Other people's lives

As our friends know, Tash and I are now using our other blog, which only a few people know about, for most of our personal matters, and I will just put an occasional note in this one.

I spent an hour the other day looking at other blogs at random and quite scary it was. Apart from the people who write illiterate, obscene or just plain boring ones, there seem to be many who use their blog as a sort of vomitorium, and pour out long-accumulated bile, either against the world in general or—as in the case of one woman whose blog I encountered—against her whole immediate family: mother, father, brother, husband, sister-in-law and mother-in-law, all of whom appear to be utterly hateful. I expect it made her feel better, though if none of them read it there doesn't seem much point, and if any of them did it can't have done the family relationships much good.

Still, it made quite a good read, much better than those dreadful self-congratulating blogs which tell you how gorgeous is the spouse, how successful are the children and how absolutely marvellous is the life they lead in their lovely home, with photos! Much-adored happy families are so much less interesting to read about—and less believable—than loathed and miserable ones.

Back again

Haven't posted anything for weeks, in fact haven't put hand to mouse since June. This is mainly because Tash and I have been staying with the d'Ascoynes at Aigues-Mortes, and lovely as their château is it has a mediaeval kind of electricity supply and Hugues doesn't have a computer. I never take my laptop to France - there are so many better things to do there than play with a keyboard.
Our friends, like many non-Parisian French, are not at all sorry about the 2012 Olympics going to London. If boar-hunting were in the program Hugues might be interested but I can't imagine Aglaonice wanting to watch any kind of sport. But we did all agree that the IOC was right to throw out baseball, which no-one cares about except Americans (though not us) and the ridiculous softball. Pity they didn't put squash in - even Tasha thinks this is a great game. Happily, that splendid sport ping-pong is still in - my English friend Tony has a great piece about it in his blog, here. He also gives a link to a post explaining its political significance.
Since we came back I have been looking at a few weblogs to see if I can find any interesting ones but had little luck; most are illiterate, self-obsessed or obscene, and just about the only one I found to admire is by a Palestinian boy who writes with remarkable restraint about his family's sufferings. His sister had her legs blown off by an Israeli shell and his father was shot, but he expresses no malice or self-pity, only a great and weary sadness and a determination to survive. He is 15.

Olympics 2012

One month from today we shall know where the next-but-one summer Olympic Games will be held. My English friends who live in London hate the thought that they might be held there except those who can go away and let out their houses or apartments for some exorbitant fee.
Anyway, a sizeable minority (about a third) of Londoners and almost the same proportion in the UK as a whole are hoping, with good reason, that London won't win. The Athens Games eventually cost the Greek population between $10 and $12 billion and the Chinese have budgeted $23 billion for the 2008 Olympic games – seven times more than the Sydney games. What chance is there of London sticking to its present guess of $4.33 billion?
For me, the English venue for the sailing - the only sport that interests me - sounds pretty dreary (Weymouth) and I'd be happier if the games went to Paris - the French will have the sailing events in La Rochelle which would be much nicer.

Foulmouthed Northerners

Just a reminder that this is an excellent analysis of the North/South divide in the USA.

Back at the tiller

Nice to get back on the boat again after all that fooling around in the snow though the first day out was a disaster as we had to run before a storm, shelter in Fundy and ride it out at anchor off St John. Actually it wasn't as bad as all that because Jean Delaunnay was with us and although he's a rotten sailor he is of course the best chef in Massachusetts (he says in North America) and with Tasha's help cooked some superb meals for the three of us. They laughed at me when I had a huge freezer put in the boat when we ordered it but now they have to admit it was a good idea because Jean had plenty of supplies to work with though in his restaurant he never uses any frozen stuff.
And we had five bottles left of the case of 1997 Gruaud Larose St. Julien that Jean's father gave me for my birthday. Jean says it's a crime to keep it on the boat being shaken around so we decided we had to polish it off. It took us two very enjoyable days about which I don't remember very much.

Dopes on the slopes

Haven't done any blogging lately as we've been in Europe, including three weeks in Klosters. Tasha's got a new camera and was very proud of this one of me: While we were there a mob of British royals turned up: Prince Charles, his two sons and a great retinue of servants, bodyguards and hangers-on. Fortunately we weren't staying at the Walserhof where they were, but an English friend of ours was, and said it was a nightmare: they are an arrogant, stupid, selfish bunch, he told us, and the thought of Charles becoming King appals him. In fact, he said, the sooner we (the British) get rid of all the Windsors the better. Not by firing squad, he hastened to add; he is a kind and gentle man, though like most English aristocrats he loves killing animals.
Anyway, as an American it was not for me to agree or disagree, but I did point out that if they went he would lose his hereditary title. Not really, he replied, other European monarchies were disposed of years ago but there are still plenty of Counts, Princes, Grand Dukes and so on swanning around Europe, so he wouldn't have to start calling himself "Mr". But he agreed that it wouldn't be quite the same.

Gimme a braht wit kraut

Just back from an exhausting week in Chicago, where we went for the wedding of my cousin William Cabot (they’ve probably lost count, but I guess he would be around number VII of that name).
Even by Cabot standards, it was a lavish affair, with a reception for over four hundred guests, and the associated celebrations seemed to go on for days. Chicagoans were greatly outnumbered by Bostonians (I haven’t seen so many Brahmins together since Elden’s 21st) but I did meet two gentlemen – sorry, a coupla guys – who gave me a helpful introduction to Chicago-ese.
His bride was an Italian girl, Domenica Mazzini-Bourbon, and about thirty of her family flew in, mostly from around Verona . They are an aristocratic bunch and I doubt if any of them have ever worked. Domenica’s grandfather has a title of some kind and is lending his palazzo (which I gather is a huge decaying dump but has a nice view) for the honeymoon.
My present to the couple was an oak chiffonier which used to belong to Louisa Lodge Cabot, who was William's great-grandmother as well as mine. It was probably the only gift which was not new and cost the donor nothing. I have no idea how it came down on my side of the family.