Phil laid bare

Medicine as an Art

Spending much time in hospitals does not provide an over-abundance of photo opportunities. However, the photographic evidence of my traumas is here, below, for all to see (after complete maceration in photoshop).

Here’s the result of my first ‘trip’ into hospital

Oil painting of plate and screws

Then all the fun with my eyes. This picture comes from a retinal scan showing how cool my macula looks…

Retinal scan through macula

Problems with my hands resulted in this ultrasound….

Ultrasound of thumb joint

Leading to a diagnosis of terminal marriage…

X-ray of hand

Followed by stress fractures in my foot (pain in red).

Cross-sectional tomography of feet

As the medics considered me a disaster area, they kindly did a full body scan.

Unfortunately I think they may have overdosed me a little…

Post-holocaust Phil

This week I’m heading for the podiatrist, next week my second trip to the ocular vacuum cleaners. Maybe that’ll be the lot for this year?

Phil

sNowvember

It is just past mid-November and look what’s happened to autumn in the Pyrénées…

There is nearly half a metre of snow already! It looks like the ski season will be good, if my foot heals by then (I’m being stuffed full of radio isotopes next week to show up some suspected micro fractures).

Sky thinks Christmas has arrived early and has taken to burrowing in search of yummy bits left by the local sheep.

Our new driveway might look good, who can tell? The fence comes ready decorated…

Seeing autumn colours along with the fresh snow makes it especially beautiful up here.

It’s all very peaceful, especially as the front doorbell no longer seems to work.

More pix here:

a Spiritual Weekend

Every now and again, it’s seems necessary to experience the ‘other side’ to see if much has changed in the land of the spirit world…

…and I don’t mean whisky.

This weekend we visited the heart of Annick’s family, meeting together in the Cévennes to celebrate her brother Jean-Robert’s 60th birthday, and check out the local deities.

The party was held in Saint-Laurent-le-Minier, a small village in the depths of the Massif Central (Central Southern France), surrounded by mountains, rivers and gorges.

The river passing the village, called la Vis, falls ice-cold over rocks covered with slippery traps for the unsure-footed.

The waterfall is stunning, so much so that, whilst risking life and limb for my avid followers, I slipped and fell splat into the river, thus researching the hardiness of camera, phone, clothing and already damaged limbs.

The clothing failed (in the wetness department), the camera’s lens filter dented but carried on regardless, the phone didn’t blink, and the ankle matched it’s lameness with it’s opposite knee. So far, technology 2: humans 0. Hmm, not as yet a very spiritual weekend…

Not giving up, and with the aid of local superbeings superstores, I purchased a new wardrobe, thus not arriving at the party dripping and humiliated. Unlike Annick’s brother, Jean-Robert:

Spending a weekend with Annick’s spiritual side is, at the very least, bewildering… Watching the diversity of beliefs from a deity that controls your every movement (Extremist Evangelicals), through deities which may or may not exist, (Protestants) all the way to a pile of pasta with meatballs for eyes (er… that last one, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, is mine) is anything but enlightening.

Despite these strange beliefs, most of these guys are really nice, loving people, a bit like the rest of humanity really.

So what were the results of spending a weekend on the other side?

The main result was indigestion, due to the fact that believers seem to eat like the rest of us at parties…

And then it happened, my spiritual moment. Walking over the bridge below the village, looking at the waterfall with the sun setting in the background…

My spiritual side was still crying out for guidance however. Do I become one with my inner self and give myself up to woo? Do I become a deep thinking theologian and spend my life discussing things that don’t actually exist? Or do I step back and say “Whoa there! What happened to reality? Do the words 'evidence’ and 'fact’ mean anything? Where’s the toilet?”

In the end, all this denial of science led me to insist on visiting, on the way home, one of the Seven Great Wonders of the modern technological world. The Viaduct at Millau. Take that Oh Great One!

So, an interesting weekend. Has it made me a better person? Do I now see the truth? Is my camera still functional?

All will be revealed.

Or not…

Phil(istine)

Here’s some pictures from the weekend, spot the highly devoted…

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Put out to stud

This month has cleared the vision of my future, as well as the future of my vision….

This morning the boot, as they say, was on the other foot. Instead of me watching for problems with a horse’s action, I myself was lunged, trotted and generally humiliated to see if I still have problems with my gait.

The conclusion? A choice of a bullet or being put out to stud.

I have chosen the latter, although I’m not sure that Annick has yet grasped its full meaning…

The dawn of a new age:



Having had an idea that this was to be my future, I started the month with an exhausting 10 days in Wales giving me time to meet with various founts of knowledge, planning my retirement. They were unanimous in their judgment; I’m a complete idiot. It took them to point out that I had effectively retired several years ago, I need simply to pull back a little further. I have already retired, I have simply never realised it. Kinda weird huh?

So, having missed out on a retirement party, I spent the next few days awaiting my eye op with something approaching terror. In the event, the surgery was not at all painful. Infact, watching someone suck out your eyeball looking from inside your eye, is pretty bloody amazing.

Incredibly, the next day my vision was better than it has been for many years. Just one more eye to go….

The continued confinement (first my broken foot, then my eye) has minimised my photographic potential, but finally we made it once more to the Pyrénées, where I could click away, this time being able to see what I was aiming at.



The beautiful tones of autumn, as can be seen in the photo above, prove that my addiction to colour in photos was not due to blindness (as many of you have assumed), but continues even now that I can see what I’m doing. Many apologies to those who prefer drab; I live in vivid-land and I love it.

I tried a few walks with the dogs; still a little painful. My days of chasing sticks are over…

We spent some time touring the area with Domitille, Vincent, and their ever smiling crazy kid, Louis:

We went as far as Superbagnéres to look at potential alternative skiing. Conclusion: not enough bars and a little too steep, check out the view down to Luchon:

Cripes.

Luchon itself was more to my taste.

And so to our valley, where the first snows of winter have touched the mountain tops…

Having finally been put out to stud, I can now look forward (literally) to more time spent in my favourite place in the mountains.

Feel free to join me.

Phil

 

Here’s this months pic of the pix:

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Lame Ducks

Several weeks of enforced brain digestion come slowly to an end, leading to strange coincidences…

My incarceration nearly over, I attempt outings to town:

…and to the market, where Christian brags to Lisa about length. Lisa finds this amusing.

After this success, I attempted a more distant excursion, heading into the local hills, and heading for disaster.

Although Cordes sur Ciel may be beautiful (as in the photo below which depicts a shop entrance with a banner appearing to say ‘delicious terror’) it is also treacherous, as Angela discovered when attempting man-powered flight walking down the steep cobbled streets, finally coming to rest in Albi hospital. Whilst there, a phone call informed us that Sophie had tried a similar thing from her brand new scooter. Brand new no longer. Sophie now has joined the growing 'Legion of the Lame’ along with Angela and I.

The scooter is no more.

Whatever we do, wherever we go, here’s where we end up. There’s Angela hiding her war wounds behind Annick.

Sisters in arms.

Taking our lives in her hands, Annick took the Legion of the Lame up to our building site in the Pyrénées:

Being cripples doesn’t stop us enjoying ourselves. This photo was taken in our favourite restaurant on the planet. Atop the Pyrénées.

Talking of lame ducks…

Next episode: Phil, after turning wine into 'water’, takes up his bed and walks. Then has his sight removed. Bummer.

Eye surgery here we come…

Here’s a few pix…

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Watching the defectives...

Some might like the idea of sitting around all day in front of the television, with wenches around you seeing to your every whim. Indeed, it is said that this could be our next evolutionary step, so that, in the same fashion as the sea-slug, as an adult we fix ourselves to the sofa and (because of lack of use) digest our own brains.

Well, I can tell you, brain digestion does not take long. I can no longer remember important things, such as why the f**k I thought that jogging was good for my health…

There are many downsides to being totally torpid, one of which is the distinct lack of photo-opportunities. This, for a photoblogger, has been a significant setback. In my quest to overcome this disability, I have developed a new form of photography, namely ‘photo-à-pied’ (or 'photo-apathy’ in English).

my current view of life

 

Having fellow cripple Roger staying over with Denzil has stretched our ingenuity somewhat. Both of us having screwed our left feet (literally) has severely affected our normal dancing abilities, (leading with the left foot being particularly tricky), leaving us the choice of movie watching or stargazing. Hmm, sometimes that’s the same thing…

Roger stargazes

pink moon

After several weeks of enforced lethargy, I have finally managed to get around my 'estate’ with the help of our lawn mower. Hopefully the vibration will not unscrew my foot. This has allowed me to see my newly grown weeds in all their majesty. If anyone fancies a weeding holiday, please let me know soonest, before the garden reverts to complete wilderness. The wisteria has already demanded a ransom for the return of various missing guests.

So, all in all, I’ve not many photos to show off this month. The copious spare time has allowed me to edit all the photos from Africa (click here) and I did manage to take a few photos in Tintern Abbey in-between a couple of multiple crises, and I’ve included these along with some poor pictures of our new ducklings (which, between sightings have grown twenty-fold).

I’ll sign off before there is a chance for another crisis to unfold. The omens are not good…

trouble ahead

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Uganda/Rwanda day 10

Our second and final foray into gorilla territory.

Hmm… I’ve run out of superlatives. Let’s just say that today was pretty damned good.

All those months of hill walking and jogging paid dividends today. This was the toughest walk I’ve done for many years, if ever. We trekked up steep mountainside for about two and a half hours before finding the gorillas.

But the scenery was breathtaking.

Ok, I’ll work on the photos when I get home.

The altitude we reached matched the highest mountain in the Pyrenees! Oxygen was a little scarce (thus ‘breathtaking’). If heavy breathing turns you on, this is the place to be.

Our guide was a real entertainer, full of stories of the relationships between the many gorillas in this park.

Here he is, talking to us, telling us what and what not to do around these massive beasts, whilst looking downhill at a small group of gorillas beneath us. As we were sorting ourselves out, taking off backpacks etc. the undergrowth behind us parted and this guy barged right through us! Turn, focus, shoot…

Over the next few minutes several more of the group wandered through us. We followed them a short way to where they had settled to eat, sleep and play. This baby tried to join in with all of it.

This big silverback had lost one arm to a poachers trap some years ago. Although a big fella, he’ll never be able to become the boss.

This group was named 'Peace’. Why? Well, the head silverback of a family group remains the boss until he dies (naturally between 35 and 45 years old). He is never challenged. Once he is dead, the silverbacks in the group must fight for leadership.

With this group there were then two silverbacks. They fought for two days with no overall winner.

They then did something never before seen; they agreed to split the group into two. Ever since then, the two brothers occasionally swap groups, including wives!

Hmmm…

Here is the big guy, overlooking his family.

On sadly taking our leave from this humbling experience, we stopped for a breather overlooking a forested volcanic crater.

We finally arrived back at base, dusty and tired.

Such an amazing day. Never to be forgotten.

After a quick freshen up, we set off on our way back to Europe. We stopped off for an overnight stay at Gisenyi on the shores of Lake Kivu.

We are now to head off to the airport in Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, to battle a couple of days of bureaucracy and discomfort, before arriving home and letting loose the dogs of photoshop.


Bye!

Uganda/Rwanda day 9

So the sun rises on the day Annick has awaited for most of her life. No jokes about meeting the right man please.

After being briefed on what to do when a silverback gorilla charges at you (clue: change underwear), we set off fully kitted-up with gaiters and gardening gloves, trekking initially through farmland towered over by a volcano shaped like an amusing body part.

Then into the dense tropical rain forest.

After walking and crawling and ducking and tripping for several hours (editors note: 90 minutes) we stumbled across our first gorilla, who just happened to be the largest silverback in the wild anywhere on earth…

Truly magnificent, if not a little pissed off that we had interrupted his dining activities. His charge towards us caused a number of wet patches.

Once he had wondered off in disgust, we turned to see a blackback staring at us. He decided to come across to us, apparently interested in one of the Trekkers mobile phones. No signal though.

We saw eight gorillas all told. Once more we came across the head poncho, this time in a better mood smoking grass.

Before leaving the area, our guide took a photo of the three of us wondering what the hell was going on behind us.

The trip back left us physically and emotional exhausted.

What a great day.