Allez allez...to France toot sweet...

So, this may please a lot of you, last blog post for a while, off to the rural hinterland of France where Pigeons seem to be the only means of getting a message back to Blighty, throwing all my faith into Orange.fr to get a line into the Farmhouse and connect me back up to the WWW or I'll be seeking out some freebie wifi hotspots and  chomping down hard on their bandwidth..... so what is there to say, to those who met me...ooops sorry, to those who didn't meet me, you got off lightly and for those of you yet to meet me, well I'd be checking on your diary for alternative arrangments.... lets stay chummy over the t'interweb, my avatar will always be this go getting , curly haired  lithe minx, so a chance meeting in the flesh would probably be looked on as something of a great dissapointment, I for one, can't wait to hear me do a French version of a Photoshop video tutorial, c'est magnifique, le photographie est enorme et le singe sur l'arbre... well along those lines, should be good. Tonight I attack the furniture with power tools, those that survive will be hustled onto a big blue van that will (hopefully) rendezvous with us on the other side of the Channel.
Time has run out on all the photographic project work I wanted to get through,,,so my Manchester Mono essay will be finished after I come back in August...or even December..time not being my best friend at the moment all the other stuff will morph into various parts of France and Europe..apparently it's not going to be all work and no play...work being the digging, clearing, painting and titivating of maison Max not the hand crafted jewels of photography plucked from the sonorous landscape of the Parc D'Armorique...that being my new home. ( I've had some cider in the sunshine...please allow some leeway in this fluff) 
So if you catch sight of a Pigeon, that unlike it's Manchester counterpart, bloated from feasting on old kebabs and regurgitated Chinese, but fed a diet of artichoke hearts and Gallettes, flapping towards you, don't do as the French do and reach for the shotgun, let it land and rest awhile, there may be a message from some foreign shore strapped to it's well toned leg..and that message will most likely be from me....until then


Bon Journee mes enfants...once more unto the Barricades... I kiss you on all your cheeks XXXX