Dune - Part One

Dune: A mythic and emotionally challenged hero's journey. 

This is the story of Phil Heides, a brilliant and gifted young man (erm - bolshy old git) born into a great destiny beyond his understanding (as are most things), who must travel to the most dangerous parts of France to ensure the future of his family and his cat.

As malevolent forces explode into conflict over France's exclusive supply of the most precious resource in existence (wine) a commodity capable of unlocking humanity's greatest potential - only those who can conquer their fear will survive to drink more than one bottle.

Our story starts with a long voyage to the outer reaches of the snooker room.

After spending an entire night struggling to get out of the drive, the two star struck lovers, Phil and his concubine Annick leave their home, fighting immense battles with demonstrating taxi-drivers and hurtling through intense sand-storms (of the damp variety), only to finally find a short respite on a remote strip of damp grass. 

Very damp grass.

This led to a short break away from rampaging Harkonnens and sand-worms in a small oasis called Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.

An oasis full of precious alcoholic resources...

and watery stuff

OK, maybe we haven't got to the sandy bit yet...

As wine can only be produced in France, control of the country is a coveted and dangerous undertaking.

We climbed up the ramparts to escape the Emperor's ferocious Sardaukar troops...

...to look down upon the Church of the Bene Gesserit. 

The concubine Lady Annick is an acolyte of the Bene Gesserit, an exclusively female group with their own toilets, that pursues mysterious political aims (such as bending their men to their will and hurting peoples fingers) and wields seemingly superhuman physical and mental abilities (possibly slightly exaggerated by their propaganda department), such as the ability to control their bodies down to the cellular level (a bit like all of us really), and also decide the sex of their children (unless they decide otherwise).

Having passed through torture and torment (there were a lot of steps) we finally looked down upon the desert below. (Photoshopping required...)

And so, thanks to the interplanetary travel made possible by Bordeaux wine, we arrive in Arrakis (aka Biarritz.)

The fortress loomed over the desert.

Due to severe budgetary cuts, the arid dunes devoid of any water were more than a little humid.

Phil was beset by visions of a future with water deep enough to dive into.

Ok guys, we're overdoing the water visions...

The local wildlife was dangerous indeed.

Here's another...

And there, the Harkonnen stronghold of Biarritz...

Even those sand dunes looked suspiciously wet.

Finally, sand dunes made of real sand. And a few tree trunks, and a multitude of bits of plastic. 

I don't remember that in the film.

To avoid being consumed by sand-worms, I carefully developed the ability to walk with a limp. A limp what you may ask? 

Realising we were close to the end of Part One, we up and left to discus terms with our agents. 

Leaving Arrakis, the dunes waved goodbye...

See what I did there?

Thankfully the most awesome battles could be watched from afar. 

Here, France destroying Wales....

Next: Dune, Part Two - The Children of Dune.

It's the End of the World as we Know it

After a prolonged and failed second attempt by my rebellious right leg to disable me (never trust your own limbs), I managed to engage automatic in all the relevant bits of our all-electric world-saving car (more of this later), shove multiple bags of stuff into an interestingly limited space (including two sweet children aka the two little monsters) thus finding ourselves, once more, far away, in our retreat from reality, in the depths of the Pyrenees.

However, reality had retreated less far than hoped, and indeed had already caught up with us. 

As the clouds released their damp contents all around us, we sheltered indoors for that first afternoon. It turns out that all those years in university playing table football (cutely called babyfoot in French) had not been wasted. I had, after all, also learned a little snooker...

The following morning, once the clouds had released their cold embrace, the slopes were revealed, void of all but the smallest remnants of snow.

We are witness to the death of an industry. It's the end of skiing as we know it.

However, fear not! In order to single-handedly save the planet, I have selflessly invested in electrifying our car and, most important of all, recycling our coffee pods.

Phew. That was a close one for planet Earth...

And so, after a walk around the block, we headed for the denuded slopes with our trusty sledges, stopping on the way to fall off a conveniently placed log.

Of course, the two little monsters are quite capable of falling off all manner of things.

Falling, as an art form, is more adapted to the young than to us older creatures,

 as Annick was soon to find out...

It's the end of the slope as we know it.

Incoming...

After a 'small dish' (you have to be kidding me!) at our favourite local...

... we made our way right to the top of the mountain.

Despite my handicapped limb, the ascent was simple. We used the otherwise useless defunct ski-lift. The descent, unfortunately was more tricky, mostly due to Annick's discovery of the force of gravity.

This is the last picture of my most beloved-one before that fateful event...

Meanwhile, the two monsters attempted posing for the camera. 

Kaïly tried nonchalant,

while Lyzëa attempted the sullen look...

Lacking skis, our return trip down the mountainside involved trusting to that same ski-lift whose design was more orientated to lifting up than to descending down. To get onto that precarious perch, we had first to launch ourselves upwards whilst carrying multiple bags and, critically, two little monsters. 

Lyzëa managed to cling on with little help from me. Annick & Kaïly however, fared less well. As I was passing over their heads and disappearing downhill, I regretted our lack of readily available video equipment to record this interesting and exceedingly dangerous event. 

Instead of original footage, we have had to reenact their misadventure using two available stand-ins.

___

Annick lept for the chair-lift, failed to place bottom on bench, and slipped towards a vertiginous drop.

Kaïly fell before her, skidding towards the yawning chasm.

Thankfully Kaïly managed to cling on by the tips of her fingers, giggling hysterically.

A second attempt, aided this time by a stationary seat, was more successful.

Arriving finally at base camp with all limbs intact and only a few additional aches and pains to add to life's long list.

It may be the end of the world as we know it...

But I feel fine...

...apart from <insert various aches and pains here>...

Searching for Snow

Our first excursion of the year. A sojourn much needed to calm the after-effects of seasonal stress.

Four nights relaxing in the deep, distant, snow-capped mountains of the Pyrenees. 

What a great idea!

Only, how the devil do we get there? 

French farmers had taken it upon themselves to disrupt pretty much the entire French road system using their main tools of dispute; powerful unions, an over-abundance of tractors, mass hysteria, mouldy straw and, erm, a liberal dosing of slimy shit. 

Slurry and mould; just some of the amazing by-products of farming. Other by-products include the mass poisoning of the water infrastructure, warming of the atmosphere due to impressive volumes of methane, destruction of the natural environment and... smell.

Their primary complaint appears to be that the EU wants farmers to stop destroying the planet. Well, I'd like to add my voice to that. 

And it seems that most farmers agree.

But... the French government also wants them to produce more food for us poor starving peasants.

A tricky one huh? And not a problem confined to just animal (mostly beef) farmers. I'm looking forward to wine growers depositing larger numbers of bottles of wine on the motorways. 

___

Thus we took to the byways, 

avoiding traffic jams and, in fact, avoiding traffic altogether. A longer trip, yes, but significantly more interesting than the normal motorway journey, albeit inducing a French revolution in Annick's French digestive system. 

We were both looking forward to a few relaxing days. A chance to recover from the abnormal stresses forced upon our aging and failing bodies. To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there's the rub, and possibly seeing some of this increasingly rare thing once called snow.

And there it was in the far distance. 

The strange orange glow behind this stupendous mountain range was unsettling at this hour of two o'clock in the afternoon, but I was not worried. The apocalypse was yet several weeks away.

Plan A was to improve our health with long walks in the mountain forests.

Therefore we reluctantly settled for Plan B.

Our home in the mountains was noticeably lacking in white stuff, just visible in the far distance.

We gradually succumbed to the onslaught of solar rays. This involved relaxing in the garden in balmy temperatures of 19℃, 

..thus putting plan B into full effect...

...accompanied by...

...bees...

...butterflies...

...aliens...

...and other beasties not so often found in the depths of winter high up in the mountains.

We ventured further south, deep into the mountain heights. 

We finally found some snow...

Erm... just...

These are the ski slopes just two weeks before the hight of the ski season.

Did I already mention the oncoming apocalypse?