Le Chien (1962)

Today Whistles in the Wind is pleased to offer a ‘guest editor’ spot. I’m handing over now. Here she is…

Guest editor

Although I’m tempted to Instagram the half loaf of multigrain bread I ‘lifted’ off the breadboard yesterday, and thus brag of my sophisticated lifestyle options, I’ve chosen instead to share a clip from one of my favourite films in the history of French cinema: Le Chien (1962), directed by François Chalais, and starring European superstars Rex, Elke Sommer and Alain Delon.

We join our hero after a long tussle with affairs of the heart. In this stunning denouement he has left Paris behind and sped off in his voiture, racing through the French countryside – will it be too late?

At this moment tails pause mid-wag, heads tilt and time is suspended as we wait for the only right and true outcome. Makes the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s look like some tawdry afternoon made-for-TV schmaltzfest – and that had cats…

Everything shining bright


April 2013. A memorial on Dartmoor to a Royal Air Force bomber which crashed here in 1941.


There are a few of these posts scattered over the same area: I’m told they were put here during the war to prevent enemy planes from landing.


Jay’s Grave: an eighteenth century suicide, a girl ruined by a local squire. Fresh flowers appear here every few days, something of a local legend. Whoever places them there is brushing up their act with picturesque daffodils in a glass jar. I always remember it usually being an old margarine tub with a few wilted polyanthus chucked in. Not the most uplifting captions are they? But the sun’s shining like I promised. At least I didn’t get in the bit about the friendly community burying the poor girl at a crossroads so that her doomed soul wouldn’t be able to find its way home.


Countryside Commission voiceovers can audition here…


Whose prints?

Spring again

My prints.


The lightning tree.




Blah blah golden host blah wandering etc., etc.

How to make a Weimaraner laugh

There’s been a month of wind-whistling blogging here, so time for a brief interlude in which to walk dogs, take some photos, and drink more tea. I did set out to do a daily blog which is for me a really intriguing process, in how things link at such speed and lead to other posts and the patterns that emerge…

The other day I replied to a comment and realised I was inspired to do this blog by reading L P Hartley’s The Go-Between, and a book about the making of the film of it (which is where my Pinter quote comes from on the About page) a few weeks ago. (Bear with me on this, it’s all made up as I go along…)

I was fascinated by the idea that experiences in childhood linger for a lifetime. Now, The Go-Between may be said to be about traumatic experiences in childhood (even if they may not seem to be on the surface) leading to a kind of paralysis in the process of living as an adult. But it made me think how all experiences, good or bad or indifferent, inform our creative imaginations, and images or words from them trigger subdued parts of ourselves and reconnect us with past selves. I’ll quote a perfectly apt and thoughtful comment made by BookishNature:

They’re like little time portals, giving us the chance to hold memories in our hands; to relive moments and to wander amongst all the associations they evoke…

Some of it may be nostalgia, but it’s also about the present, and taking those ‘portals’ and using them for new things, or learning from them for new ways of living imaginatively in the present and future.

Of course, this is all the musings of a windbag… but just a thought… back soon…