Over the last little while it has been raining here in our quiet corner of south-west France. There has been spectacular lightning to accompany the deluge and some ear-splitting thunder to go with it. I can hear the rain coursing through the gutters of our house during the night and once, I was almost certain that I could hear a vast wooden vessel sailing past the window, pairs of animals bleating, groaning and roaring the while.
But then, I am cursed with a grim type of imagination. It was likely just another pig lorry taking some swine to their demise, rolling past the house and swaying like a galleon - or an ark - as though on some mountainous and turbulent sea. At three in the morning, an oink can convey every known nuance of fear and desperation to the troubled sleeper, his ear the only part of him protruding into the darkness of the bedroom.
A feature of this region, though, speaking of the agreeable side of nature now, is the little yellow-shelled snail, his shell the colour of custard, who always ventures out boldly during a wet period, seemingly to practice his sprinting.
I looked out on our garden table, a light metal folding construction painted white, as the rain drummed down on it the other day and was pleased at the sight of a lone escargot - or cagouille, as they are called in this area - positively hareing across the white expanse, its eye-stalks thrust out if front like a cartoon character’s arm when running from a foe.
When I say ‘hareing’, this must be taken in context.
Snail velocity must be viewed in its own way, as you know. It’s true that this little fellow was not generating a bow-wave in the floods across which he travelled but I could go away and make a cup of tea, come back to the window and he could be a full three inches further on in his sprint.
I didn’t stay to watch, as snail sprinting is about as compelling as Formula One racing or competitive lawn-cutting but I had to smile inwardly in admiration at the little fellow’s drive and determination. I do hope he found what he was looking for. And in the springtime, that could probably be only one thing..
Now for the cartoons. As always, the first three set the scene from the last missive and the fourth is the latest one.
Don’t forget to visit my web site at www.ashleyrigden.com. It’s becoming a home for all things medieval.
At least as important, take a look at the new-look cartoon strips on Webtoons. It’s the same scripts as before because I’m now converting all my work to the new format. “New” to me, anyway, as explained in the last letter.
I bet that, just as soon as I’ve done the lot, it’ll all change again and I’ll be left in the same situation.
Honestly, if it was raining soup, I sometimes think that I’ll be the only bloke with a fork!