A Bug's Life

What's creeping in the undergrowth this week at Oak Tree Drive?  Most probably it's slugs and snails, the bane of my life these last few weeks, for they destroy everything, from my tender argyranthemums to my aspiring sunflower plants.  Even my mint has been ravaged, which is a new one on me, so these last few nights, I've taken to the garden armed with torch and trowel, to try and remove a few of the hungry little beasts from my garden.  It wasn't all slugs, however, as last night saw the return of a powerful ally and lifelong friend of the gardener, the slow worm.  A prolific slug-eater - thank goodness, maybe some of my plants will be allowed to come into flower after all.

An adult slow worm

We've seen all manner of creepy-crawlies recently, many of which are a tell-tale sign of May.  Last week, a cockchafer - or May bug - flew through the bathroom window, the first I've seen for many years, instantly recognisable by the aggressive sound of its buzzing.  The May bug is, of course, a quite harmless, clumsy little thing.  The six leaves on its unique antennae showed that this one was a female (males have seven.)  We've also been visited by a couple of scarlet lily beetles, which are apparently attracted to fritillaries, a few of which I popped into the garden a couple of months ago.  The beetles squeak when feeling threatened, to shock and frighten a predator such as a bird, or unsuspecting gardener!

A May bug in the bathroom

Scarlet lily beetles on the stem of a fritillary

Last week, we took a walk over the hills of South Devon, to the village of Coffinswell (see my October 2015 blog for more on that village.)  It was a stunning blue-skied day, and butterflies were out in force, with orange tips, red admirals, and large-and-small whites fluttering over the fields and around the hedgerows, visiting the abundant stitchwort, red campion and bluebells.  Our enjoyment was complete on the return walk, when a damselfly drifted lazily across the air - a "beautiful demoiselle," one of only two species of damselfly to have coloured wings, which grow more metallic with age.  From what I have learned, this particular individual is an immature male - although what it was doing in our neck of the woods is less clear, for this is a species that favours fast-flowing streams and rivers.

Male orange-tip butterfly

A "Beautiful Demoiselle" damselfly

The diversity that can be found in the garden or just on the doorstep is amazing at this time of year, so much so that I haven't even got around to giving a garden update.  All of that - including the first appearances of greenfinches, bullfinches and woodpeckers on our plot - will have to wait until next time!

Cooking heaven!

My word, this one has been on our minds for a while!  I must admit, we've put redecoration of the kitchen off, then off again, because of the daunting amount of chaos it would generate.  Having the entire contents of our cupboards - pots, pans, plates, food, the microwave - piled up high on our dining table is not my idea of how to keep a tidy home, but three weeks ago we bit the bullet, poured out the paint, and got started.  Every evening since then - and every weekend - has felt like a thousand years of sanding, priming, painting (and repeat...) through four walls, three drawers, 13 cupboard doors, cabinet ends, skirting boards, door frames... if it was there, the chances are we painted it.  But in the end, we turned it from this:

Into this:

So, now that we've reached the end of this madcap project, what do we like best?  Well, there's a lovely new bread bin, toaster and kettle, tying in with the airy Mediterranean feel that we were looking for, which also fits perfectly with Lizzie's Dachshund serving board (a find from the amazing Pug & Puffin of Lyme Regis.)  We also got hold of a nice cast iron casserole dish which I've had my eye on for a while, along with a splendid wine crate, and some continental olive oils and vinegars.  This is, of course, first-and-foremost a working and cooking space, so we've added a swanky new fruit and veg crate, as well as an inoffensive little compost caddy, keeping every utility perfectly on-hand.  Finally, every kitchen should have its favourite herbs - on our windowsill it's basil, thyme and chives, complementing the rosemary, oregano and mint which grow happily in the garden.

To finish the space, we took a trip to Newton's Frames and Boxes for a browse at their selection of pictures and prints.  We ummed and arred amongst their excellent collection of wall art, before plumping for a Becky Bettesworth print entitled Ooh La La.  Mmmm I don't know about you, but with the Vespa, palm trees and easy-living, I can almost smell the warm seashore of Nice, Cannes, and the Côte d'Azur.

All-in-all, it's been three pretty hard weeks, but the result makes us both very happy - it's a thousand times better than previous, and will at least keep us going until we can afford that complete kitchen refit.  Now the only thing left to do is cook, cook, cook... Oh, and make sure we keep it nice and clean, of course!

Herge, Tintin, the Nazis, and the Seven Crystal Balls

I've been working my way through the Tintin canon recently, aided by Micahel Farr's Tintin The Complete Companion, the definitive guide that takes you behind the scenes of Herge's mind and back in time to really get to grips with where his boy reporter's adventures originate.  Recently I read the Seven Crystal Balls, dipping in-and-out of Farr's book for added detail and context about this most interesting story.

The Seven Crystal Balls was first serialised in December 1943, in Le Soir, a French-language daily newspaper.  Its opening scenes, as Tintin fans around the world will know, see our hero taking a train out to Marlinspike Hall to visit his friend, Captain Haddock.  It's an innocuous, unmemorable scene that very few readers would give more than a cursory glance.  I, too, would have glossed completely over it, had I not discovered the remarkable story behind these most unremarkable little frames.

For the explanation, you need to fast forward to page 50 of the same story.  Following a visit to a hospital, in which seven brave explorers are fighting for their lives following a haunting curse set upon them by the Incan mummy Rasar Capac, Tintin again makes this journey, in almost identical artistry, to the front door of Marlinspike.  Why is this scene repeated in such similar manner?  Had Herge slipped up, and popped in the same frames twice?  Perhaps he forgot that this scene had already occurred?  Fortunately, with a bit of historical context, you'll get the answer.  

Above: Tintin arriving at Marlinspike Hall on page two.  Below: Tintin's near-identical return on page 50

The year was 1943, and Belgium was three-years-deep in the grip of Nazi occupation.  The Nazi authorities shut down Le XXe Siècle, the paper in which Herge's adventures had been serialised, but the artist soon found work on a French-language publication, Le Soir, who invited him to continue his Tintin adventures with them.  Within weeks of Herge's appointment, this paper too fell into Nazi hands, where it began publishing stories of Wehrmacht successes and other propaganda.  Herge continued producing Tintin adventures against this backdrop, taking his readers on more outlandish adventures (such as the 1942 science-fiction tale The Shooting Star , and the swashbuckling legend of Red Rackham's Treasure in 1943), and avoiding the political themes and current events that had been so prevalent in his earlier works (for example, his criticism of Japanese imperialism in the Blue Lotus in 1934-35; the veiled pop at fascism in King Ottokar's Sceptre in 1939.)  This eventually led to the beginning of The Seven Crystal Balls, a story about the curse of an Incan mummy - a tale sufficiently distanced from war-torn Europe.

Science fiction ruled in the Shooting Star (left); King Ottokar's Sceptre took on a more anti-fascist tone (right)

Roll on 1944 and, midway through drawing The Seven Crystal Balls, the Allied Liberation.  In amongst the new rules laid down by the liberating powers, a ban on work was enforced for everybody associated with the Nazi press.  It was an indignity that must have caused deep grief to Herge - rather like the author P.G. Wodehouse, Herge had been, at worst, naive about his involvement with the Nazi-controlled newspaper, considering his work as bringing a little joy and escapism to its readers during those turbulent years.  Not so in the eyes of the authorities - nor in the minds of a proportion of his compatriots - who considered his involvement in Le Soir an act of collaboration, and his work a marketing force behind Nazi propaganda.  Blacklisted, barred from work, and under official investigation, Herge faced arrest four times in 1944, spending one night in a cell.  Each time he was released without charge.

How did it work out for Herge?  The artist spent his enforced down time re-drawing and colouring older adventures of Tintin, for the publisher Casterman.  He also begun producing comics under the pseudonym Olav, alongside friend Edgar P Jacobs, and by the Autumn of 1945, he had been approached by Raymond Leblanc, a former member of Belgium's wartime Resistance, to help launch a weekly children's magazine.  Leblanc's prominence in the Resistance smoothed Herge's pathway back to work (the Head of Censorship and Certificates of Good Citizenship concluded he was "a blunderer rather than a traitor") and the case against him was finally closed on 22 December 1945, when it was declared that "in regard to the particularly inoffensive character of the drawings published by Remi, bringing him before a war tribunal would be inappropriate and risky."  In a sense, Herge was lucky - several other Belgians working on Nazi-controlled literature were sentenced to life imprisonment and even death.

Herge during the war (source: Daily Express)

Receiving his Certificate of Good Citizenship in May 1946, Herge was at last able to work again.  He set about producing the Tintin Magazine, and turned his attention back to his unfinished adventure - The Severn Crystal Balls - which was eventually concluded in 1948.  It is this that makes Tintin's second return to Marlinspike Hall such a fascinating piece of illustration.  In Tintin's deliberate steps up to the main doors for the second time, we glimpse Herge's re-beginning, both of this particular story, and also of his career as an illustrator.  The following scene, in which Tintin is led into the Captain's chamber, also delves deep into Herge's frame of mind during this tumultuous period.  Haddock sits, grim-faced, angry and frustrated.  His butler, Nestor, explains "He's aged ten years since this trouble began..."  It is here, in this otherwise inconspicuous scene, that Herge found a vent for the experiences of the last five years.  It is a scene fraught with the artist's pain.

Herge went on to cement his place amongst the world's very best cartoonists, illustrators, artists and story tellers.  A visionary, he would put his character on the Moon 15 years before Armstrong, dally in real-time global affairs, and even hint at the existence of aliens.  They say that Herge never forgave Belgian society for the way he was treated in the aftermath of Liberation.  Nonetheless, he has gone on to become one of that country's most celebrated sons.