Although I couldn't photograph the typewriters themselves I could photograph the poster advertising the exhibition. Each machine I looked at made me love my laptop more. I still remember how hard you had to push at the keys and how fast the reporters typed with two fingers in the city room of the Lawrence Daily Eagle, where I worked as a cub reporter at 16. To get a better look at the poster, right click on it.
Not an exciting day, but one I thoroughly loved even if it wasn’t the most productive from a writing perspective. The human element is far more important to me than number of pages. If not, I could have always said no, and locked myself to the computer.
8:00: I wake to the television, having left the TV on to watch the Clinton/Obama debate, which I slept through. Rather than get up I finished the last chapter of Spanish Fly. Reading in bed in the morning, is the ultimate luxury. I actively enjoy not rushing to iron clothes for the office.
8:30: Make a fresh pot of tea and start to write.
10:00: Phone call. Robin is at Barbara’s and want’s to know if I want coffee and could I return the hat he left when the three of us had dinner Tuesday night. I throw on clothes and take the hat and Spanish Fly which both Barbara and I think he’ll enjoy.
10:15-11:15: Robin and I decide it is warm enough to have coffee outside at Franck’s. His wife Louise, her tummy bulging with son No. 2, stops and talks as does Franck, Ken, Leaila, Christine, Cristina and Michel. There’s a reason they say all roads to lead to Franck’s. The real name of the tea room is La Noisette, but most of us just say Franck’s ignoring it is also Louise’s. In between chatting with neighbours and friends, Robin and I talk about American, English, French, Middle Eastern, Serbian and Swiss politics and his old organization and a hundred other topics that pop into our heads. The sky is bright blue over the church. He leaves to catch the bus, which is really a series of open tourist cars back to the port. However, on the way, we stop to see the painting of Mont Blanc, an American friend did last summer at the restaurant La Petit Pause. He decides it is a good place to eat some time in the future. As an ex-Geneva resident he must miss the cooking of Haute Savoie.
11:15-noon: At the green grocer’s the owner Elisabeth introduces me as the writer to a French elderly man who also writes and he tells me how, although he has a computer, he still likes to write by hand. His face reminds me of Hume Croyn, who appeared years ago in Cocoon.
I buy asparagus, the green cultivated kind. Both the white and wild are sold out. Then I go to Babbette’s and Jean-Pierre’s for some staples. They comment on how I no longer buy Coca-Cola. I launch into a detail of how my favourite beverage aggravates my esophagus. I don’t tell them, I think of it as E. Sophie Gus to joke away my annoyance at it bringing me pain. A quick stop at Barbara’s shop reintroduces me to a French woman who is renovating a house across from the church. I haven’t seen her for a couple of years, and still can’t remember her name.
Noon-13:30: Watch the replay of the debate on CNN and make lunch. Pasta with mushrooms, red onion, celery and asparagus in a cream-cheese-tomato sauce. For dessert there’s fresh strawberries and apples dipped in cinnamon and cream.
13:30-16:45: Work on my credit union newsletter and get ready to send it out.
16:45-18:00: The day is still beautiful and I walk breathing in the sun and warm air. I make a quick stop at the marie to see if I can vote in the local election. The man at reception smiles when I say, “I know I don’t sound it, but I am a Suissess.” The French allow Europeans to vote in local elections. Unfortunately, Switzerland is not in the EU. Sigh… Still it is civilized that they allow foreigners to vote on local matters that concern them.
I head for the exhibition of old typewriters. I see a Remington like the ones my father used to sell when he owned a franchise in West Virginia, an Olivetti model that I used in college and lots of old IBM golf balls. I tell the woman who oversees the exhibition (she is also an actress in the local little theatre group) about the time two vice presidents of IBM came to the house after we complained about service in a letter to the IBM CEO, probably thinking of a huge enterprise. They asked next time to contact them directly. Although I would like to take a photo of one of the machines, the owner did not want it done. Instead, I walk to take a picture of the poster advertising the exhibition.
8:00: I wake to the television, having left the TV on to watch the Clinton/Obama debate, which I slept through. Rather than get up I finished the last chapter of Spanish Fly. Reading in bed in the morning, is the ultimate luxury. I actively enjoy not rushing to iron clothes for the office.
8:30: Make a fresh pot of tea and start to write.
10:00: Phone call. Robin is at Barbara’s and want’s to know if I want coffee and could I return the hat he left when the three of us had dinner Tuesday night. I throw on clothes and take the hat and Spanish Fly which both Barbara and I think he’ll enjoy.
10:15-11:15: Robin and I decide it is warm enough to have coffee outside at Franck’s. His wife Louise, her tummy bulging with son No. 2, stops and talks as does Franck, Ken, Leaila, Christine, Cristina and Michel. There’s a reason they say all roads to lead to Franck’s. The real name of the tea room is La Noisette, but most of us just say Franck’s ignoring it is also Louise’s. In between chatting with neighbours and friends, Robin and I talk about American, English, French, Middle Eastern, Serbian and Swiss politics and his old organization and a hundred other topics that pop into our heads. The sky is bright blue over the church. He leaves to catch the bus, which is really a series of open tourist cars back to the port. However, on the way, we stop to see the painting of Mont Blanc, an American friend did last summer at the restaurant La Petit Pause. He decides it is a good place to eat some time in the future. As an ex-Geneva resident he must miss the cooking of Haute Savoie.
11:15-noon: At the green grocer’s the owner Elisabeth introduces me as the writer to a French elderly man who also writes and he tells me how, although he has a computer, he still likes to write by hand. His face reminds me of Hume Croyn, who appeared years ago in Cocoon.
I buy asparagus, the green cultivated kind. Both the white and wild are sold out. Then I go to Babbette’s and Jean-Pierre’s for some staples. They comment on how I no longer buy Coca-Cola. I launch into a detail of how my favourite beverage aggravates my esophagus. I don’t tell them, I think of it as E. Sophie Gus to joke away my annoyance at it bringing me pain. A quick stop at Barbara’s shop reintroduces me to a French woman who is renovating a house across from the church. I haven’t seen her for a couple of years, and still can’t remember her name.
Noon-13:30: Watch the replay of the debate on CNN and make lunch. Pasta with mushrooms, red onion, celery and asparagus in a cream-cheese-tomato sauce. For dessert there’s fresh strawberries and apples dipped in cinnamon and cream.
13:30-16:45: Work on my credit union newsletter and get ready to send it out.
16:45-18:00: The day is still beautiful and I walk breathing in the sun and warm air. I make a quick stop at the marie to see if I can vote in the local election. The man at reception smiles when I say, “I know I don’t sound it, but I am a Suissess.” The French allow Europeans to vote in local elections. Unfortunately, Switzerland is not in the EU. Sigh… Still it is civilized that they allow foreigners to vote on local matters that concern them.
I head for the exhibition of old typewriters. I see a Remington like the ones my father used to sell when he owned a franchise in West Virginia, an Olivetti model that I used in college and lots of old IBM golf balls. I tell the woman who oversees the exhibition (she is also an actress in the local little theatre group) about the time two vice presidents of IBM came to the house after we complained about service in a letter to the IBM CEO, probably thinking of a huge enterprise. They asked next time to contact them directly. Although I would like to take a photo of one of the machines, the owner did not want it done. Instead, I walk to take a picture of the poster advertising the exhibition.
Suddenly RB2 appears. We have missed each other for months although we message and email. He asks if I have time for a coffee. I sit with him in one of the sidewalk cafés which are rapidly filling up with people who want to stop for a drink or tea before heading home. He has photos of the house he and his family have rented near Neuchâtel.
18:00: I go to see the movie Enfin Veuve…a woman in an unhappy marriage and with a lover loses her husband. Relieved to be alone, she discovers her family leaves her anything but alone. A chuckle film in the French tradition of comedy.
20:00: Head home to write until bedtime. I test the newsletter and wait until it is completed before sending it to my subscribers. I also email back and forth with a couple of people in Canada and friends in the States.
At no time during the day have I wandered more than a half a mile from my front door. At all times my contentment meter is over the top.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment