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Homage to the Muses

I am desperately trying to remember an idea that I had earlier. It was so vivid, so good, that I was certain that I will remember it for years to come. A few hours later — nothing. Not a single shred of memory apart from the fact that it was good and important.  Where do our thoughts come from? Are they stored somewhere, and we just put our hands down, grab one by the neck and take it to the surface of our mind? No? Do we produce them? I guess that is the answer of most. ‘It is my thought! I built it myself’?  ‘Out of what’, I would ask. I always had the feeling that the thoughts do not belong to me. It always feels rather magical to have an idea and most of the time I don’t feel happy receiving the credit for it. I feel like a fraud, like a pretender.  People in older times were somehow humbler. They believed in the existence of the Muses, and I find this very agreeable. How wonderfully humble that idea is! I produce something, but only if I am inspired by the gods. So ‘...

The Chateau de Fosseuse

After a long and very hot drive through France, our party of three - my travel companion Liz, my dog and I - arrived at our guest house. Liz had booked it on the Internet and kept telling me it looked very nice indeed. I took it with a pinch of doubt as nowadays you can make anything look nice if you had a stylish website.

When we got out of the car and looked at it though, we realised that we were going to sleep in a castle. A dignified old building stood in front of us, with a staircase covered in climbers. It had enough little cracks on its face to look old and enough charm to look still attractive.






We were showed around by the owners - a French guy who refused to speak in English in the most charming way, and his wife - an English lady who has been leaving in France for many years but had kept her Englishness very well. We also found out on the next morning that she still could make a decent pot of tea!

We were led to our room, climbing the almost worn out steps, which were partially renovated. Apparently the daughter, who, if I am not mistaken, was a restorer left some untouched so one could see the age of the building.



We stayed in the suite (at the present only three rooms are available for B&B - two rooms and a suite) and when we looked around we realised that everything had been kept very close to the original decor. Even the wallpapers were actually made of fabric. A wonderful restoration indeed!



The light switch was behind a door without a key; a long flayer of steps were leading to who knows where. I was wondering if there were any ghosts in the chateau but my dog slept all night like a log and apart from the ocasional fluttering of bats' wings outside the window the silence was like thunder. It was too peaceful for me to sleep. I was missing the voices of the city. In spite of that I felt quite rested on the next morning and ready for the long drive to Sakya Changloche Ling in the Dordogne.

We will be staying there again in the Chateau on our way back to England so I hope to get to know the place better. Its history is facinating but I will write another post about it later. For more details, here is the Chateau de Fosseuse's website.



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