Clarence Durelle

Now resident in Provence, Clarence Durelle was born into a supposedly privileged family, though in actuality more deprived than you would ever believe, but there is little point in going into it here.

He has done and achieved many extraordinary things but he doesn’t suppose you would be interested. It is, after all, the work that matters.

For many years a private tutor, he seeks now only peace and understanding.

Recipe for Disaster

Take a day

and an evening

a long, hollowed out existence

and a good-sized slice of disappointment

well-matured

One hope

a bunch of assumptions

some expectations, shredded

a handful of principles

and a dream

— bruised for flavour

Take some stock

and a fresh opportunity

Leave standing for a few days

Cut carefully into the dream

remove the inedible parts

sprinkle with a little coarse optimism

pour on a pint of dread

mix

and soak overnight

Now prepare your evening

warm, with a local wine

garnished with your last remaining prayer

Do not over-season

do not stew

or it will spoil

Simmer

Reduce

Wait until the sauce has all but separated

and it has the appearance of a thick paste

Serves one

cold

Discard any leftovers

Kingfishers at the Pont du Gard

Green and gold

they flit from bank to bank

like birds

in a bird book

kissing the water

giving and taking

communing

with the voices of mice.

Upstream the tourists leap

heavy

noisy

fat

bloated

poisonous

English

Bombing the river

like people.

Soon they will leave

in their cars and buses

their ripples shall settle

their litter may sink

their echoes may settle, eventually

their civilisation may be destroyed.

But here, the fishers fish

the quiet kings

with the manners of the immortals

and the appetites

of something smaller.