Newsletter November 04

Well at long, long last here it is. On November 8^th the 4CD Box Set “NOTHING COMES EASY” was released. And it feels soooo good. I am really proud of it. While privately I thought it was a real achievement, I was completely stunned at the reviews.

I have had loads of flattering emails from people who have bought and loved The Box Set. It makes me blush to go on line. So as Christmas is on its way here is the perfect something for your mum or dad, wife or husband, girlfriend, gay friend, cool dude or fashion addict. Let me know what you think. You can also discuss it among yourselves on the Forum.

In complete contrast I have spent most of November preparing for winter in France. I’ve been trying to recover the overgrown rose beds along the side of the millrace. I weeded, pruned, sprayed and turned the soil over. I tried talking to them, singing even. Mostly up beat, optimistic pop songs, a bit of opera and some marching tunes. Still they demanded more attention. In desperation I called on M. Ilario who assists with the mill. His age is approximately somewhere between 80 and Methuselah. His family brought him as a little boy over the Alps from Italy between the World Wars in search of food and work. And he stayed, speaking his own dialect, a strange fusion of Italian, and broad country French. I understand about one in every twenty words nowadays. At first it was only one in a hundred.

Anyway I came across him and his wife and daughter working outside on their vegetables. I called out to him. Ilario came scooting across to me, with his shuffling sprint, saluted and exclaimed, "Oui Patronne!"

Not knowing the correct French I asked in my best Parisienne accent," J’ai besoin de la merde de la vache, s’il vous plait."

Ilario looked puzzled, then his face began to drop as he realized he could not help me because he did not understand a word. He called over his wife and daughter. I repeated my request. They looked at each other quizzically and then explained to Ilario.

"Mais pourquoi voudrait-elle la merde?" he asked them, curious.

"Pour les rosiers," I explained.

"Ah oui, bien sur, le fumier." Ilario grinned from ear to ear at the prospect of being able to please me.

Early the next morning, while I was still in my flannelette pajamas, I heard a huge rumbling noise from outside. I ran out where Ilario stood directing this gigantic farmer’s truck to tip a lorry load of steaming cow pooh in the field. "Voila Patronne!" He seemed very pleased with himself. The smell was, well, as one might expect. At this moment a phone started ringing. A senior executive from EMI Records wanted to talk to me. "Hi Sandie. Everything’s going really well this end. What are you up to?"

"Shall I tell him?" I asked myself. "No, I’m sure it will get lost in translation."

"Umm, it all looks rosy to me," I reassured the record boss. "You know how it is - Nothing Comes Easy."