Powerwolf - First blood.

Photo by Powerwolf

I am by no means a metal head - that title goes to my DH.  Despite my (very) eclectric taste in music, metal does not really feature heavily (ha ha)  in my listening habits, I like some Metallica and  I'm not ashamed of my "Best of Guns and Roses" playlist but it's really only the more main stream stuff.  So when I heard, and enjoyed,  my first Powerwolf song - Sanctified with Dynamite (introduced to me by my husband in his car as "our childrens' current favourite song" - they are also becoming metal heads) I imagined that it was also going to be a one off.  It wasn't.  I listened to more and bought the albums, watched their videos and began that strange behaviour that seems to be common to actual metal fans, that is hankering after a T-shirt.

So, my little innocents, who is this Powerwolf of whom I speak?  Well they are said to be a power metal group and they are from Germany where they have had considerable success, which has then spread across Europe and they are not unheard of on the other side of the Atlantic either.  All of which means that I was not hopeful of ever being able to actually go to one of their concerts (or metal masses as they would have them).  So imagine my surprise when, after an evening youtube surfing, I idly googled "Powerwolf concert" and discoverd, bizarrely that they would be touring Europe and would be playing in Clermont!!!!!!!!!  An hour away ! This is a group who are playing in Moscow, Paris and Berlin ! and apparently Clermont? Wait, now hang on, what's that date?  Oh a Saturday, and my wedding anniversary?! Fate had decided, tickets were reserved. I was about to go to my first metal concert.

I honestly don't think that I have ever been more excited or nervous about a concert, I'm not sure who was more nervous, me, that I would disgrace myself by fainting at the feet of these gods, or DH, that I would disgrace him by my none metal behaviour (I did keep winding him up asking him if we should applaud when the conductor came on stage and the like....) .  The day dawned and then, finally, the sun set and we were off, waving goodbye to resentful children who thought that they should be allowed to come too.

Upon arrival it appeared that I had not misjudged the dress code and we were confronted with a sea of black.  I was reassured that this was not going to be a heavy heavy metal concert by the presence of a large number of girls in the queue and the occasional glimpse of a Nightwish T-shirt (I even saw a Nirvana one...) and I was in agonies of jealousy when I spotted a girl with blue hair and corpse paint, (work obligations dictate that hair must only be dyed natural colours, I will therefore have to retire before my blue hair dream is realised.)

Alright alright, I'm getting there.  The concert at last.  Oh no, hang on, first was the merch stand and I got my T-shirt at last and compensation patches for the waiting children back home.  Right the concert itself;  the coopérative de mai in Clermont is not a huge venue so despite protestations from the other half I managed to quickly wriggle myself to the very front of the stage so that there would be only one person and an security guard between me and my heros.  Yes, yes, I know, you proper metal music maniacs, the correct place to stand is not up against the stage, that is not where the sound is best etc etc, but honestly as a place to be able to see how adeptly my gods handled their instruments and to admire their perfect fingering I was ideally positioned, I mean I could read their tattoos.

I felt rather an imposter during Serenity and Battle Beast who were on before the wolves (and very good they were too, I actually really enjoyed Serenity who I had obviously never heard of) as everyone was waving their metal horns around and doing much stamping and yelling but when Powerwolf made it on stage I forgot that I am not a member of this metal club and went mental with the rest of them.

 Obviously they were brilliant.  They played all of my favourites and musically they so didn't disappoint.  I sang along, proud to know the lyrics to such classics as "Reserrection by Erection" (it makes me laugh) and "Werewolves of Armenia" (I could already count to four in German but now my Latin is coming on a treat too with the old Cantus Lupus).  It was so much FUN, there was so much action and interaction and Attila sang so beautifully and the wolves played and howled so passionatly.  I nearly cried when all was over and tried so hard to get DH to stay until their bus left just in case I might catch another glimpse of them, but to no avail.

So there, my first metal concert was fabulous.  Does this mean I will delve deeper and become a metal head and aficiando of the genre?  Probably not.  I don't do growly or shouty vocals, I don't get mosh pits and despite listening to other bands (DH's a fan remember) I'm just not that keen on the general sound.  I need lyrics sung by powerful voices, screaming well played guitars and well constructed melodies and themes, all of which Powerwolf deliver with the added bonuses of latin vocals, church organ sections, and vampire/werewolf themes.  They wear makeup and don't take themselves too seriously.  Come on, what's not to love?

Will I be off to another Powerwolf metal mass?  You betcha, I need another T-shirt!

Photo belonging to Powerwolf

Powerwolf is;
  Attila Dorn
  Matthew Greywolf (who was poorly but luckily Markus Pohl played in his place, poor Matthew get well soon)

  Charles Greywolf
  Roel van Helden
  Falk Maria Schlegel

Setlist

1. Blessed & Possessed
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2. Coleus Sanctus
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3. Amen & Attack
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4. Sacred & Wild
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5. Army of the Night
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6. Resurrection by Erection
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7. Armata Strigoi
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8. Dead Until Dark
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9. Let There Be Night
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10. Werewolves of Armenia
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11. Saturday Satan
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12. In the Name of God (Deus Vult)
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13. We Drink Your Blood
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14. Lupus Dei
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15. Encore:
16. Sanctified With Dynamite
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17. Kreuzfeuer
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18. All We Need Is Blood

It's beginning to feel a bit like autumn.

Driving home through the park the other day I saw the leaves on the horse chestnuts were beginning to colour and fall, but then they are always early turners.  Then some adverts came through the door featuring new pens, tracksuits, books and schoolbags.  Ah well, I thought, they are getting a bit ahead of themselves it's still midsummer really.  And then I woke up to lashing rain, a gale blowing, the beginning of the last week of the holidays and the realisation  that autumn is barging its way into the end of summer.

When the storm abated and we were left with a quickly chagable sky and that swirly wind that has just a hint of an autumn sting we donned raincaots and gumboots and ventured off down a track that we had never tested before.  There was a reason for this, firstly we had been told "it just goes to the fields" secondly it is not adapted for pushchair wheels  - and thirdly I needed to wait until all the family's little legs had grown into bigger legs to go adventuring down strange tracks! This has all meant 10 years of driving past the track never knowing that although it does just go to the fields it also goes there for a long way through beautiful coutryside.  We cycled through puddles, past boulders, through ferns, over a stone bridge and through  a wood.  It also had the biggest juiciest blackberries that we have found.  We ate many and collected more and then thoroughly mud-stained and hands and faces smeared a deep purple we returned just before the storm attacked again.  

The afternoon was spent making pear and blackberry jam (from this marvellous recipe here. )  then ordering in the wood for the fire and the hay for the donkpon.  I have decided to embrace my favourite season even though it appears to be muscelling in on my summer a little early this year.

Little Drummer Bag

A bit of a niche post this one but never mind.  Today was a sorting, mending, making day.  And having sorted the kids clothes, mended the favourites that still fit, I decided that the making part could now be done with a pair of holed jeans.  I shall explain myself I little better.  M is an aspiring drummer, no sorry, percussionist.  As such she has weekly lessons and my study has now become a percussion room.  Her drumsticks are "tidied" on top of her drum (from where they roll off onto the floor) and carried to music poking out of her bag.  So I decided to make her a proper bag for them.  This is a project that I have had in mind for a while now but hey, I only just made the time.  So here, without further ado, is the little drummer's bag.  Tah dah!!


It is obviously super easy to make.  I cut the leg off the pair of jeans just under the pocket - the pocket which I carefully unpicked and put aside to make the flap.  Then I sewed up across the bottom of the leg and voila a basic bag.  The top of the bag was rolled over on itself as a hem and a long strap added before I stitched it down.The jeans had originally been fastened with a popper button which made things easy as I chopped both parts off the waistband, the bottom popper was sewn under the hem and the top popper just under the pointy end of the pocket that I had so carefully unpicked.  I poppered the poppers together and folded the pocket over the opening of the bag and marked then sewed where it came to - which made the opening flap!  Very good but very blue - so I addd a pink ribbon trim round the pocket and a little butterfly to girl it up.



 Honestly it's so fab I want to play the drums!  The sticks hang from the music stand in this bag and the bag slings over the girl as she heads out to her bashing lesson.  Apparently sized 5 years old jeans are long enough for drumsticks!   Longer jeans might have been better as you could cut them off further down and avoid the leg tapering outwards but we've not reached that age yet in holey jeans.   These pictures probably explain it better that I have but ask me any questions if you don't understand anything! Like I said it's niche - probably wouldn't appeal much to an aspiriing heavy metal boy drummer, or leave off the butterfly ;-)

2CV Road trip (part II)

So where were we?  Oh yes, I had decided that the very thing our 10 year anniversary needed was a weekend away in my 2CV.

So bright and early Saturday morning we arose, waved off the children, packed the picnic hamper and startled a traquil neighbourhood with the cough, splutter and rattle that so defines a 2CV engine.  We were off.

In front of Evaux abbey.

Our first stop was a short hop from home.  We went to the spa town of Evaux les Bains, it has an amazing abbey that we like wandering round.  As we drove up we discovered that we weren't the only road trippers there that day as a rally of jaguars, porsches, and other expensive old cars we following us.  Proudly we discovered that my little car made more noise than any of them.

After a coffee in the appropriatly named 'Ralley" bistro we began thinking about lunch.  The plan had been to stop by some waterfalls but when we neared the (very narrow and winding) track that led to them we saw that someone had put up a warning sign that they were shooting with live rounds.  I was all for going on anyway as it is a public right of way and they had no right to stop us and so on, but husband pointed out that it would be awfully difficult to convince anybody that after they shot us.  So we left. Now we were off the plan we needed to find a picnic spot without google.  Or Satnav.  Or any kind of mobile phone network.   We decided to go old school and follow signs.  We had seen a sign telling us that there was a chapel to visit.  But we ignored it.  At another cross roads another sign insisted that the chapel could be visited by taking that road too.  We wanted our picnic not a chapel.  We perisited in ignoring the sign.  At the third turn off the road looked a little wider and once more there was a sign informing us that the chapel would be reached from this turn also.  It was obviously fate telling us that we must visit this chapel and that there we would find a heavenly picnic spot.  We wound round tiny corners.  Drove through farm yards and avoided dogs.  And there was the chapel.

The sun fell through the stained glass windows like a beam from heaven and the silence was broken by a host of angels.  Is what I would have liked to write.  It didn't happen.  The chapel was shut.
Luckily Chérérailles just down the road was more capable of offering us a beautiful picnic spot with lake, forest and not another soul in the world.

After dinner in need of culture to go with nature we stopped at Moutier d'Ahun.  A tiny village but with the most amazing wooden sculptures.  These statues were scultped between 1673 and 1681 and they are truly breathtaking.  It's a tiny village and only a small portion of the monastry is left BUT the wood carvings have survived and in such a small place they are incredible.

We spent the night at Peyrat le Chateau overlooking the lake and awoke to this view from our bedroom window.  It was a Sunday and we were in the Creuse so we were not going to be shopping today.  It was time to see the best that Creuse has to offer, prettyness, wateralls, nature, stone bridges and all that jazz.  We drove and walked and climbed and admired, and picniced.  Obviously.  Here are a few of the pictures but they don't do it justice.  

Our last stop was the village of Masgot where the local stonemason went crazy in the 19th century and decorated all the village (and his vegetable garden) with stone stautes.  It was dinner time when we arrived and the place was deserted.  We had the village to ourselves.  It is more of a hamlet and surrounded by a forest  - but not a dark dense forest, more like fields of trees and pathways leading into it from all over the village.  It was very peaceful and easy to slip back a few centuries.

So there you go.  We made it. And enjoyed it!  I am looking forward to the next one and in the meantime I have my other "deux chevaux" to keep me busy.

Road Trip part one. Are we going?

How long is it since I last updated the blog?  Oh? That long?  Well, how long is it that we have been married?  WHAT?  10 years?! No?!  Yes actually I worked it out on my fingers and everything.  So ten years of marriage, house renovated, offspring produced and growing and animals happily installed but we had never actually been away without the children.  It was time for a weekend just for us.

A famous earlier outing was when she was my wedding car.

The first problem was what to do with a weekend, I mean we are pretty childish in our tastes (give us theme parks, caves and seaside castles and we're happy) but it seemed a bit pointless (and unfair) to do kiddy things without the kiddies.  Not being ones for golf and spa holidays or swanky hotels with pools, adult holidays seemed a boring option too.  Romantic rural retreat? We live in one.  Paris? meh, been there and not really fussed. Then, to my husband's horror, inspiration struck.  My pride and joy, my impractical, my lovingly decorated 2CV is the one thing I can't do with the children.   Love my car as I do, I have to admit that it is far from being the safest vehicle on the road and that, added to a lack of decent rear seatbelts and the impossibility of using child seats,  has led me to ban my children from travelling in "ma belle".  So to celebrate the newly roadworthyness of my car we (I) thought that a road trip would be an ideal way to celebrate our anniversary - we would return either loved up and ready to embark on another ten years, or divorced.

Problem two, where to go.  Many criteria now had to be met for this trip.  Firstly - a maximum distance of no more than two hours drive (in a normal car), this was in case of break downs, father-in-law would be able to fetch us back easily - she has never been known to let us down BUT we hadn't been far in her for quite a few years.  Seondly, no mountains - weight in a 2CV is all important and two of us in her could have proven too taxing. Thirdly, no motorways.  Finally a few wateralls for us to park and walk to, and picnic spots, many picnic spots would most definitely be required.   This left us with the choice of one destination, the Creuse.

The Creuse is the next door "departement" to us and I adore it.  It is full of things like this and roads like these  (photos from the Creuse tourist office)

but to many french people it is imagined as something more like this. 

 So there you have it.; destination chosen and car prepared.  Children posted off to Grandma and Grandad and the adventure to begin.Tune in for road trip part II to find out if our marriage survived when I have finished selecting the photos......  Oh and do have a look at the Creuse - it gets an undeserved bad press.

Shabby chic, cheapy-cheap scrapping bunting flags.

Doncha just love bunting?  I have it up whenever I can, birthdays, obviously, royal events (see previous posts) celebratory BBQ when the animals arrived and now summer high teas.  I saw some lovely shabby-chic flags somewhere or other and admired them but they came with a hefty pricce tag.So I decided to rustle some up myself.    Also this week my daughter has been asking me if we could do some sewing together - last year we made lavendar bags - sooo...  my scrappy bunting became a joint sewing projet .
Uber easy to do,  I rummaged round my scrap stash and found some colours and patterns that I liked together (I keep even the littlest of scraps so I had quite a choice).  Next I drew a paper triangle pattern the size I liked -  the best proportions I found was baically an isosoles triangle where the length was the same as the width (mine were 14cm along the top and then I measured 14cm down from the mid-point along the top) and added an extra 1.5cm x 14cm rectangle on top of the triangle which
made attaching the trangles together much easier. (I would have had my daughter draw up the pattern but her Dad had got robots out so I ended up doing the preparation bits by myself....)

Then we cut out zillions of triangles and sewed them right sizes together leaving the top open, this turned into great practise for leaving the needle in the fabric to turn a point! Also she learnt pinning and the great importance of RIGHT SIDES TOGETHER, only one wrongly pinned triangle ;-)   We turned them out the right way and  sewed them into a length of ribbon folded in half - bias tape would have worked well but I didn't have any in the house!

Et voila, easy-peasy, cute and cheerful for a summer tea,  a quick easy sewing project for a six year old AND finished in an afternoon.

Spring in my step.

Everyone is moaning about the weather at the moment and I can't deny that I have added my share of grumblings too.  It has been fairly rotten for May, we haven't had a decent run of sun for months, it seems to manage a day or two and  then collapses with exhaustion over the sustained effort and lets the wind, rain and general coldness run riot for the following week until it can bear to drag itself out of hiding and stares in astonishment at the hoards of people suddenly stripping off jumpers and winter coats again.  But miserable weather aside Spring is still lovely, we have leaves and flowers again and the little sun that we have seems to intensify the colours as it comes through the clouds.  And since you can never be sure when the sun is going to sink into depression once more, the slightest glimmer of blue sky sends the whole family whooping out into the garden.

So today when the lashing rain abated, the thunder stopped and the sky blued up a bit it was a mad dash outside to get the new plants planted, the chicken shed cleaned out (new chicks arriving soon, watch this space) and set the two natural lawn mowers loose in the garden, and also to gather the lilac that survived the storm so now my kitchen smells gorgeous too.  Not so bad for a wet day.

Lilac and herbs.