to the thousands of sequins and reflective threads of gold and silver embroidered on the silk. The donning of this 18th century costume is a ritual in itself, whereby the torero attended by his squire is literally dressed to kill.

Here’s a lovely video by Mike Randolph about the making of a suit of lights:

After the morning session of our Féria is over, lunch is usually paella cooked in enormous pans or a variety of meats grilled over vine wood on open fires. In the afternoon, it’s time for the Games.

Languedoc bull games
waiting for dancing with bulls

This is going to be exciting. Mothers and grandmas wait with bated breath. Their sons are gathering in the ring to pit their wits against this great beast. Grandfathers look on proudly.

The young bloods of the village lie down in front of the bulls’ entrance.

When the beast charges into the arena, he will, in theory, leap over the prostrate bodies in the sand.

There’s a bellowing noise. The crowd goes quiet. The bull is coming. Look out!

at the Féria
glad he made it!

That was some weight that just went thundering by. The boy in the green shirt near top left of the photo can hardly believe his eyes. There’s more fun to come.

I think he lasted all of three seconds.

These boys have got to be fast. In my next clip, one of them wasn’t quite fast enough.

Day two of the Féria ends with live music from a big band with dancing girls and fireworks at midnight.

Sleep well. There’s another full day tomorrow.

Féria fireworks
fireworks light the night sky