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:

[AFG_gallery id=‘85’]

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…

[AFG_gallery id='84’]