Flower of the Day 11.05.2016: Blue Daises

Blue daisies

blue daisies
Another wild flower that grows in my garden in April. I do not know where it came from, but they have appeared annually in the last ten years and I find them much too pretty to call weed. The colour is really a spectacular blue. If anyone knows the name of this plant I would be very thankful.

Cee’s Flower of the Day 11.05.2016: Blue Daisies

One word photo challenge: Bulb

Stork sitting on lampost in Feldbrunnen, Switzerland

The stork colony of Altreu is nearby just along the river. They tend to fly around and perch in comfortable places, especially on the local lamp posts.

Lights in Migro car park, Langendorf

At the local supermarket parking lot taken one evening.


Sometimes I take photos and do not know why. At last this onion has found a purpose in its life – it is a bulb, even if it is a growing bulb.

One Word Photo Challenge: Bulb

Daily Prompt: Generation

Sissinghurst Cemetary

My name is Angloswiss and I am a graveyard tourist. I do not mind admitting it. Others take photos of famous landmarks, show people where they spent their holidays, and me? I play the generation game showing people where I might have a few related bones laying around. I began a few years ago going through records, ordering birth certaificates of long lost ancestors that I actually never knew I had.

It got interesting when I discovered I am a Huguenot – not exactly, but grandad’s mum, my great grandmother had the name of Camroux. So you take a trip to France (on the computer) and discover there was a whole bunch of Camroux spread around Montpellier and the little villages in the area. Unfortunately the French did not want protestant Camroux inhabitants, so there followed a small disagreement resulting in the deaths of many Huguenots. It was said the River Seine was red with their blood at the time, but who knows. Anyhow my Camroux decided to go while the going was good. It seems a couple were sleeping at the time and spent the remainder of their days on the galleys as french prisoners. The others took a trip to London via Germany from where my part of the Camroux family originates.

Anyhow great grandmother Lay, born Camroux, had a long happy life and died at the age of 91 in 1911. How do I know all this? No problem, today it is all on line. Just pay the money, register and you get it all on the computer records. Nothing is now left to coincidence. I spent many hours, days and months, if not years, searching for a connection to the British Royal famiy. Was I a Saxe-Coburg, House of Hannover, having a connction with Queen Victoria? Had today’s royal family, now the house of Windsor, cheated me out of my rightful inheritance? Who knows? Of course perhaps Marie Antoinette might be involved, me being a genuine Huguenot in the generation game, but Marie Antoinette was not a Huguenotte and all those Louis Kings they had in france were definately not in my family. My mum did not like garlic in her food and she  was convinced that the French ate horse meat, which no self respecting British subject would touch. I quite like it, but I always was an exception.

My next genrations will all be Swiss of the Helvetia tribes.  I can imagine the disappointment when my descendants in 100 years or more discover that somewhere along the line english blood had been mixed into the family and that they were not descendants of Arnold Winkelried. He was a genuine Swiss hero that gathered the spears in his arms of the advancing army to save Switzerland, although rumour has it his last words were “who pushed me”.

After discovering 1,005 people in my family tree, I gave up. This modern trend about finding who you are and who you were was taking up too much time and money.

This is a short one today as I am off to the hairdresser. Her name is Heidi, but no, she is not descended from the lady in the book “Heidi”, it is a Swiss name. If Mr. Swiss wants to trace his ancestors it is no problem. All the generations are registered in his original home place which is in Emmental. The Swiss always know where they originated. He even knows the name of the village and how it all happened. That is Switzerland, they leave nothing to chance. Everyone has a home town, a place where it is all stored. Now and again a fire might have broken out and the records destroyed, but every self respecting Swiss has it all in his head. I think they learn it from when they are born. It seems Mr. Swiss grandfather was even in the French foreign legion, but we do not really speak about it.

Due to the fact that Mr. Swiss chose me as his wife (or was it vice versa), I am also now a native of the Emmental, because my documents are now also deposited in Schloss Trachselwald with his I suppose. To keep things tidy, if you move in Switzerland you must register in your new local town hall and deposit your documents there. If you forget to do this, or even refuse, you are confronted with a fine. You just cannot have people moving around and not saying where they are going.

I never told anyone in England I was going, I caught up with it a few years ago, thanks to the Swiss. They told me that I was entitled to an english pension as I was now retired and gave me details where to write. Yes, the Swiss are really good and thorough. I now receive a monthly pension from england as well as my Swiss pension. It is not a vast amount, but buys me a Sunday dinner.

I must now go, my iPhone has just told me to get ready for my hairdresser appointment and Mr. Swiss is getting nervous in the background, he is my chauffeur and will be generating the car.

Daily Prompt: Generation

Good Morning

Lilac 08.05 (4)

Let’s have a cheerful photo to begin the day. This lilac tree is directly opposite my kitchen window and is not beginning to blossom. At least somethig is wide awake and ready t go in the morning.

MeThis afternoon I have a hairdresser’s appointment at last. Actually I wanted to do a selfie of me this morning, but doing selfies is easier said than done. After five attempts, and five cancellations, I decided to give up, so you will have to do with last week’s selfie which was more luck than judgement. I cropped the bad parts away, but there are still some faulty parts left, namely my face, but that is beyond repair. At least my head looks normally attached. The selfies I did this morning made me look one sided and as much as I smiled, it look more like one of those fun fair mirrors which give a distorted reflection. The problem was me without the mirror effects. Vampires have it better in life, they have no reflections. On the other hand they probably cannot do selfies.

As you can see my hair is long. It looks OK, but now a week has passed and I now have one of those sexy styles where my locks fall permanently over my eyes. The problem is that grey is not sexy. No this afternoon it will be me and Heidi and she will do the right thing. I want it short again, very short – not quite Bruce Willis, but in that direction.

My chauffeur, Mr. Swiss, will take me to the hairdressers and pick me up afterwards. He said he does not mind, meaning probably he will get a cup of coffee from Heidi and a chat into the bargain. Heidi is also one of our neighbours. I used to have another hairdresser, The hairdresser I had left, and afterwards I seemed to have been thrown to anyone that had time. I usually landed with one of those old enough to be my granddaughter. Once I was sitting in the chair waiting to be scalped and an elderly lady was in the next chair, searching through a hairdresser book for a chosen hair style. The hairdresser appeared, took a look at the styles and said to the elderly lady “those styles are not for you”. “How dare she” I thought and slowly I discovered that I was also one of those customers where “it was not for you”. I knew what I wanted, but she cut it how she wanted, not short enough for my taste.

One day I decided to have a look around, entered the next hairdresser door and there was Heidi. We made an appointment, I said like this and like that , and please short and it was perfect. She listened and did the job, talking all the time with me. We got on like a haircut on fire. Since then Heidi is responsible for my hair. She changed her saloon some time ago, but I moved with her. She understands my hair and my hair understands her. Now and again I let her do an experiment, but it is my decision. Mr. Swiss also knows her quite well. He must if he waits in a lady’s hairdressing saloon for me to have my hair cut. Of course, he can go to the café next door. Due to problems with my dad and medical reasons, I pushed my beauty treatment to one side, but today is the day. I need air and breathing space  on my head.

First of all I have an important quest at the supermarket. Yes I will be active today with a supermarket wagon for support. I have made my list on my iPhone, being cybernetic so what could possible go wrong. And now for action, the vacuum cleaner and other instruments are waiting. Today is another blog day for us all, so sharpen your keyboards and clean your plugs, we will have fun I am sure.