Ecransbritanniques: British Screen Festival, Nimes 14 - 23 February

Ecrans Britanniques / British Screen, Nimes Bob Davis. Vice-Président Ecrans Britanniques.     We are pleased to announce the 17th Annual Festival of British Film and Cinema ECRANS BRITANNIQUES   Nimes 14th – 23rd February 2014 The Ecrans Britanniques printed programme is now available and in distribution - look out for it in Nîmes, for example at the Carré d’Art and the Sémaphore, and also at many other places around the region. Please find it attached here in pdf. Highlights as follows: Our two guests of honour are Peter Lord, leading animation film director and co-founder of the award-winning Aardman Studios, perhaps best known for Wallace & Gromit; and the much-lauded Mike Leigh OBE, director of Another Year, Secrets and Lies, Vera Drake, and many more of his own creations. Over the first weekend we’ll be showing a selection from the  Aardman catalogue, including Chicken Run and Pirates! and a number of shorts,. Peter Lord will also conduct a masterclass on the making of his Oscar-nominated Pirates!. Mike Leigh - 7 times Oscar nominated and with numerous Bafta awards - will join us mid-week for several screenings. A selection of his early television films - never before seen in France, like Abigail’s Party - will be programmed through the week, and the theatre group  Autres Mots will perform a bilingual reading of Leigh’s script of Grief. We will pay tribute to Scottish filmmaker Bill Douglas with his recently restored autobiographical Trilogy (My Childhood, My Ain Folk, My Way Home); and also to the Boulting Brothers, twins Roy and John, who in the post-era era were among Britain’s leading film-makers (Brighton Rock, Journey Together, Seven Days to Noon). The now traditional ciné-concert at the Théâtre Christian Liger will feature Alfred Hitchcock’s Blackmail, with Nîmes favourites Virgile Goller and musicians performing live to the BFI’s recent restoration of this classic silent movie. The current crop of new British cinema releases will include a good selection of new productions from Scotland, and our annual Round Table on Saturday 22nd February will have as its theme Scottish Film: Past and Present.  The three venues in Nîmes are the Sémaphore Cinema, the Bibliothèque Carré d’Art and the Theatre Christian Liger (Centre Pablo Neruda). Bob Davis. Vice-Président Ecrans Britanniques.     www.ecransbritanniques.org. Ecrans Britanniques / British Screen, Nimes Bob Davis. Vice-Président Ecrans Britanniques.     We are pleased to announce the 17th Annual Festival of British Film and Cinema ECRANS BRITANNIQUES   Nimes 14th – 23rd February 2014 The Ecrans Britanniques printed programme is now available and in distribution - look out for it in Nîmes, for example at the Carré d’Art and the Sémaphore, and also at many other places around the region. Please find it attached here in pdf. Highlights as follows: Our two guests of honour are Peter Lord, leading animation film director and co-founder of the award-winning Aardman Studios, perhaps best known for Wallace & Gromit; and the much-lauded Mike Leigh OBE, director of Another Year, Secrets and Lies, Vera Drake, and many more of his own creations. Over the first weekend we’ll be showing a selection from the  Aardman catalogue, including Chicken Run and Pirates! and a number of shorts,. Peter Lord will also conduct a masterclass on the making of his Oscar-nominated Pirates!. Mike Leigh - 7 times Oscar nominated and with numerous Bafta awards - will join us mid-week for several screenings. A selection of his early television films - never before seen in France, like Abigail’s Party - will be programmed through the week, and the theatre group  Autres Mots will perform a bilingual reading of Leigh’s script of Grief. We will pay tribute to Scottish filmmaker Bill Douglas with his recently restored autobiographical Trilogy (My Childhood, My Ain Folk, My Way Home); and also to the Boulting Brothers, twins Roy and John, who in the post-era era were among Britain’s leading film-makers (Brighton Rock, Journey Together, Seven Days to Noon). The now traditional ciné-concert at the Théâtre Christian Liger will feature Alfred Hitchcock’s Blackmail, with Nîmes favourites Virgile Goller and musicians performing live to the BFI’s recent restoration of this classic silent movie. The current crop of new British cinema releases will include a good selection of new productions from Scotland, and our annual Round Table on Saturday 22nd February will have as its theme Scottish Film: Past and Present.  The three venues in Nîmes are the Sémaphore Cinema, the Bibliothèque Carré d’Art and the Theatre Christian Liger (Centre Pablo Neruda). Bob Davis. Vice-Président Ecrans Britanniques.     www.ecransbritanniques.org. Ecrans Britanniques.  17ème Festival 14 – 23 fév. Nîmes     •    Hommage à Mike Leigh, grand réalisateur britannique, (Vera Drake, etc.)  en sa présence.     •    Hommage à Peter Lord, fondateur des studios d’animation  Aardman et réalisateur (Pirates etc.) en sa présence.     •    Retrospectives des frères Boulting (Brighton Rock etc.), et du réalisateur écossais Bill Douglas (sa ‘Trilogie’).     •    Ciné-concert  – Blackmail (1929) d’Hitchcock, animé par Virgile Goller et ses musiciens.     •    Actualité du cinéma d’outre-Manche, en particulier de l’Ecosse, avec invités.     •    Rencontres et Table Ronde ‘Cinéma Ecossais  d’hier et d’aujourd’hui’.     •    Séances scolaires. Lieux : Cinéma Sémaphore, Carré d’Art,  Théâtre Christian Liger. Voir notre programme pour tous les détails.

Maggie: January hike nr Salinelles then back to Jane's

 Photo credits:  Maggie
 
What a shame that more people do not take advantage of the wonderful opportunity to discover the Languedoc region, especially on a beautiful day like Friday, 17 January, when Jane (and Sammy) led us on the walk around Salinelles, along the infamous Vidourle.

 

We had dressed for cold weather, but ended up having to take off our jackets.  Although I was expecting to have to slog through the mud, since it seemed to have been raining for days, the trail was only muddy in a few spots.  The colors were magnificent, particularly for a winter day.  The bright green of some of the fields (might they be winter wheat?) reminded me of the rice paddies in Bali.

Mariannick, Jane + Sammy, Sue Rey, Terri

 We saw the Moulin de Pattes .......

and what looked like an old stationhouse.  There was no sign of rails, but the road is called chemin de la gare, which confirmed our theory.  We saw a 'mazet piégé' which threatened 'danger de mort' but did not fall into the trap.  Mariannick told us that the saw-tooth above the arches on one of the double St. Julien chapels is rare, and can also be found at St. Sylvestre des Brousses, where we hiked in May 2012.  We found an orange citrus-like fruit that we were unable to identify, even by taste.

  
There is a chateau with a pigeonnier and a noria (water wheel) in the village of Salinelles, and another noria down below at the lavoir.

The same little nombrils de Venus (navelwort, pennywort, penny-pies) can be seen around some of the windows as that found in Murles during our hike there in December 2011.

Following the hike, we followed Jane, by car, to her absolutely beautifully renovated home in the hamlet of Bancel, for tea and 'biscuits,' which included her home-made flapjacks (the British kind, which have nothing to do with what Americans call pancakes).  I could not resist taking a photo of her staircase; the stone is magnificent.  Thank you to Jane for showing us her part of France, her home, and her culinary skills.

I hope to see far more people on the February hike, which is planned for the coline de Clapiers, if it has reopened to hikers by then.  Friday evening after the Salinelles hike I saw a news report on the television, saying that dead pigeons were found all through the park, believed to be the result of people trying to poison the wild boars.  I had never seen a wild boar in this area before, but Saturday night, on our way home from Montpellier, two wild boars ran in front of our car across the road leading down from the zoo to the Agropolis roundabout.  Even if the boars are a bother to the locals, I feel terrible about the pigeons. 

     -m

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Save the Date for Summit 2014 - Thursday, January 30th

by Susan, OVF on November 26, 2013

You will meet and hear from key voices in the election community who are ready to address the real and pressing challenges of improving voting and elections access and policy for all US voters – domestic, overseas, and military.
New Event Format: The Eighth Annual Voting and Elections Summit 2014 comprises two half-day sessions. Choose a partial or full day, depending on your interest. See the complete agenda.
Themes
Morning Session: Grassroots Innovation in Elections
In an industry starved for resources, where is innovation coming from? This session will introduce change-makers of our...

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OVF Blog

Katharine: The Art of Presence (KRC not the author)

Editor:  the following article appeared in the NY Times on January 20 2014.  

The Angel of Grief at the Protestant Cemetery, Rome

The Art of Presence by David Brooks, Op-Ed Columnist of the NY Times

Tragedy has twice visited the Woodiwiss family. In 2008, Anna Woodiwiss, then 27, was working for a service organization in Afghanistan. On April 1, she went horseback riding and was thrown, dying from her injuries. In 2013, her younger sister Catherine, then 26, was biking to work from her home in Washington. She was hit by a car and her face was severely smashed up. She has endured and will continue to endure a series of operations. For a time, she breathed and ate through a tube, unable to speak. The recovery is slow.
The victims of trauma, she writes in a remarkable blog post for Sojourners, experience days “when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.”
Her mother, Mary, talks about the deep organic grief that a parent feels when they have lost one child and seen another badly injured, a pain felt in bones and fiber.
But suffering is a teacher. And, among other things, the Woodiwisses drew a few lessons, which at least apply to their own experience, about how those of us outside the zone of trauma might better communicate with those inside the zone. There are no uniformly right responses, but their collective wisdom, some of it contained in Catherine’s Sojourners piece, is quite useful:

Do be there. Some people think that those who experience trauma need space to sort things through. Assume the opposite. Most people need presence. The Woodiwisses say they were awed after each tragedy by the number of people, many of whom had been mere acquaintances, who showed up and offered love, from across the nation and the continents. They were also disoriented by a number of close friends who simply weren’t there, who were afraid or too busy.
Anna and Catherine’s father, Ashley, says he could detect no pattern to help predict who would step up and provide the ministry of presence and who would fumble. Neither age, experience nor personal belief correlated with sensitivity and love.

Don’t compare, ever. Don’t say, “I understand what it’s like to lose a child. My dog died, and that was hard, too.” Even if the comparison seems more germane, don’t make it. Each trauma should be respected in its uniqueness. Each story should be heard attentively as its own thing. “From the inside,” Catherine writes, comparisons “sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.”

Do bring soup. The non-verbal expressions of love are as healing as eloquence. When Mary was living with Catherine during her recovery, some young friend noticed she didn’t have a bathmat. He went to Target and got a bathmat. Mary says she will never forget that.

Do not say “you’ll get over it.” “There is no such thing as ‘getting over it,’ ” Catherine writes, “A major disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no ‘back to the old me.’ ”

Do be a builder. The Woodiwisses distinguish between firefighters and builders. Firefighters drop everything and arrive at the moment of crisis. Builders are there for years and years, walking alongside as the victims live out in the world. Very few people are capable of performing both roles.

Don’t say it’s all for the best or try to make sense out of what has happened. Catherine and her parents speak with astonishing gentleness and quiet thoughtfulness, but it’s pretty obvious that these tragedies have stripped away their tolerance for pretense and unrooted optimism.
Ashley also warned against those who would overinterpret, and try to make sense of the inexplicable. Even devout Christians, as the Woodiwisses are, should worry about taking theology beyond its limits. Theology is a grounding in ultimate hope, not a formula book to explain away each individual event.

I’d say that what these experiences call for is a sort of passive activism. We have a tendency, especially in an achievement-oriented culture, to want to solve problems and repair brokenness — to propose, plan, fix, interpret, explain and solve. But what seems to be needed here is the art of presence — to perform tasks without trying to control or alter the elemental situation. Allow nature to take its course. Grant the sufferers the dignity of their own process. Let them define meaning. Sit simply through moments of pain and uncomfortable darkness. Be practical, mundane, simple and direct.

The Angel of Grief at Stanford University, Palo Alto, CA, USA

Ashley and Mary went to Afghanistan a few months after Anna’s death. They remember that as a time out of time. They wept together with Afghan villagers and felt touched by grace. “That period changed me and opened my imagination,” Ashley recalls. “This thing called presence and love is more available than I had thought. It is more ready to be let loose than I ever imagined.”

Maggie: Aroma workshop at Jan's

Experience seems to be showing that January is not the best month in which to try to organize an activity.  Bad weather, prolonged vacations, and poor health can reduce the number of participants. 

Peggy, Clair S J, Hostess Jan, Susan Rey and Venus

 (Clair is the author of Revolution and Romance, who spoke at AWG's authors' panel last year)

Unfortunately there were only 7 of us (instead of 15) for the January 14th aroma workshop with Vénus Ticha, who has moved away from the Montpellier area and came all the way back from Béziers just to allow us to discover the fragrances and properties of some of the 42 essential oils that she had selected for us.  After some explanations about "emotion olfactive" and sniffing of the oils, we had to take a break outside to refresh and revive our olfactory nerves.

After the break we concocted our own personal scented creams.  Some of us concentrated on the fragrances (the standard lavender and mint, which Vénus says are an absolute necessity, as well as citrus, evergreens and resins, sandalwood, linden, juniper, rosemary, anis, geranium, patchouli, ylang ylang, jasmine) and others on the properties (physically or psychologically stimulating, relaxing, good for the immune system, good for the digestive system, good for the memory, comforting, anti-depressive).  When we were done, no jar of cream resembled any of the others.  Vénus asked each of us to create a name for our new scents.  I may have to find another name for mine.  One of my ingredients was 'pruche' (comforting, said to take away worries), which I mistranslated as spruce instead of hemlock, and named my cream 'Spruce Bringsteen.'  Perhaps I'll ask to try someone else's cream made with a stimulating oil, because at the moment all I can think of is 'Souvenir of Socrates.'  We also asked Vénus to prepare a special cream for Anne, who could not join us because of her recent hip replacement operation.  We named her cream 'Hip Hip Hooray.'

Vénus is available for guided visits to aromatic gardens and for other workshops, including one using essential oils for cooking.

Venus Ticha surrounded by her essential oils for fragrances

Thanks also to Jan for hosting this event, and for providing tea and cookies (all un-aromatic, in order not to conflict with the essential oils).

     -m

 Venus' website:   
  www.venus-ticha.eu.

Maggie: representing AWG at MRI Nelson Mandela renaming ceremony

Since Prez and Veeps were unavailable on Tuesday afternoon, 17 December, Jessica asked me to fill in and represent AWG at the re-naming of the MRI as Maison des Relations Internationales Nelson-MANDELA.  I had to race away from the Garden Group luncheon at Peggy Rig's in order to get to MRI, but arrived just in time for the speeches by Madame le Maire de Montpellier, Hélène Mandroux, some of the members of her cabinet, and a representative of the South African community. 

A couple of South African sportsmen arrived in time for the unveiling of the new plaque.  After Mandela's death, one of the members of the mayor's cabinet suggested re-naming a Montpellier park after the Nobel Peace Prize winner, but Madame le Maire felt it would be more appropriate to re-name the MRI. 

 

I cannot confirm it, but I think Montpellier might be one of the first cities in France to unveil a plaque to Nelson Mandela following his death.

 

Following the ceremony, I got a chance to speak to Madame le Maire, and took advantage of the opportunity to mention that AWG is part of FAWCO, and FAWCO is interested in organizing a conference in Montpellier.  Madame le Maire said we would have her full support.

     -m

Katharine: Galette des Rois at Peggy's

Photo credits:  Peggy R and Maggie P

Robyn had kindly offered to host our annual celebration of Galettes des Rois, but was felled by the
long trip from Australia she'd undertaken the day prior, so the Tea was held at Peggy R's in her gracious dining room.  It was a small group, but allowed for lots of conversation around the table, while the delectable brioche and galette were consumed over tea. 

Hostess for the afternoon Peggy

Mireille wears the crown for the afternoon

Mireille and Maggie

Susan Rey and Katharine J

Jane and Mireille

Elisabeth B

A lovely tea in a gracious setting

Maggie: Writers from Writers' Bloc share their stories

Happy New Year from the Writers' Bloc.  We would like to share three pieces that we particularly enjoyed, although we felt all were some of our best contributions since we started our workshop last February.  The subject for our December meeting was "A day in the life of..." and we found it very interesting that only three pieces were about a day in the life of a human being.  The other voices were of a table, a vegetable, a parrot, a plant, and a Christmas tree.  So as you are clearing away the holiday decorations, and perhaps throwing out a tree, please take time to think about how it might have felt....

 A Christmas Story 

Today is the most important day of my life, or rather one of the two most important days, but my elders say it is the best of the two. It is my day, an all about me day. I have been nurtured and trimmed for this day and it is finally here.

The morning started early and rather uncomfortably as I had been girdled in a straight jacket since yesterday and packed like a sardine with hundreds of others like myself, all night long, in a truck. At daybreak we were disembarked and were lined up like totem poles in the snow, waiting to be chosen, waiting for our day, our very special day to start. Some of us, I being one, were liberated from our girdle to attract attention and show the Christmas shoppers how majestic, flawlessly green and freshly scented we were.

After lunch time things really started moving and one by one we were adopted by our families. For me it must have been around 3:00pm.

“Mum, mum look at this one, this one is perfect, can we get this one?”

This one is me!

“You’re right David, this one is perfect, just the size we need. We will get this one.”

A few minutes later I was lightly tied up and riding in the back of my family’s car on the way to discover my home.

And here I am now, six feet tall, my branches spreading out as far as I can reach, a golden tree bag at my base.  Mum has already adorned me from top to bottom with both tiny white lights and a garland of sparkling silver tinsel. The lights warm me, not enough to burn, just enough to enhance my natural pine perfume.

The children, David, Sarah and little Daniel, are hanging colored glass balls, red, green, blue, silver, gold as well as transparent glass like soap bubbles, on the tips of my branches. David and Sarah are allowed to stand on chairs to decorate my top branches whereas Daniel has the exclusive job of hanging balls on my lower branches.

It is such a wonderful day and I feel more and more beautiful as it progresses. The decorations are a little heavy but I can feel just how good they look on me. The children are laughing while they decorate and there is music playing, Christmas music, right now it is “Silent Night” but a while ago it was my favorite “Mon Beau Sapin”.

In a box on the couch I can see the bright gold star that will crown my top. Dad will place the star when he gets home from work.

What a day, the elders were right it is the best day of my life.  

Author:  C.G.

*    *    *    *    *

 A Day in the Life of... 

This day begins like any other. Far too soon. The bleeping of the alarm means abandoning the duvet. Then, the hasty shower, shave, get dressed.  Yeah.

As in a trance, he pushes himself into the tram. Tries, like every day, to protect his polished black shoes from the pushchair wheels, the tramp's drooling dog, the other passengers' unforgiving feet.   Yeah.

All too soon.  "Place de la Comédie". Takes the tradesman's entrance into the big perfume store. The nightwatchman is leaving. Fumbles for the key to his locker.. Dumps his rucksack. Unpeels his anorak. There he is. Pointed black shoes. Black suit. Carefully-gelled black hair. Beautiful black skin. A glance at his watch. Time to go.    Yeah.

Up with the entrance grille. The usual bleeping from the alarm system. Busty blonde already in place behind the counter, licking her lip-gloss, flicking her hair. It's hotter than ever in here today. A new perfume makes him sneeze. The snooty supervisor jumps, then glares, stares, well, let her stare.  Yeah.

First few customers trickle in.  Furtive glances at him. Disdain. Fear. He should be used to it by now, except that he isn't. Might as well be invisible. This outfit he has is so uncomfortable. Alien somehow. After a weekend in tracksuit and Nikes, it's pure torture. Only his teeth show up, and why should he smile?   Yeah.

Alarm system is faulty and keeps bleeping. He's obliged to search the customers. Resentful young guys empty their rucksacks, contents often embarrassing. Young girls giggle and thrust their breasts at him along with their handbags. An old woman with a chignon, Louis Vuitton and bad breath, treads deliberately on his feet. And his feet hurt already.   Yeah.

Lunch break passes in a flash. Macdo and a coke. Cigarette outside, against the wall, shivering along with all the other coughers and hackers. Feet turning numb in those shoes.
What was his mother whining about this morning? - something he had to get from the pharmacy - No time left now.   Yeah.

Back in the doorway. Still the bleeping. Hotter than ever.  Suddenly a panic. Someone lying on the floor.  Drops to his knees. She isn't breathing. Hooks out the dentures, tips back the head, pinches the nose, blows into the mouth, presses the ribs. Counts. Waits. Out of the corner of his eye, sees the pompiers' boots. Rises to his feet. He can hear them thinking "Poncey Mr. Perfume". He mentally replies "Get back to your calendars".   Yeah.

Business and bleeping resume. Feet aching. Nose blocked. Too hot. Too bored. What time is it ? Tries to look at his watch without the supervisor noticing. A mate of his, hood up and cardboard cup in hand, stops to "hi-five" him.. Feels ashamed of his own stilted, whispered reply. The shoes pinch worse.   Yeah.

Closing time at last. Lights dimmed. last customers leave. He opens his locker. Takes out his anorak. More room on the tram now. He actually gets a seat. Some weirdos, though. Don't look at them. He closes his eyes. Prepares to face his complaining mother, his exhausted father, his pugnacious brothers and his frightened sisters.  Maybe someone will have a DVD...Maybe there's a game on TV.  Who knows?  And there'll still be his bed, won't there? And tomorrow is another day.   Yeah.
Author:  K.J.

*    *    *    *    *

                    Up, Up and Away 

Well, life certainly has changed!  I used to feel free as a bird, but that is no longer the case.  I miss the foliage and the openness of my native land, and the freedom to come and go as I please.  It is true that I have covered a lot of territory since I left, and now when I do fly, it is usually in commercial airliners, rather than on my own, but world travelers must often make sacrifices.  I am no longer free to choose my destinations.  I generally know when another move is coming, but I am not consulted, and someone else packs my bags.  I must admit that I enjoy being waited on and cared for, and I am glad that, wherever we live, my door is generally left unlocked, so I still have a slight degree of mobility.  My immediate entourage is not unpleasant, but I am a bit jealous about anyone else paying too much attention to the woman I love.  Just this morning her husband was working from home, on the computer in the room they use as an office.  Since the hall door was open, I just wandered down, slipped unnoticed into the office, and gave him a good nip on one of his toes.  It's not my fault that the customs of the country here require that shoes be left at the front door.  He definitely was not expecting my visit.  He let out a roar and kicked about wildly, and might in fact have hurt me if I hadn't hopped so quickly out of reach.  My beloved came running to find out what all the yelling was about, and brought me back to the sitting room.  I am once again installed amidst the bars, but the door has been closed.  It might be for my own protection.  Who knows what hubbie might do to me to retaliate, although I think he really knows that he would never be forgiven if he inflicted any harm upon me.  I don't try to nip the household helper; I do not consider her a threat to the relationship I have with my beloved.  The helper keeps her distance and although she cleans the rest of the house, my space is tended only by my beloved.  Although I draw the line at physical abuse of the helper, who is quiet and gentle, I don't mind giving her a little psychological tickle from time to time.  Although she does not speak English, she understands a few basic words.  I heard her asking my beloved why, when I'm sliding down from my living space to the sitting room floor, I murmur "up, up, up."  Little does she know that for years people have been trying to keep me in line by yelling "up, up, up" each time I try to take advantage of the opportunity to explore... or to look for a toe or two to nip.  Not only that, but she probably does not realize that, although I am quite capable of imitating a wide variety of sounds and words, the first letter of the word "down" is not in my repertory.  It looks like my freedom will be limited for the rest of the day.  Perhaps I'll take a nap.  Although we don't have running water or a telephone, we have recently purchased a satellite dish, so perhaps someone will turn on  the television this evening and I'll be able to whistle along with some of the programs.
Author:  M.P.