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A broad

by MarkDiac |

I have been thinking about moving abroad. As opposed to moving a broad. That’s the sort of thing Humphrey Bogart might say.

There used to be a picture of Humphrey Bogart in the window of the barbers nearest to the pub that I spent much of my A levels (sorry, A level) and the next couple of years after in. One of those ‘look who doesn’t get their hair cut here, but we’ll try and infer somehow that he does, even though you and I both know he lives in America rather than East Devon’ photos. I convinced a friend that Humphrey Bogart had been born in the flat above the barber’s, hence the photo, and that his real name before hitting the bright lights of Hollywood was Humpty Gokart. I also managed to convince him that Evel Knievel’s brother, Good Knievel, would be down on the seafront jumping over 100 motorcycles in a double decker bus the coming weekend.

But yes, I’ve been thinking of moving abroad. This year, it has finally occurred to me that as we slip into the last week of April and finally enjoy the first occasional random days of sunshine that at best, we can hope for four and a half months of reasonable weather. Don’t get all Billy Connolly on me about good weather and the wrong clothes: that’s arsewipe. I’m no sunworshipper but some light and the odd bit of warmth is very welcome.  Four and a half months out of 12 is not so good, especially if the shoulders of the loveliness are sludgy and grey rather than zingy and bright at one end and autumnal and appeasing at the other.

You’ll notice the web address for this blog still says ‘co.uk’. I have yet to shift to that point in France where the roofs (or is it still ‘rooves’) start to turn orange. On the surface, the main reasons for this are that I have no money and my French is enthusiastic yet poor. Underneath it I suspect that, like most people, I have failed to get to grips with that most basic notion that I am temporary. Were I to believe the startlingly obvious rather than see a drift of days (similar to this but gently tweaked in my favour) ahead of me I would move to the centre of the Venn diagram that had circles of A Long Hot (But Not Too Hot) Summer; Within 20 Minutes of the Sea; An Acre or Two; In A Hamlet, Near a Village, Near A Town, Near a City; With A Peach Tree; Where I Can Work Less To Get By.

And then the sun comes out, the blossom opens, there’s scent in the air and I forget it all. I forget that at best there are 135 days like this out of every 365. I’m here and happy. Everything is perfect. It’s working again: things grow. I am, it appears, unconvinced of my mortality. I am still here.

If you give a monkey’s, the blossom is of:
Louise Bonne of Jersey pear
Salmonberry
Nanking cherry
Morello cherry

  • I’m a sucker for the Peter Mayle genre of books, where a Brit ups-sticks & moves abroad to hand out superior British largesse to the quaint locals. What struck me after having read of a few, was that the idyllic is seemingly not ideal since a fair few of the authors up-up-sticks and return back to the UK. Perhaps you have just avoided the costly middle bit.

    • You know, I may just’ve saved myself a packet as you so rightly point out. I was SO looking forward to pointing at the artichokes and overmouthing the words ‘TREZ ARTICHOKEY PER VOUS PLAY’ though

    • EVERYONE knows that! Well, that he’s from Bristol, not necessarily that he went to your kids school. Real names is Archie Chokes (three for a pahnd), apparently. Very topical you should mentio that, as I watched To Catch A Thief on my way back from London on the train the other day. It may be the pinnacle of our species’ endeavours that a coarse bumpkin can think of a film in the afternoon, download it to a small device during a meeting and then watch it on the train home

  • I used to live in Germany and also Italy for a time. My Italian was so bad that if I got stuck I reverted to German. Which worked in the North of Italy but baffled them in the south. Still I like to think I did something for Italian/German relations… Even if it was just that the Italians thought, “Another one of those stupid Germans who hasn’t managed to learn more than Une Biere or quattro stagioni”.
    The thing about living abroad is that they don’t have proper pubs. I’m not a big pub goer, but I somehow missed sitting by the open fire in the winter drinking a pint of Old Peculiar.
    I once saw a program about a woman who gardened on North Island NZ, she said that the growing season lasted all year. That does appeal. but NZ is a long way from everywhere….
    After last years weather my wife threatened that we are off to the south of France. but at the moment we are tied to where we are because she is writing a book.
    I love the photos BTW, I especially love the blurry backgrounds what kit are you using? We have your old friend Jason Ingram in doing the photos for the book, and he is also a master at those too.

    • I LOVE the idea of a wintery pub, the fire and a pint of Old Wifebeater or whatever…but so rarely find a good one. And Im deeply unsociable. And the camera is a Nikon D3s. The blurry business anything will do if you can step the aperture down to a low number (eg f2.8). Thanks, glad you like the pics

  • I think Engelbert Humperdinck lived above the barber’s in Knotty Ash I went to as a kid. Unfortunately for Engelbert Ken Dodd was – still is – the King of Knotty Ash. Engelbert never left his flat for fear of the tickling stick-armed Diddy Men. Or so they say.

    Think on this, where will I get my seeds from if you go abroad?!

    To Catch A Thief isn’t considered Hitch’s best is it, yet it’s the one I can watch time and again.

    • I shall do the seeds/plants from the nursery even while I slink about on the riveira a la Cary Grant, fear not.

  • You nailed it. I was *so* with you….though heading transatlantically……but then the sun comes out and <<<<< thanks Mark. it's also fun to know what your voice and inflections sound like as I read your posts, you are a great humourist. May the sun shine your way. Imen xx

  • Very well said! I lived in the south of France when I was a student. And then Australia. And I bloody came back from both. What an idiot.

  • When I was a teenager my brother told me that Joe Cocker had moved to a house down the road from us. A totally pointless lie which I vaguely believed simply because it was so pointless. I was better fooled the time he said “Let’s check our premium bonds” handing me a list of numbers which I compared with the winning ones in the newspaper. Guess what? One of mine had one top prize. I was so excited until I saw the malicious grin on the idiot brothers face.

    Our 5 year plan was to move to France, then 10 years then it didn’t happen. But if you don’t have a dream how you gonna have a dream come true?

    • Ha ha…I do love a pointless lie. Joyous. I have friends who moved to a beautiful part of France a few years ago…in their early 60s now…and their haunting words of ‘why didnt we just do it when we thought of it, when we were young’ sit in my ears. Still, sun’s out….this is the best place in the world, right?!

  • Having lived somewhere with weather that was sunny for 9 months of the year, unbearably hot and sticky for the other three, there is something to be said for the UK’s seasons: the first day you can wear sandals and T-shirts is an exciting moment that you don’t have without that cycle of despair turning to hope turning to happiness. Today, with both my pear and plum trees bursting into bloom, there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be than my garden: sadly, I am in an office in London…

    • I DO love the seasons too….but we’re in 9 months of winter a year at the moment! But yes, a bit of blossom and a t shirt go a long long way to happiness-making

  • Hello mark, fab piece as always – me and hub just pulled up at our nursery in the pouring rain this morning and said, “right that’s it then, once the youngest leaves school we’re going back to live there again” ‘fraid the continuing low light levels and stretchy winter have clinched it – lodeve (languedoc-roussillon) here we come 🙂 *albeit in 8 yrs time*

  • Thanks for posting lovely photos today!! We thought about moving to NZ some years ago, but with the unstable job market and not enough cash in the bank account to get an investor’s visa we got stuck here. Often wonder if we shouldn’t just have taken the plunge. I still write “rooves”, but maybe I’m just an old fuddy-duddy.

  • On our allotment site all the blossom is out and it looks wonderful. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else – except maybe New England in autumn (the fall) doing a spot of leaf peeping.

    Also – I’ve fallen in love with your Nanking cherry – I’ve done a frantic search of your shop and most of the internet (not all of it – obviously) and can’t find one for sale. Where can I get one from?

    • You couldn’t appreciate lovely weather as much if we always had good Springs & Summers; you wouldn’t love life so much if you (and everyone you love) were immortal. Philosophical hippy crap maybe, but true. To take another (?male) view, our unpredictable weather makes growing more of a challenge~ earlier, bigger, better than your mates, last year, etc.
      Beer’s better in England too…

  • You hit the nail on the head Mark! Every winter I think of moving a few hundred miles south (in Dorset, you can’t get much further south in the UK), and every April I come to life all over again – late in April this year. However, I can’t take my garden with me, and I am not going anywhere until I have picked some of my own sweet chestnuts, walnuts and mulberries! I am, however, considering putting a glass roof over my garden, and installing a big artificial sun …

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