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dpnice - Archived Blog Posts

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I can’t believe how work manages to take over my life so easily and so thoroughly. Having planned to spend at least a little time enjoying some form of personal life the priorities and necessities suddenly became mountains requiring all my time and effort to solve.

Obviously I am a perfectionist and require that everything is done correctly; verging nearly on the side of being a maniac about how everything should be done. But I am nevertheless human with human needs so I am more than capable to decide at what moment one ceases to toil incessantly and step back to take time for myself. I am more than capable of doing the essentials and leaving the rest for later.

But when all the essentials become priorities and increase in number to a state where there is insufficient time in the day to complete them then the only solution is to delve into one’s free time.

Thus the reason for my absence; exhaustion coupled with finishing late in the evening is not conducive to sitting thoughtfully before a blank page and finding inspiration to write.

The fact that Madame departed on her summer vacation two weeks earlier than in past years does not give you the right to denigrate my assertions prior to her leaving. Nor does the fact that she will not be returning until the beginning of September allow you to ask what on earth I am complaining about.

The only difference that her absence makes is that for part of the year I manage to lead a normal life with fixed working hours and time to myself.

But yes I was euphorically happy on returning here after having deposed her and her guests at the port where her yacht is moored. Now I can appreciate all the advantages of living here; the calm and the view out to sea, the quiet moments on my terrace and, of course, no deadlines.

PS. Unfortunately I have started to smoke again; pathetic, no willpower at all.
 
Do not despair over failing to quit smoking; it is a horrible addiction and difficult to quit at best.

Try again and you may be successful again.

My Mother, now a robust 75 years of age, smoked heavily for 15 years and quit in her late 30's. She still says that on occasion, she still misses it, but only for some brief moments. She admits she's thought about starting again but knows she'd be right back to 2 packs a day instantly.
 
There is really no other way of describing my brief overnight stay in hospital than as unpleasant; obviously necessary but an experience I would have been happy to forego. Still old age and many years of nicotine abuse will eventually produce the sort of damage where surgical intervention becomes a necessity.

It is such a demeaning experience where even the basic bodily functions become a subject of group discussions by complete strangers gathered around your bed. Goodness! I am English; I don’t urinate in front of you and certainly not into a plastic bottle whilst lying in my bed. Talk about total blockage. It was only the threat of alternative methods that pushed me into action. Clearing the room of observant nurses, sitting on the edge of the bed and visualizing cascading water I finally managed, after what seemed like hours, that which is usually so simple and done with no thought or effort numerous times daily.

My genitalia are still recovering from the essential hair removal prior to the surgical intervention on my veins. I swear my penis has lost 3 cms in length; either through shame or fear at the approach of the razor. The poor thing just hangs there looking absolutely miserable. As for my testicles I don’t think they are ever going to regain their original position; so shocked they were by the whole procedure.

So here I am at home with a leg patched up with plasters and encased in an elastic stocking. Oh the pleasures of a body falling to pieces; old age can be quite pleasurable but it certainly is accompanied by quite a few inconveniences.

I am pottering around here doing tasks I should have done a long time ago; visiting JUB at my leisure; reading and cooking as and when I feel the desire. In fact a very agreeable week off work.
 
I understand the hospital experience. I also have been in the hospital quite a few times this past year. I have gotten used to all the probing and looking by nurses and doctors. I just shut my eyes and think of being other places.

I hope all goes well for you and you don't have to return soon.

(*8*)
 
I agree with Yooper. I quit and started quite a few times before it actually worked. Now I feel it was well worth the effort and wish I had done so sooner.
 
If willpower is matched against the addiction to smoke, willpower will usually lose. You must enlist other methods to beat smoking.
 
Nice is under construction. The major squares have been renovated and occupied by the tourists and the local population. The new tram line is at the consultation stage; if all goes as planned the terminal will be just a few streets away from my flat; property values will increase.

The centre has been demolished to create a linear park just to the sea, opening views of the Belle Époque architecture bordering the soon to be gardens.

So it was a real pleasure to have the time to eat lunch in the sun, well shade really, here:

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Obviously a pleasant day in town punctuated by lunch and a little clothes shopping would have been a greater pleasure if it had of been shared by someone close or a loved one. But I refuse to spend every day bemoaning my fate and solitude. Pleasure can be mined from any situation and sitting here sipping a glass of Chablis whilst watching the world parade in front of my table was certain very agreeable.


Here is a view from my table:



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If anyone needs to know the flowering trees are called Albizia; Silk Trees in English I believe.

The moral is that your personal happiness is not controlled by your relationships with others but rather by your attitudes and state of mind. Pleasure can be found where ever you happen to be it just requires you to open your eyes and appreciate the moment for what it is worth.
 
Can you imagine how even more delightful your pictures must appear to the eyes of stranger?
 
These photographs are magnificent and incredibly beautiful; thank you for sharing them with us. And thanks also for explaining the type of tree; I was quite curious myself.

I believe you have a strong message here as well. Now if only I could tell myself the same things as you have written I would be much better off also.
 
As the years pass by my command of the French language has not advanced as much as it should have done. Yet there are times when I have the impression that it has replaced English as the language in which I think and dream.

Often it is the French manner of expressing a feeling or sentiment that comes to mind first and often the English equivalent seems inadequate for the situation. “Overflowing with happiness” expresses my present state of mind but seems so pretentious and flowery. It happens frequently that I find myself incapable to find the correct words in English with which to articulate an idea or emotion. Or, it happens on occasion that, I find myself impotent when a translation French to English is required.

It is for those reasons that these feeble attempts to put thoughts into words have become a means of rectifying an absence in my daily life of communicating with others. My literary skills are not that of a writer but I would like the ideas I wish to be shared to be expressed in a language with a certain modicum of style rather than be scribed in the manner now so familiar of the social networks.

Donc, oui je débord de bonheur. Though my life may seem empty, with no aims or ambitions, a life so simple and isolated that normally I should be teetering on the edge of a depressive breakdown each moment of the day seems to explode with beauty and pleasure. Even the boredom of accomplishing the mundane tasks of summer maintenance hasn’t managed to dampen my spirits. Of course, living here in the South of France plays an enormous part and applies an influence that perhaps living elsewhere would not.

So if you are not surrounded in your daily life by such beauty as I have found here I will try to share it a little each time the itch to put words to paper starts to manifest itself.

attachment.php

 
This is adictionary definition with which I am not completely in agreement; not every effort is necessarily a “difficult exertion of the will”. In a multitude of situations the effort required may well be just a question of making up your mind to do something.

One certainty,at least for me, is that “making an effort” is a fundamental necessity if one is to reasonably succeed in living alone. In my situation where living alone is associated with a certain social isolation this fundamental necessity becomes the pivot around which every aspect of life revolves.

When a second person enters into the equation “making an effort” no longer becomes insurmountable. Certain daily obligations become automatic just because there is a second person involved in your decision making. Cooking an evening meal is a good example. Perhaps you have absolutely no desire to cook, you will nevertheless knuckle down and produce something without thinking that it is “making an effort”, even if you just pickup the telephone and order a pizza.

Living alone supposes that the needs and desires of a second person do not apply and any stimulus they could provide is absent from your life. Which means, quite simply, if you don’t do it no one else will. It also means you are required to do everything for your own individual pleasure and often you will find that this pleasure is extremely difficult to achieve.

With the accumulation of over 20 years of solitary living I do believe I have become an expert in the art of living alone. Yet even after so many years of ensuring that my life is full of small pleasures and that everything concerning it produces a form of contentedness suited to my needs and desires that insidious element “making an effort” insinuates itself into my life constantly.

Why make the bed every morning?
Why take the trouble to lay the table and cook an evening meal?
Why turn off the computer or TV and go out for the evening?

I don’t have ananswer to these questions except for the certainty that the days I don’t “make an effort” are those where the small pleasures of life are missing and where I begin to question whether I am happy with life or not.
 
Thank you for those beautiful words and picture.

If you dream in a second/foreign language that is solid evidence that you have a very good command of that language.
 
As content as I am with my life, over the last few years I have been having a constant battle with the supposed idea of living a life to the full. Making the most of what you have, taking advantage of all the possibilities open to you, sharing your life with friends/family and exploring new fields all seem to be required by society to prove that one’s life is full and worthwhile.

Being an intelligent being I see the value in all this, but when one is perfectly content with doing nothing, having no aims/objectives and no desire to explore new possibilities should one feel as guilty as I do with the pathetic, but well-ordered and happy little life I lead? The small pleasures in my existence are legion yet, constantly chiseling away at my peace of mind is the idea that I am wasting all my spare time and really should get off my arse and do something.

With my retirement looming in the quite close future I have begun to think that perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to replace lounging on my terrace gazing out to sea whilst letting the hours pass by with something more purposeful. Perhaps it is time to have a few aims to achieve,something to occupy myself and insert additional pleasure into a somewhat aimless life.

One of the many reasons for updating these entries regularly was to have some sort of stimulus in my non-stimulated existence. Spreading the contents of one’s life across the pages of an Internet blog does suppose that you are doing something worthwhile sharing with anyone having the kindness to read it. So it is decided; my life requires objectives, simple and easily attainable ones to begin with. Things that used to be an essential part of my life, only to be cast aside little by little as I sunk further into the pleasures of solitude and quiet reflection sitting mesmerized by the state of the sea below my terrace.

I have already commenced; the camera has come out of its box and though I will never be a world renowned photographer due to my trembling hands it is an occupation that I have always enjoyed. Strolling around looking for that interesting composition, view or novelty and being able to share the results with others.

To not overburden you I’ll leave it at that for the moment; let’s see how this one goes and if it is still playing a part in my life in a few months.
 
I don't think it's wrong to enjoy life as it is as long as you're not slacking around or being totally unproductive. I mean, in the end, that's what people aim for, don't they?

Also, your photographs are beautiful. I know lots of people who are around your age or even older. Some of them have been taking pictures for a while and some of them just begin to try it. All of them are happy with clicking and zooming and capturing still-lives. Just let it flourish.

:)
 
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I see nothing wrong with the full time occupation of contentment. Be that as it may, you live in such lovely surroundings, a photographer's dream. You have a good eye for photographic composition, and certainly could make a career as a photographer.
 
My emotional state of mind and appreciation of all the advantages that I have in life have reached such a level that I find it difficult to put into words the happiness that I am experiencing at present. I fear that I will burst due to an overdose of well-being. I am well aware of the influence the beauty of my living environment on my moods and this summer has been exceptional in exposing all the wonders of living here in the South of France. How unfortunate that these feelings can’t be bottled and sent as a gift to those suffering from loneliness or not as privileged as I.

The objective of venturing out on the occasional photographic expedition has been an essential ingredient to my present enjoyment of life. I chose familiar places, close by in order to reduce the effort required to emerge from my self-imposed imprisonment. Once Madame returns and my free time once more becomes limited it will require more careful organisation. But the benefits of making this effort will ensure that at least once a month I spread my wings and drive off to some destination, possibly unknown, susceptible to brighten up a life of solitude.

This is my last entry for a while as Monday sees me flying off to London to join friends before we wing our way to St Petersburg for several days. With the present heightening of homophobia coupled with the general insecurity in Russia my anxiety level is extremely high; indeed I am even worrying about what clothes I intend to take in order to look less of a rich metro-sexual with strong homosexual tendencies.

The new computer and Windows 8 are proving an absolute pleasure. The time I have spent learning my way around has been nothing but incredibly enjoyable. It does things I had never hoped to do on the computer and though there is still a lot to learn everything is now set up to my personal requirements. There remains a few frustrating problems that I can’t seem to solve but that can be dealt with on my return.

It was a pleasure to see some more blogs being updated recently. I was beginning to have the impression I would be supporting JUB blogs in lonely splendour.

A heartfelt thank you to those who take the trouble to follow my simple, uneventful life. Knowing you are there makes my daily solitude seem less a form of seclusion, cut off from the living world of human beings.

David.
 
Well all my fears were dispelled on entering Russia, for the first and unfortunately probably the last time, the moment the pretty young girl waved me through passport control. Even so they lasted a considerably moment as the rubber stamping seemed to be interminable. Even all my deep rooted anxieties had evaporated by the end of the first day.

The Internet had fuelled every possible apprehension I could harbour, from the bad weather,currency controls, insecurity and police checks to the rampant homophobia I was likely to experience whilst there. Yet one stroll along the major boulevard of the city and one was transported to any other European city with its luxury shops, stylish architecture and pedestrians decked out in every possible fashion style ever seen.

With one difference; the streets and pavements were impeccable. No litter and no dog-ends barring your passage. With a cast iron waste bin every two or three doorways I saw more people in 7 days disposing of their litter cleanly than in the 20 odd years I have lived in Nice.

The major culture shock was, in fact, the absence of any visible sign of homosexuality;no flags, nothing. I couldn’t even say that I recognized any one with gay tendencies, which is unusual in any large city.

The one moment that shocked me to the core was during a discussion with our guide, a young stylish, obviously well-educated and contemporary woman. We were discussing the ratio of women to men in Russia and she started to list the reasons why there were fewer men than women. And there it was in the middle of her list, with no more thought or emphasis than the other reasons; homosexuality. She was the type of girl who in any other country would probably have several gay friends; yet here she was automatically blaming one of the country’s problems on homosexuality.

Naturally I must mention the young men. My two friends ended up telling me off for the number of times my head turned on my shoulders to ogle the men passing by. Here I was meant to be acting heterosexual but unable to take my eyes off them. Physically they have tight muscular bodies and perfect arses; slightly aggressive looking, but then who doesn’t like a“bad” boy now and again.
 
I do wonder if my self-imposed reclusion has made me somewhat egocentric. Not to the extent of being incapable of supporting any contrariety to my own personal desires, but sufficiently to cause annoyance when they are opposed.

All of the holidays I have shared with Sue & Rod have been extremely enjoyable and this one was probably the best; full of laughter, moments of pure emotion and a sharing that few people are capable of achieving. Yet there were moments where the thought of not being able to do exactly as I pleased grated a little. Moments where I knew that if I had been on my own I would have seen more or had a better experience.

The simple differences of opinion that experience all friends of long date where one knows that one’s choice would have been better. Simple things such as a refusal to eat lunch twice in the same restaurant (a delightful place with good food and a spectacular view of St Isaacs Cathedral) which resulted in us eating a cardboard panini in a sterile and unappealing fast food restaurant. When in a strange city you don’t wander around aimlessly just hoping by some miracle to find the perfect little restaurant for lunch; certainly not when you have already found one.

Is it self-centered or just something that everyone suffers when holidaying with friends?

Thankfully I have not yet become such a recluse that I am incapable of making compromises or taking other’s needs into consideration. Unfortunately they both know me so well they knew exactly what I was thinking and were quite happy to let me “sulk” assuring me that “I knew best after all”.

How do you describe a friendship that has persisted for nearly 40 years? It amazes me how they have put up with my homosexual eccentricities over the years. To feel that burst of welcome at every new encounter, to know one is appreciated for what one is, to have one’s failings tolerated and to be aware that they know what all your reactions will be in any given circumstance; that is the definition of a true friendship.

If you don’t have that feeling of being privileged and that you are the lucky one in this relationship can you really call it friendship at all?
 
Although I don't think your friends have put up with your eccentricities because they are homosexual ones, I do think they have put up with your eccentricities because they are lovable.

Don't forget that.
 
At this present moment in my life I have been constantly wondering how come I can be so happy and contented when my life is so empty and uninteresting.

How come everything is such a pleasure when in the extremely limited free time that I do have all I manage to achieve is to either sleep or vegetate in front of the television?

Every resolution I make to include new activities and interests to my daily life fall along the wayside after some pathetic attempts to make them permanent changes. Is it just a lack of free time, acute tiredness after working so many hours or just an innate inability to make any real effort unless it is primordially necessary?

I just received a kind but sarcastic comment on how “passionate” my life was. I understand completely what stimulated that.

Do I, in fact,even care? Is it just a guilty feeling or perhaps the thought of others’ judgments of the worthlessness of my existence?

I think I will go and change the light bulb in my bathroom which I have been meaning to do for the last 6 weeks.

I have finally managed to download my Russian photographs to flickr. They are in no way exceptional but if anyone is interested in pretty churches you can find all 51 of them here.
 
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