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A time for reflection


idun
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I lived in my french village for 25 years.

I was good friends with about 12 french ladies, some very very close friends, others a little less so, but still good friends never the less.

Of these 12, I have recently lost yet another one. Of the 12, five are now dead. All younger than me, and one was  in her forties when cancer took her.

In fact, all died of cancers. All were locals, and we lived in a village that didn't suffer pollution, in fact on the face of it it would appear to a healthy place to live.

I know that in the region there are health problems, ie Chamonix and Ugine, but not one would imagine, chez moi.

The friend who died in her forties often used to taquine me about my eating habits, tell me I shouldn't eat this or that or the other, unhealthy etc. And yet she died getting on for 20 years ago, and I am still here.

In fact there were two of them who used to make these little remarks and this other friend has recently died.

And it is not just these 'friends', I was on good terms with a few other ladies, not close enough to eat together, but to chat, and quite a few of them have passed too.

 
I have friends in England, but thus far, have only lost one close one.

It has all made me reflect on this. What with the renowned french health service, apparently, and french people eating healthily etc, apparently and some of these ladies were fit, skiing and walking and running. And all my french friends are much thinner than me, Idun who loves cooking and more importantly, eating it too.

I haven't been on my computer for a while now. As I said, a time for reflection.

edit: forgot to mention that these ladies were in their late fifties to mid sixties........ as my Dad would have said, it is 'no age'.

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Yes, I realise that, but, for me to lose 5 french female friends and four fairly recently on a regular basis, a lot, out of the few that are close to me, feels very strange and slightly disturbing.

IF I was in my eighties, 90's, even late seventies, maybe I would feel differently about it,but I am only in my late 60's. And in general people have been living longer.

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I know of several students of mine, or of establishments at which I taught in the UK who have died, and they were  much younger than me.

Sometimes it is an accident, but most were from disease.

I have spent a total of several months in the regional Cancer centre here in France, and one of the most unsettling features is seeing the number of other patients  clearly much younger than me...

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I suppose you get to an age where a mixture of inevitability and coincidence starts operating in earnest. But your friends sound quite young for that. I was "fortunate" - ironic - that I lost a couple of school friends, one to suicide while still at school, one shortly afterwards because of diabetes . It makes you aware of the frailty of life.

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It just shows how different we are individually. Older people generally more at risk of Covid but some managing to survive it; young, apparently fit people dying for no obvious reason.

Two family friends, one aged 60 who died within months of being diagnosed with cancer; the other diagnosed over 40 years ago with similar disease and has only recently succumbed in late 80s. Outwardly, they seemed very similar characters.
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My ex- wife died unexpectedly about three months ago so have spent much time helping the kids through it. Though we had not been together for thirty odd years it was still a shock and a reminder of the shortness and even suddenness of life.

My school sometimes posts the demise of contemporaries which is another shock as one only remebers them in their youthful prime.

Norman made a comment some time ago when I asked about trees that might be planted in my new garden, to the effect that Imwas too old to see them grow. It got me thinking. But I planted the trees anyway.

Each passing leaves a a little gap however small in those remaining.
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A subject very close to my heart at the moment. Last year, four of my closest friends were diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Two now dead, two dying. All in their early sixties. There's something extremely dodgy going on here in France. I've tried to correlate facts, statistics, habits etc. but obviously four does not make for a comprehensive study. Perhaps instead of spending billions on foreign aid and ****** speed traps, the French government could look into research, prevention and cure of this particular scourge!
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for WB

A reflection in a few poems

1)

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long

2)

Brief Encounter

Cranes

leave overhead

Ripe

fruit falls and rots untouched.

Promise

unfulfilled.

Autumn

is the station where you change for death.

(A  disguished poet)

3)

Soon

we will plunge into deathly cold darkness

Farewell to the

brightness of Summer's brief life!

Already I hear the funereal

thud-fall

Of firewood resounding on cobble-stone yards.

All

Winter will penetrate my being: Rage

Hatred, shivering, horror,

hard forced-labour,

And just like the Sun in its cold polar

Hell

My heart will be only a red block of ice

Trembling

I listen as each log is falling

Building a Scaffold makes no

more muted a sound

My Spirit is one with the Tower that

yields

To

the blows of the battering-ram, tireless
and

heavy.

This

monotonous chopping has

lulled me;

I feel

That

they’re hurriedly nailing a coffin somewhere.

For whom? Summer

was yesterday -- Now Autumn is here!

This mysterious sound tolls

like a farewell.

II

I love the greenish glint

in your wide open eyes--

Such sweet beauty, but today all

tastes bitte
r

,

And nothing , your love, the bedroom or the hearth

Means

as much (
to

me?)
as

the radiant sun on the sea.

Yet Love me, dear heart!

Be just like a mother

Though I'm ungrateful, though I'm so

wicked ;

Lover or Sister, be the fleeting soft moment

Of a

glorious Autumn or the Sun as it sets.

It won't take long!

The hungry tomb is waiting!

Let me taste, my forehead resting on

your knees

As I regret the white-hot heat of Summer,

The

sweetness in the yellow rays of Autumn.

(My translation of Baudelaire, read by me here

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LzvJsMYlwJ4aEA0vWrG8Xf6QAGira1sW/view?usp=sharing

Chant

d'automne

I

Bientôt nous plongerons dans les froides ténèbres;

Adieu,

vive clarté de nos étés trop courts!

J'entends déjà tomber

avec des chocs funèbres

Le bois retentissant sur le pavé des

cours.

Tout

l'hiver va rentrer dans mon être: colère,

Haine, frissons,

horreur, labeur dur et forcé,

Et, comme le soleil dans son

enfer polaire,

Mon coeur ne sera plus qu'un bloc rouge et glacé.

J'écoute

en frémissant chaque bûche qui tombe

L'échafaud qu'on bâtit

n'a pas d'écho plus sourd.

Mon esprit est pareil à la tour qui

succombe

Sous les coups du bélier infatigable et lourd.

II

me semble, bercé par ce choc monotone,

Qu'on cloue en grande

hâte un cercueil quelque part.

Pour qui? — C'était hier

l'été; voici l'automne!

Ce bruit mystérieux sonne comme un

départ.

II

J'aime

de vos longs yeux la lumière verdâtre,

Douce beauté, mais

tout aujourd'hui m'est amer,

Et rien, ni votre amour, ni le

boudoir, ni l'âtre,

Ne me vaut le soleil rayonnant sur la mer.

Et

pourtant aimez-moi, tendre coeur! soyez mère,

Même pour un

ingrat, même pour un méchant;

Amante ou soeur, soyez la

douceur éphémère

D'un glorieux automne ou d'un soleil

couchant.

Courte

tâche! La tombe attend; elle est avide!

Ah! laissez-moi, mon

front posé sur vos genoux,

Goûter, en regrettant l'été blanc

et torride,

De l'arrière-saison le rayon jaune et doux!

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Oh, Norman, if the subject wasn't so essentially depressing, I would say that I have "enjoyed" both your translation and your reading.  But, I find this particular poem frightening and not something to be read when you are feeling vulnerable.

I hear both the matter-of-factness and the echoes of inevitability in your voice.  I am a coward; I cannot face all this just yet.
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