rocket stove cooking

I love my Rocket Stove.  I’d seen them here and there before, mainly home made affairs, cobbled together with old baked bean cans and old oil canisters and I’d had it in mind to build one of my own one day.  In Dorset I was caught with my guard down, at the Scythe Fair, where I saw a professionally forged, easily transportable, robust affair which I bought it without a second thought.  

How right I was.

Since getting back to France I use it most of the time for cooking meals, not just for myself but for four or five people at a time.  Mainly pot meals that require simmering for a while, but also fry ups and dishes that require a proper amount of heat.

Lighting it was tricky to start and then getting the burn temperature right.  I’ve since improved my wood drying technique and shan’t ever need to cut down another tree to cook with it.  It’s a joy to gather those fallen twigs and small branches and know that they have a serious role to play and also to be able to cook on free, easily gathered material at almost a moments notice.  I’ll need to be more prepared for when the weather turns and keep a good supply of well dried twigs available for cooking.

Thinking about how much wood I would use on a traditional fire, or the gas I would burn to achieve the same result is absurd.  A small bundle of kindling is enough to cook dinner and provide a nice cup of tea to wash it all down.  I’ll be heating my shower water with it soon and filling my hot water bottle with it when the nights get cold.  The gas stove will always be a welcome alternative for when the weather is foul, an oven is needed or speed is of the essence, but ongoing, my rocket stove cooking is becoming an integral part of my daily routine.  

The wheelbarrow in the photos is a makeshift wind deflector, self standing, easily positionable and has many other uses.  Ideal

dinner in the making

the twigs are burning within the metal tubing

a mini furnace

a near complete burn with no smoke and hardly any ash

MMMmmmmmm  lentil, tomato and nettle stew nearly done

an untended bounty

I had always imagined that a vegetable garden needed constant attention for it to thrive, so my spring efforts were somewhat of an experiment, knowing full well that I would be absent for a good three months at the start of the growing season.    I had diligently planted a whole array of seeds and seedlings before my departure, tucking them in with a good layer of mulch and through the wonders of modern technology, 3 minutes of water each morning through fifty meters or so of leaky hose.

From the cool of the UK I watched the weather maps as a heat wave passed overhead, temperatures frequently reaching the mid 30’s and several weeks without a drop of rain.  Would my tiny quantity of irrigation be adequate?  Had the sun fried everything to a crisp?  would the deer have found a bounty of tender shoots and ravaged everything in site?  I could only wait and see.

Prior to my return, the weather had broken and a series of storms had passed over the region giving everything (left?) a good dousing.  The weather continued to be warm, but the excessive heat had passed for the time being.

Wow, what a wonderful surprise.  I strimmed my way towards the vegetable beds, clearing the thigh length grass and weeds as I went, to be greeted by an a bountiful array.  There was a massive carpet of squash and pumpkin leaves reaching the length of the plot, numerous orange and red mounds protruding through the greenery.  Spires of swiss chard thrusting up through the weedy undergrowth, hints of beetroot leaves poking through - the tenderest, sweetest beetroot that I have tasted in an age, large as a fist and without a blemish in sight.  They had sheltered well under the weedy layer.  The french bean seeds had germinated, done their thing and plump pods of semi dried beans awaited harvest.  They will do well for soups and stews later on.  A second sowing followed immediately and are now flowering several weeks on.  The lettuce had thrived and produced great flower heads of fluffy seed that was caught and blown by the breeze, I’ll not have to sow lettuce again for a while I imagine.  Four tiny tomato seedlings, had decided to stay too, planted the size of a match stick and abandoned, I hadn’t imagined for a moment anything would come of them.  Left to their own devices, without support or training, they had spread wildly, crossing paths and scrambling through the current bushes.  Garlands of green tomatoes nestled in the foliage, here and there with the faintest hint of red.  Again, they have continued well, providing a bountiful crop for over a month, unfortunately recently hit by blight after a few wet weeks, the remaining crop has been immediately transformed into jars of chutney.

There are varieties that are missing in action.  No carrots, new zealand spinach or parsnips.  I imagine that they either didn’t germinate or got crowded out by the weeds.  Many seeds need frequent watering till they become established in a garden situation, others may have been discovered by the birds, slugs, snails or smothered by mulch.  

Now that the bulk of the weeds have been cleared.  More accurately I should say reduced, a few late starters are emerging.  Not surprising really as the dense weed layer was at least waist high in places.  Brassicas are taking up the challenge and forging ahead, I remember last year, they did very little till the cool of the autumn arrived, then forged ahead to produce admirable.  It looks as if we’re heading the same way this year.  Curly kale, savoy cabbage, hopefully brussel sprouts here we come.  I say hopefully, as my random line free planting doesn’t allow for easy labeling, so it’s a case of wait and see.

As the season progresses I keep sowing a few more seeds, tucking in a few more transplants of things for later on.  It’s a never ending process, cultivating food, harvests need to continue for as long a time as possible and with as much variety as can be achieved.  The variables are enormous so it’s always an exciting challenge.

When I find the lead to connect my camera I’ll post some photos and you’ll see the transformation over the last few months.  It’s great to be back to see what has been occurring in my absence.  

Elsewhere the weeds have grown and it almost looked like it did when I first bought the property.  This time, however, it’s quick strim to get the place back into some sort of order.  Those back breaking hours of bramble root chasing certainly paid off.  I’d certainly recommend taking the time to dig out that knobbly bit of root where all the bramble stems spring from, as opposed to just strimming the stems back, relentlessly for years and years.

Joy visited

My dear friend Joy has been to stay.  She booked a flight from the UK ages ago and I was slightly concerned that the weather wouldn’t be at it’s best during April.  Thankfully it was kind.  We saw days of warm sunshine, a bit of rain, the most amazing storm with thunder and lightening crashing right overhead that went on for most of the afternoon, missed snow, by a day, when we visited Pierre at Lou Rider, but mainly it was lovely.

Joy enjoying a spectacular sunset

snow on the mountains just before going through the tunnel to spain

through the tunnel to spain

Ainsa, on the warm sunny side of the mountains

 Joy’s visit was timely and gave me good reason to ease back into ‘full on’ working at a sedate pace.  We did plenty of touristy pottering about, visited markets and had long leisurely lunches found flattish places for strolls and discovered the opportunity for plenty of pauses for cappucino’s  or cups of tea.

I got to thinking how little of this I do when I am on my own, and how that must change.  Now that the project is coming up for a year in the making, the hard graft can be seen to be making a big difference.  The clearing that took months last year was brought back under control with an afternoon strimming.  A couple of hours weeding in the well mulched vegetable areas and it all looks clean and tidy.  I am smiling writing this, as the vision of ‘clean and tidy’ resembles little of what I would have imagined a few years ago.  

A deep layer of autumn leaves surrounds the wanted plants keeping annual weeds to a minimum, they protect the soil from heavy downpours and days of hot sun, regulating the soil from excessive temperature and humidity fluctuations, slowly decaying to provide food for the plants and soil organisms alike.  Meandering paths allow access to different areas of the plot, cut through swathes of fast growing natives.  Beautiful drifts of wildflowers are already bringing colour and interest for myself and the hosts of wildlife that keep themselves endlessly busy day by day.  My hours of bramble root digging look to have paid off in the most part, an occasional tour with the strimmer should knock back any determined shoots and, theoretically, in three or so years, the majority will have given up.  Other weeds are taking their place.  Buttercups are highly visible this spring, dandelions put on an impressive display and the docks are springing up here and there.  It’s going to look spectacular as summer unfolds.

still plenty of veggies fron last season

a good layer of mulch keeps the weeds down and the soil moist and friable underneath

My trays of seedlings are growing fast and will soon be ready for planting out.  Need to get some ‘friendly’ slug pellets, if there is such a thing, but I really would appreciate some of the vegetables reaching maturity and with the dampness about at present I fear or the little ones.  I’ll try a light liming of the raised beds too, though not too much as it may not go down too well with everything.  Perhaps half and half, to see if there is any difference.  Will keep you posted if I remember.

the seedlings travelled too!! 

raised beds and clearing

For the most part, the weather has been incredibly kind here for outdoor work.  The evenings stay lighter that the UK too, so the days are longer.  I can easily be outside till six now, before the light is too poor to carry on.

I attacked the large mound of soil that was left after the drive earthworks.  The guys left far more soil than I had anticipated and some is rather poor compared to the rest.  The poorer part I have started to spread about to flatten the ground off a bit and just to loose it.  The better soil is lovely, the raised beds have had a good fill, along with more leaves and leafmound, gathered from around the village, before a blanket of straw to keep them snug for the winter.

mounded topsoil for new raised bed

the piles of earth are getting smaller

clearing the ruin.  This is where my new house is going to be

raised bed complete with salvaged wood sides and leafmould mulch

As I start to clear the ruin, there is plenty more wood, old beams and the like, which are put directly to work retaining more raised beds.  It’d be a shame not to use the good topsoil for another year and I’m going to need plenty of space for sowing seeds if the new seed catalogues have anything to do with it this winter. Long dark evenings are ideal for increasing the workload later in the season, it’s what gardeners dreams are made of.  The difficulty is in limiting the varieties that need to be bought, so they all have to be useful in some way.  Either for me, or the birds, bees or insects or a combination of all the above.

from overhead

Annoyingly, most of the video footage we took is too long (large) to upload onto blogger and I don't have the software to edit it down.  So here are a selection of arial photos that show most of what we saw.

from the west, the dots are fruit trees that I planted in November, including some within the huge bramble
patch, the paths really stand out.  Over the road, the new drive, veggie plot with raised beds to the right of the drive.
Huge oak tree still with bronze leaf cover and the village of Vieuzos off to the left in the distance.

from the east

from the south east

right overhead, that's Me and Tom on the left by the chalet, my new wooden panel pathway and a
big store of lovely clay under the tarp.

there you/we are

tom's drone

A friend of Heathers, Tom, enthused about his recent new toy, a drone equipped with a camera, one afternoon whilst we were indulging in tea and cake.  It sounded fascinating.  

It's a little, remote controlled, battery powered helicopter with a range of several hundred metres and a top speed of around 30kmph with a still and video camera mounted on the undercarriage.  He didn’t take much encouraging and the following day returned with it and we spent a fascinating hour or so looking down on my plot from above.  Hopefully the videos upload and work as well as they do on my computer.  Here goes.

crisp christmas weather

Winter solstice, and the weather is beautiful.  Cold and crisp but warm enough to work in a T shirt in the sunshine, especially if there is something energetic to be getting on with.

It’s been raining loads, so the ground is rather wet to work unnecessarily, so I have been tempted to start clearing part of the ruin where my new house is going to be.  It’s the first time I’ve done any work on this area, as my priority has been the productive garden areas of the plot until now.  

I decided early on that it would be best to get a lot of long term planting done as soon as possible so that whilst building work is continuing, all the trees and shrubs can get on with growing.  Once the house is complete they will already be a decent size and hopefully the orchard will start to be productive.  All my fruit trees are happily settling in, along with thirty or so evergreen shrubs that I purchased to replace or bulk up the hedge to the windward side of the property.  The sooner there is a decent windbreak there the better.  I still have hedges to plant, but am waiting to clarify the boundaries with the neighbouring farmer before I go ahead and order the plants as I don’t want to get them in the wrong place.  Hopefully they’ll go in this season, if not next year will have to do.

newly planted fruit trees 

new raised beds (under construction)

the new drive, complete with planting, in the winter sun

no point clearing all the brambles!!!

they should grow well with this view I would have thought

So I started clearing the ruin, the safer part where the walls have already fallen.  The brambles went in a couple of hours but the next stage is going to take somewhat longer.  It’s fine, as I can’t get on with much else, there isn’t a rush to start building as the final permissions will be another three or four months in the processing and it’s great to have the opportunity to salvage as much as possible.

There are loads of whole roof tiles which I’ll add to the earlier collection.  Plenty of broken ones too which will make excellent sub base around the site when the time comes.  Hefty, solid timbers, ideal for garden structures or raised bed construction, more rotten bits for experimental projects (check out Hugelcultur, a method of vegetable cultivation that mounds soil over rotten timbers, the rotting wood releases nutrients, retains moisture and yet allows for a free draining soil.  With free materials on site, I thought I might make a couple of beds to see how it works).  Then there are all the unknown bits and pieces underneath the rubble.  Who knows what may be lurking below and by taking a bit of time, I’ll be more likely to find things in tact than if a bulldozer gets anywhere near the site.  Going on a treasure hunt.

It’s great to be working now, during the shortest days, to see how the light works its way round the plot and where the sunny and shaded areas are.  The sun is at it’s lowest in the sky and, whilst it’s strength is weak, it is of the most benefit for passively heating the inside of buildings during the cold winter months.  I checked this out and am very pleased to see that my kitchen and bathroom windows get sunshine all afternoon and till just after five in the evening, almost to sunset, maximising the effect of those warming rays.  The house won’t roast in summer because the windows become shaded by a balcony when the sun is higher in the sky.  If that isn’t enough, some climbing plants will soon be planted to give a little extra shade.

this bit of old wall is where my new kitchen window will be, it's 15:55 on 21/12/14  sunny till the end

exploring in the remains of a barn

Percy in the evening light with new 'keep clean' walkway to the chalet

just a little clearing to do

I’ll post some sketches and plans of the house right soon, so that you can all have a good look, ask questions, make suggestions and generally give it a good going over to see that it all makes sense.  I’ve been living imaginarily inside it for some time, yet still find details that don’t work and improvements that can be easily added at this stage of the proceedings.  Hopefully my next post, I just need to get some paperwork from on site.

it's caught on here too!!

to you all

So, that’s it for now.  A slightly belated Christmas to you all, I write on Boxing Day (Dec 26th) and with the sun shining am heading right back out there to carry on.  Best wishes and much love.  xxxxx

bramble clearing

I filled my time doing less technical tasks, like preparing the holes for the twenty or so fruit trees that I had on order.  Some were in fairly short grass, so relatively easy, others directly through landscape fabric, so not a problem, though several, for the sake of getting it right first time, were destined to be in the thick of a bramble thicket.

The thicket didn’t look too daunting when I approached it with my metal bladed strimmer.  It cuts through bramble stems like butter and the shredded plant matter creates a thick, woody, hopefully weed suppressant mulch.  Well worth the investment.  Several minutes later the task begun to morph into something larger, half an hour in, the brambles all around me were over head height and taking a whole load of work to cut into pieces.  

I persevered, doing a couple of hours at a time, whilst feeling rough with cold, then as I improved half a day or so at a time.  A good couple of days total work and I now have an impressive warren of tracks and clearings through the bramble thicket.  Several areas of freshly turned, root free soil with piles of compost await the arrival of the trees.

mini digging

Tomorrow has come and gone for nearly a month ( I change the blog dates so that they are just about accurate to when things happen) and I have a quick chance, once again, to catch up on blogging.

Simon and I have just spent two days playing with a mini digger, day 1, heavy rain showers and blustery rain, proper November weather, but we got on with the task in hand anyway.  You really can’t sit around, especially when there is a machine on hire that is costing a small fortune every day.

Day 2, as if summer was back, well nearly, blue skies and warm sunshine, just the ticket to lay pipes and backfill as many of the trenches as possible whilst the machine was with us.

We got just about everything finished, save all the joints and construction of an inspection chamber for the isolation valves which will go near the water meter.  The system is devised so that the garden sections can be turned off during the winter to lessen the chance of frozen pipes, whilst the (future) house and chalet can be supplied or isolated as necessary.  

At the same time we installed a pipe to transfer saved rainwater from the chalet to the garden, saving countless trips with a watering can or strimmed surface pipes hidden in the undergrowth in later years.  

Whilst digging it seemed sensible to lay a conduit for a phone line, directly to the chalet with the possibility of branching off towards the house when needed.  

The place is a bit of a mess superficially, but it’ll soon grow back and hopefully it’s the final time that this area of the property will need to be disturbed in such a manner.  The big disruption and earthworks is yet to come.......... next year with any luck.

trenching to the garden for water and phone cables

Add caption

the mini digger makes quick work of it

refilled as far as we could go

water to the door.  Thankfully the trench is now filled in

 I continue a month later with this same post........

And then I was hit by a virulent head cold.  A week after all the digging, I attempted to continue with the water works, feeling somewhat groggy in the head.  The first task was to dig out space for an inspection chamber near the water meter.  Easy I thought, ten minutes with a spade and it’ll be done.  Two minutes later with water spraying everywhere, I manage to slice through the last remaining length of active pipe much closer to the meter than I had planned.  Thankfully the water was easy to turn off.

Minutes later, whilst attempting to continue with the same task, I break the concrete surround by hitting it with said same spade.  Bad head, slight mal co-ordination, it’s obviously not the ideal time to be attempting even vaguely technical work.  I have a cup of tea and write myself a large note that has stayed on the table for nearly three weeks.  DO NOT ATTEMPT TECHNICAL TASKS UNTIL YOU’R HEAD IS BACK TO NORMAL. YOU’LL ONLY BREAK THINGS OR MUCK IT UP.

I listened to my advice and am still in the throws of finishing the last of the technical part of this task now, in mid December.  It’s been interesting even with a clear head and fully functioning brain.  Missing parts, difficult, drippy joints that needed redoing several times, cold, uncooperative pipework, all add to the challenge.  A good job done, something that will (should) last the duration, without having to be revisited during later stages of the build.

about one year since I discovered my plot and nothing much has changed to the buildings

well, let's have a look

The last task I did with Peter and Dad before dropping them at the airport  was to open the well for the first time, just to see what it was all about.  The top was enormously heavy, I was glad to have waited for help, there was no blast of icy air or calls for help from below, just a dark hole.  As we peered into the darkness a tiny circle of light appeared way down below us. it was the reflection of light on the water, miles away.  I fetched a tin cup and lowered it down on my thirty metre tape, hoping to be able to capture a drop or two of water.  The tape unrolled and unrolled till nearly the end, I checked to see that it was well attached to the reel as I didn’t fancy loosing it, then carried on letting out more.  Eventually it stopped and the sound of mug hitting water echoed up the eery darkness to our expectant ears.  Twenty nine metres and seventy centimetres to the water.  I had no more tape to go deeper so we brought the cup to the surface to see what we had caught.  Just a little water, crystal clear and without odor.  Dad and I tasted it and decided it was fine.  I will, of course, get it tested before I drink any quantity, but it was good to see and know this much.  Time was pressing on, so we closed the top without further investigation and headed off to the airport.

is that a look of surprise or.......

MMmmm, that looks deep

29.7m to the surface of the water.  That's gonna need some pump.

one solid well cover

visitors

It all worked out rather well.  For sleeping arrangements Dad took the bed in the tent, Peter joined me in Percy.  I continued with my meals as planned to compliments from all sides, I quite surprised myself with how tasty and interesting some of the meals were, my exploration of sprouted seeds was in full swing and the garden had started to provide quite bountifully.  Cucumbers, courgettes, green and yellow beans, spinach, swiss chard, the occasional beetroot leaves, lettuce, nasturtium leaves and flowers, even a few tomatoes - despite the blight, all made their way to the table.  A few plums remained on one of the trees after a ferocious storm and a neighbour kindly offered me a bag of Mirabelle, a tiny plum like fruit the size of a cherry, sweet and juicy, we ate them whole, spitting the tiny stones out wherever.  Perhaps I should have planted them, maybe next year when life is a little more organised.

I supplemented garden supplies with frequent trips to the local markets, a good opportunity to get out and about to see the surroundings and show off the area that I have decided to make my home for the forseeable future.  Both were suitable impressed even though the weather was unseasonable cold and cloudy.  The old folk of the village can’t recall a summer so cold or wet in living memory, usually by now the fields and lawns are parched and brown and the gardens watered every day.  I haven’t touched my hosepipe in over three weeks and the countryside is as lush and green as Devon or west Wales would be at this time of year.  

My guests and I experienced an impressive storm one night.  The wind howled, the rain came lashing down, the trees thrashing about and the van rocking violently for several hours.  Life in the tent was reportedly noisy to say the least with rain, twigs and leaves falling on the canvas and the wind billowing and buffeting the structure.  In the morning Dad emerged from his internal cocoon unscathed, the weather calmed and we continued none the worse.  Two neighbours appeared during the morning, concerned that we had been blown away and offering alternative accommodation should it be required.

surprise visit

I arrived at Toulouse early to do some shopping and do a bit of scavanging.  I needed pallets to sort the wood for the new build onto and to keep it dry whilst it was being built.  I was lucky and fair filled the van with nearly as many as I could, something stopped me from filling the back completely, though I was close to doing so.  I reached the airport to collect Peter in good time, the plane was slightly delayed, so I had time to park up and go inside to meet him.  He was waiting for his luggage and suggested that he catch up with me in the car park so as to minimise the time that I waited.  As he was arranging his luggage in the back of the van I prepared to head off, conscious that I was in a limited parking zone and every minute counted.  As he started to close the door, a voice asked “Room for another one?”  I swung round to see who it was, half recognising the voice, to see my Dad standing there with a big grin on his face.  Momentarily I was mortified.  How was it going to work?  Where was he going to sleep?  How was he going to cope with my minimal lifestyle?  (No electricity, no hot water, no proper toilet, no real facilities?) I was stressed enough as it was with the preparations for receiving my brother, let alone an 85 year old.  I forced the practicalities and logistics out of my mind and focussed on the fact that my father was there, completely unannounced and it was wonderful to see him.  I had planned to be a bit further on before he visited, but from that moment I had no choice, he was there and was coming with us.  I was dumbstruck as we left the airport, trying to make conversation, whilst my mind raced on what changes I would have to make and wondering how the next ten days were to pan out. My neighbours had offered a room. There was a B & B just down the road, I wondered if they had a room and how much it would cost.  What would my Dad do every day?  Would I have chance to really spend time with my brother?  Would he be comfortable? warm enough? cool enough? How would my alternative (nearing vegan) diet be appreciated? Would he manage with the terrain? Could we still manage the trips I had planned?  My mind whirred with a thousand questions whilst on the surface I tried to chat about the journey, how the flight was, and what had been going on since we had last spoken.

Peter sat in the back, almost squashed by pallets, relishing every moment.  I had surprised him several times in the past with unannounced visits and this was payback time.  There he was, in view via the rear view mirror, watching as I came to terms with this new arrangement finding it all rather amusing.  I negotiated the urban motorway system out of Toulouse without fault, my mind going nineteen to the dozen, pointing out things that might be interesting, trying to plan ahead, deciding what to do.  We journeyed back to Vieuzos stopping en route to do a bit of last minute shopping, disappointingly there was no view of the mountains, just a band of hazy cloud in the distance.  They had no idea how spectacular that view could be.  Something they would hopefully discover on a clearer day.

better prepared

Nearly three weeks in the UK and I haven’t thought of blogging.  It’s been a busy visit what with visits to the dentist and opticians for me, a service, MOT, welding work, wheel alignment new windscreen and failed attempt for new music system for Percy, it all takes time and is absolutely necessary.

Those were the obligatory chores, the fun times were spending most of the time with friends and family, catching up with folk that I haven’t seen for years, swapping stories, good food and wine and generally being with the people that I love and that matter to me in the UK.  I never get to see everyone, there just isn’t time but I try to ring the changes and make the most of every visit.  

It’s never really a time that I think of blogging, not intentionally, it’s just how it is.  It’s time being ‘at home’ even though I flit from place to place and am never static for that long.  Perhaps that will change now that I have a longer term project on the go.  My trips back to the UK being more like travel and the periods in my new home being more settled.  That’ll take time to come true whatever as there is a massive journey to undertake on that plot of land without going anywhere.

I am more prepared, now that I am on my way back to france.  Percy arrived back with empty cupboards, feeling lighter than he had done since we set off over a year ago, most of his load stored in a neighbours barn whilst we are away.  During the last few days I have emptied all my possessions from Dad’s garage, thoroughly sorted them and chosen those items that I think shall be the most useful.  Tools and equipment, tents and camping furniture, books from the loft and bedding for guests, my own strimmer for cutting down the weeds and a hammock for lounging under the big oak tree when it’s too hot in the heat of the day.  

Poor Percy is fuller with things that I have ever seen, hopefully not excessively, he is a transit van after all, but the journey back to Vieuzos will be quicker and more direct.  I’ll be on a mission to get there, with a mission to continue once I arrive.  I may be gone from these pages for a while, until I get power and a phone line, not that on the odd occasion I won’t think to use the internet cafe up the road or a visit to friends and have a sneaky ten minutes on line.  

another sort of garden

As I neared Calais, my route passed through war country, the old battlefield zone of World Wars I and II.  Here my gardens changed somewhat, to gardens of remembrance.  I hadn’t planned to stop and visit such important monuments this trip and certainly wasn’t prepared for the impact they had.

Tears welled in my eyes when I caught sight of the headstones.  I sat on the steps and cried and cried before walking the gardens, tears arriving again and again.  I was amazed by the force of emotion as I thought that I had been prepared for what I was about to see.  Thousands of headstones in neat rows of light grey stone.  Each one a dead soldier, or as I was to discover as I read some of the inscriptions later on, sometimes up to four soldiers per grave.  All men, nearly all young, in their teens and twenties, sent to war,  as far as we are told, for the greater good of the western world.  

I had learned of the wars at school and then frequently through day to day life, as I imagine we all do.  The book ‘Birdsong’ graphically illustrated the brutality, futility and carnage of the First World War in graphic detail.  A captivating and moving book that I unfortunately took to read on holiday, it kept me in a sombre mood for the duration of the read and has left lasting impressions of how dire the war was for everyone involved.

Both cemeteries that I visited were relatively small compared to some of the war memorials of Normandy, but overwhelming none the less.  When the war machine was murdering thousands upon thousands of men a day at times it is hard to imagine the numbers.  Here, the sheer scale of loss becomes imaginable, very real and close.  These were only the British dead too, there must be millions of French, returned to their home towns and villages, where possible, to rest in peace plus those of the German armies, also repatriated and laid to rest for their loved ones to remember. I know nothing of the plight of the German dead, whose numbers were colossal too.

It moves me now, close to tears, just writing this piece and thinking of the loss.  Look at the photos, for every stone a son, a brother, a nephew, a father, a friend.  Loved by all who knew them and never seen again.  Just gone, a hole in a family, a missing member of a team, a best friend gone for ever, imagine that, for each and every stone, here and then again for all the other cemeteries and in towns and villages across europe and, in fact, most countries of the world.

It leads me to think of the cost of war? the impact on our families and societies? the loss of kindred folk, of natural human resources, of the destruction of trust and hatred that it brings.  Who are we as a supposedly clever, logical and highly evolved species to bring this on ourselves again and again?  We obviously aren’t yet capable of finding peaceful solutions as wars continue with alarming frequency and ferocity around our planet.  I have no solutions, it just leads me to think.......

Etaples Military Cemetery

about a quarter of the graves

in perfect symmetry

Terlincthun British Cemetery

not even a name between the four brave souls who rest here

a smaller site but just as moving