The Other Side of Me is Peu Loufoque’s blog. I happen to know that Peu Loufoque wasn’t christened Peu Loufoque which, I guess is a lucky thing for her as it means… a little crazy.
Like me, Peu Loufoque lives in Brittany. I’m not sure what that means but what I do know is that PL (as I shall call her from now on) is artistic and produces hand painted ceramic tiles and designs – as can be seen from her other site… www.unpeuloufoque.com – I am not in the slightest bit artistic although…. many people have commented on my tasteful cow pat arrangements.
Moving swiftly along….
The posts on this blog range from the funny, but true, Walking for Beginners where PL takes 60 young French schoolchildren for a 4 hour walk in the deepest forest without managing to lose any of them (must try harder next time!) to The Art of Insomnia, all about sleeping (or not, in this case!)
If you are interested in where PL lives then….we learn that in “Kreizh Breizh, the secretive heart of Brittany,we live now, deep in the Argoat (‘Land of the Woods’).”
Upon investigation, we discover that that translates to Down in the Deep Dark woods I dwell, which, for me, has got to be the ultimate address!
I’d love to have an address like that….A Taste of Garlic, Down in the Deep Dark Woods, Somewhere in rural Brittany.
And somewhere it Brittany it must be, for…. And the rain it raineth every day…. Now, those people unlucky enough to live in the Provence don’t get to say that. Poor things!
Deep philosophical questions are asked in this blog; would you expect anything less? The Chicken and the Egg is a question that has been troubling the minds of some of the world’s greatest thinkers since the dawn of time. Most of whom would be hesitant to admit that Bernard Matthews knows the answer but, he’s not telling!
Like some of the poshest blogs, this one has the occasional bit of poetry. I think that poetry works very well on a blog.
In The Lost Generation PL prints Brooke’s Anthem for Doomed Youth and explains that…. In the Great War the Bretons fought for France and had the highest death toll of any region. twenty five per cent of the populace perished, leaving farms to fall into decay and families broken. The whole thing was repeated in second world war.
Well, is any wonder that the buggers are grumpy?
And, talking of grumpy…….
You can almost taste the stress in Enter the headless chicken disguised as a housewife and I’m even beginning to worry for the poor VIP visitor that PL is waiting for!
PL manages to come out with the most wonderful phrases sometimes; phrases that stick in your mind and keep repeating themselves at inopportune moments (a bit like the Girlie’s Andouilette jam!) In Uncontrolled ramblings upon the subject of Hermits, Queen Victoria and wet weather walks we learn thatThere used to a hermit near us when I was a child. To be more accurate it was just his vacant cave as he had long died. Least ways, I presume he was dead but who can tell with a hermit?
Yes, how do you tell… with a hermit?
Well, to find out, I suggest to visit wet and windy Brittany and take a good look at The Other Side of Me. You might not find the answer but you will have a wonderful trip.
And me? Well, I’m intrigued about what happens on a Shy woman’s quiet night out… and, more importantly, how many glasses of white frothy wine did it take for her to be able to admit… I came home feeling a happy if somewhat inebriated bunny.
All the best