#ceiling of the gervais room

[7pleiades7]

L'innocence by Paul Gervais (1859–1944), oil on canvas, Le Capitole de Toulouse, Plafond de la Salle Gervais

[ryo-maybe]

Voice

Nonetheless, she opens the door and steps inside. The interrogation room is as by-the-book as it can possibly get: a single lamp shines bright over the walls, dull gray paint rising from the floor like a tide until it meets the spotless white cascading from the ceiling; caught between the contrasting colors, the one-way mirror reflects the opaque rectangle of the table, along with two metallic chairs that promise little in the way of comfort. The man sits on one of the chairs. The inspector, whom her colleagues playfully call "Bri", approaches the other seat with slow, measured steps, lowers herself on it, and decides her elbows will find better rest on the rigid line of her pants than on the table's chilly surface.

For a while, inspector Bri stares the man in the face. Already, the slight puzzlement with which he had greeted her arrival has subsumed into nothing. An emotional void shaped like a visage, awaiting input like a machine unable to act of its own volition. The inspector wonders if it was the interrogation that squeezed him dry of impulse, or the act that occasioned said interrogation to begin with. She quickly dismisses the latter, however. After all, it was the man himself, whose name is Vittorio Neuman, that showed up three hours ago at the 25th precinct of the Grammar Police to admit to the murder of Kanade Mizutani, lovingly dubbed by her fans the "Prince of Tomboys".

"Why did you do it, Neuman?"

The sound of her voice is that of rust, of ancient sheen lost to time and lack of polish. She doesn't bother intoning it like a question, leaving the onus entirely on that one word - why. The interrogation room is a cold terrarium where that very same word is made to bloom. Sometimes, a savvy gardener may even pluck an overripe truth from the midst of thorny lies.

"Your colleagues asked me the same question. Is there a point to me giving you the same answer?"

Neuman speaks with measured inflection, each syllable carefully laid in front of the other with care that borders on the artificial. But that is all there is to it: a bundle of information, wrapped up in an aseptic package and delivered without conviction. From the murky lake of inspector Bri's thoughts emerges the half-forgotten memory of Ser Jallufan, the jolly wandering suit of armor whose sense of purpose had exceeded its wearer's. She blinks the image away, thinking that the man in front of her appears to be its specular opposite. Emptiness in the guise of a human.

"You told them that you didn't like her voice." And, as far as agents Claud and Gervais were concerned, it was enough. Something to fill the blank line in their report and call it a day. One vermilion stamp and it'll be straight behind the bars for the cruel murderer of a beloved voice actress. Would that every criminal this side of the City could be so pleasantly inclined to lessening the work of the oh-so-hard-working Grammar Police.

"It is the truth."

No, it is a fact. A dry statement, the cause preceding the gruesome effect. Inspector Bri leans back in her chair, her fingers instinctively grasping the empty air near her left hip. She lifts her chin by a smattering of millimeters, and it is all it takes to give off the impression that her austere gaze is being cast from a far greater height. Like the old times; only, beneath her are not a leather saddle and her trusty steed, but the seat of the cheapest chairs the precinct could afford to put under its agents' asses.

"I need you to understand that it's all been settled way before I came, Neuman. Whatever you say here and now, I am fairly sure a judge has already begun drafting your Cancellation Notice. I'm not asking for your own sake - I'm asking for my own. So tell me: why didn't you like her voice?"

She sees the thin crease on his forehead, the gears turning behind his hollow eyes. He wonders if it might be worth telling the inspector what she wants to hear, if it is even worth wondering at all. His lips purse inwards. He shakes his head, weakly, while his eyes focus on nothing in particular. When they turn to reflect inspector Bri's imposingly taller figure again, a glimmer has appeared inside them. Pity, although she cannot tell whom between them it could be directed at.

"I enjoy…" A pause, filled by a long, tired breath. "Used to. Enjoy stories. I loved to imagine my favorite works of fiction, the ones that made me feel… overwhelmed with emotion… I liked to think that their creators were just as passionate about them. That my favorite characters were cherished by their authors, plots crafted with the sole intent of sharing with others something so deeply intimate, so so so sincere…"

Neuman stops, realizing that, at some point, the shadow of a smile had begun to tear into his cheek. It dissipates quickly, leaving behind the same featureless line as before. Inspector Bri closes her eyes, waiting until the image has lost its freshness and disappeared from the darkness behind her eyelids, then opens them again.

"I do not know when it started. Perhaps, I suppose, I simply grew up. Adulthood progressively stripped me of my dreams and beliefs, until not even my dearly beloved refuge could not be spared. Until I couldn't help but peek behind the curtain, and see my favorite stories for what they were." He shakes his head again, disgust cutting a sharp edge out of his blank mask. "Products manufactured for consumption. Pre-packaged emotions sold to hordes of eager buyers. I peered at the sun and came out blind for it. Have you ever experienced it? The dread of listening to a character speaking, but hearing the actor's voice. To lose yourself in that dissonant separation between creator and creation, unable to enjoy either. Even so, you wish to believe in it. In the emotions that pour forth from that voice. You want to believe that it is love that flows from an actress' mouth into her character's. Then someone leaks that actress' private text history, and it turns out they're an arrogant bitch who thinks her time is being wasted on a crappy series."

Neuman grows silent, slumping in his chair. Inspector Bri's reflection on the table is a vague, unrecognizable smudge: her gaze lingers on it for a quiet while, then she rises from her seat. She had taken from the man anything he had left to give away. The cold, hard facts, what transpired between his somber realization and the moment he held the knife in his hand, are beside anyone's concern but the judge's and the forensics team. Even so, after opening the door Inspector Bri stops to give Neuman one last, unreciprocated look. Again, the wandering armor's phantom image materializes in her mind, although plucked from a different time than before. The distant memory of Ser Jallufan's lifeless pieces, scattered across the asphalt that cuts between the 31st and 32nd avenues, follows her into the chilly winter air outside the precinct.

***

"It's been a while, Sir Brigild."

Gregory the Vault does not turn to face the inspector with his bespectacled gaze. The dark, round lenses face ever forward, the eyeless skin behind them inviting those who sit beside him to do so without fear of judgment or untoward attention. Flakes of snow occasionally settle on the leather vest that covers his otherwise bare, hairy torso, and on jeans so worn one may struggle to believe they were once a vivid blue. He sits on his usual granite bench, rigidly though not because of the cold, which he barely seems to mind. To inspector Bri, he looks like a dragon awaiting a new addition to its hoard, although the jar he drags towards him to make space for her is hardly so majestic to behold.

"For someone who makes a living out of listening to other people, you sure are deaf when I tell you it's inspector now." Inspector Bri, once Sir Brigild, sits beside the devil, hands seeking warm comfort in the pockets of her service coat.

"A knight no more, yet you don your armor all the same. On your words - and on your face."

She doesn't reply, her severe expression proving him right. Her breast has long since forgotten the sensation of chainmail pressing against it, and her sword no longer hangs by her hip. Her hair, once flowing like a lion's fiery mane, is now no more than graying bristles. But her bearing persists nonetheless, in the trace amounts that all the rewrites couldn't edit out of her when she became an extension of the Grammar Police's authority.

"A story for a story." He pauses, massaging his goatee for a brief moment, then pops off the jar. Inside of it, a small mound of paper scraps, each woven in writing different from the other. "Inspector. You know the rules."

She does. Her eyes close, the dark turns into a canvas where she can reorganize her memories and thoughts into a coherent whole. Eventually, she begins to speak. Painted over her eyes, hanging on the building directly across the small plaza, the ornate sign of the Coeup d'Oeil: the restaurant, where able-handed artists paint splendid delicacies for their patrons gazes to feast upon.

[cannebady]

I woke up with an idea:

Human AU where Crowley and Aziraphale are seeing the same therapist and have a series of short meetings in the waiting room that just maybe become something. Here's the intro, if there's interest, I'll write the rest!

There’s a case to be made that any clock on any wall that happens to find itself gracing a therapist’s waiting room is louder than any clock found anywhere else, will the distinct exception of any clock that finds itself unlucky enough to be on the wall of a shared cubicle space in an office. Now, if he had the time or inclination, Crowley is fairly certain that he could win a bloody Nobel prize for research this groundbreaking, but as it stands any time that isn’t spent anxiously planning his days around thinking about things is spent in this office specifically thinking about things and, regrettably, also talking about them so any research he may have produced is going to be on hold for the foreseeable future.

He sighs loudly for the sixth time in the last two minutes and forty-two seconds and shifts to take up even more space on the sofa, which could broadly be considered bohemian in style if one were trying to avoid saying shitty, broken, and generally puce, while he waits for Dr. “Anthony, please for the love of Mother Earth please call me Anathema” Device to finish up whatever useless session she’s in right now so she can focus on his useless session instead. He feels a bit bad about that thought, actually. Therapy does, he supposes, work for some people and far be it from him to downplay someone else’s struggle, but it’s now four minutes and thirteen seconds after his appointment was supposed to start and he’s got a jam-packed night of rehashing the past, listening to his Bummer playlist, and avoiding thinking thoughts that he’d like to get a start on.

He leans his head back and stares at the whirling pattern of the ceiling and finds the dotted pattern that accidentally looks a bit like Ricky Gervais before shifting to the side and, once again, counting the informational pamphlets on the wall to pass the time; fourteen, just like usual. He’s just started bouncing his leg in clear irritation as a signal to the universe to get the hell on with it already when he hears shifting behind the office door and sits up to attention. No need to incur the wrath of Dr. “Fine, Anathema it is, if you have to be so particular about it” Device before he’s even started his evasive maneuvers for the day. Crowley can hear her voice, clear, direct, American, before the door opens and the blondest, most tartan-clad, most likely to have read Pride & Prejudice at least six times (this year) looking man walks out ahead of her. His eyes, which Crowley notices once he stops giving him a clear elevator appraisal behind his shades, are red-rimmed but a gorgeous mossy green-blue but his smile is one that makes Crowley think again about his commitment to never again. It’s odd, the man is clearly upset but he radiates both hope and gratitude in a way the Crowley couldn’t even imagine. His heart rate picks up slightly and he’d scowl directly at his chest if he could stop staring for one bloody second.

“I’ll see you next week, Aziraphale.” Dr. “Anthony honestly, why are you like this” Device says and gives the man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

The man, Aziraphale if he’s heard correctly (and what a name that is), reaches up to squeeze her hand, bids her a genuine thank you and good evening, before throwing Crowley a smile of his own and striding out the door like he hadn’t made Crowley sit still and stop avoiding thoughts for the past fifty-three seconds.

[notasapleasure]

Sunday six

One mostly cheerful WIP about Band AU Adam and Danny cooking together - six paragraphs because there’s loads of it and why not.

The little garret was bright as an artist's studio, white-washed and tidy, decorated with a tasteful minimalism that served to highlight Danny's own flamboyance. The band had been recording in Paris for a matter of weeks, but Danny had personalised the space with ruthless speed: navy blue rag-rugs formed paths across the white floorboards and gauzy grey pashminas divided the sleeping area from the sitting room of the tiny flat. The views from the floor-to-ceiling windows were as promised: at the end of the street was the elegant, pale face of the Agoudas Hakehilos Synagogue, and beyond it the arching top of l'Église Saint-Gervais peeked up above a hazy stretch of lead-blue rooftops, while to the south-east the towering, Baroque columns of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis could be identified. With a little imagination, from among the distant greys of tower blocks, one might even glimpse the cathedral on the river. Citywide, the views were dotted with fresh sprigs of green, and white windowsills glowed when scudding clouds moved aside. Adam smiled. "I'm going to have to come back and paint that." Around him, Danny flitted between the kitchen and sitting areas in acid-wash jeans and a blouse that, had he been pressed to describe it, Adam would have said was designed to evoke the idea of unicorn vomit. Even for the brief shopping trip, Danny had managed to apply their customary vibrant make-up: mint green and pink clouds of eye-shadow had been chosen to match the blouse, and tacky plastic stars glittered and swung from Danny's earrings with every toss of their chin or extravagant gesture. "Sit, sit," Danny ushered Adam into one of the woodworm-pocked chairs at the little kitchen table. "You can take notes for the first steps. I'll make tea." Adam dutifully sat and rummaged in a pocket of his jacket for the notebook he used for song-writing. At the front were scraps of lyrics shared by Lymond with the band, sketches and scrawled suggestions of melodies, and questions Adam intended to put to bandmates when they became relevant. At the back of little pad, written in bold, cursive letters, were the words 'Flaw Valleys - landline' and an English telephone number that Adam had already memorised. He smiled at the promise of what Danny was teaching him, and turned the page to write out the recipe title.

And a WIP for my fellow gremlins out there: a pretty cursed Gabriel/Jerott Band AU hookup happening in early 1981 (not to be finished until after I finish fic 50, which is the farewell to Thatcher house party).

His lips were soft, his large hand came up to cup Jerott's face with all the exquisite gentleness that Jerott had thirsted for. Geetesh kept the kiss brief though, using his height to pull away until he could murmur against Jerott's parted mouth: "Not here, bholaa." His hand slid from Jerott's face to his shoulder, never breaking touch as it moved down his arm to enclose his trembling fingers. Geetesh turned to exchange a blessing with other disciples and Jerott waited, his eyes wide and fixed on that noble profile: on the high curves of Geetesh's cheekbones, smattered with colour by the Indian sun, on the saffron glitter of his lashes and his calm, calming smile. Jerott did not know how long he waited - he did not notice the farewells of other sannyasins as the crowd of dancers dispersed, because all of him was focused, with the tapering precision of love, on Graham Reid Malett. He did not question the necessity of waiting, nor of Geetesh's words not here: Geetesh's hand was warm and firm around his, and it filled Jerott with certainty.

[leswansong]

Marichat May - Kitty Cats & Ballet Shoes

Day Twenty-Five: Puss in Boots

[ A03 ]

   The drive down to Montpelier was the longest she had ever experienced, mainly due to her constantly asking Chat to pull over so that she was sure he was okay and not overdoing it. She had made it clear to him that she was fine with sleeping in the back seat overnight if he didn’t feel like driving the entire distance that day; his sickness had slightly let up in the three days they had stayed in Saint-Gervais but not enough for him to be on the road to recovery in her mind, Him being sick also meant that they missed ringing in the new year. In the end it was worth it, Chat had driven them to the hotel with the most amount of stars he could find and booked a room for two weeks, she knew he would have booked longer if it weren’t for the fact that she needed to get back to the opera house to pick up her classes and requirements for the new year.

   Marinette stared up at the ceiling above her on the mattress that was way to firm for her liking. She had her headphones in listening to the playlist her dance instructor had sent her, she was supposed to be getting back into dancing but here she was laying down staring up a boring ceiling.

   She looked at him and raised an eyebrow at his incredibly rugged up appearance. He had a thick heavy winter jacket on as well as a scarf, a beanie, a set of earmuffs and gloves but what stood out was the set of large, heavy, thick winter boots on his feet. He was extremely overdressed for the light powder on the ground outside.

   She bit back the laugh that bubbled at the back of her throat and asked him why he was dressed like that. There was no way on planet earth would she let him out of the hotel room while he was still sick. “Where do you think you’re going?” she questioned.

   He froze, he hadn’t even realized he had been seen, slowly he turned to face her, “Marinette-“ he stuttered out, “I- didn’t expect to see you… here…”

   She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Chat, you are not going anywhere in your condition.”

   He crossed his arms and tried to turn back towards the door but Marinette beat him to it. He sighed and head back to his bed, he took his scarf off then his gloves, beanie and earmuffs. He sat down and crossed his arms, he was trying to act tough but she saw straight through him, he wanted to go but she really didn’t want to see him get worse. She frowned and walked over to him, she placed a hand on his lap, slowly he raised his head to meet her eyes, she gave him a smile and he smiled back at her.

   “Well go out later okay?” She promised.

   He nodded.

   He lifted up his legs and Marinette pulled on the heal of his foot, the boot came loose and she went for the other one. With both shoes gone he leaned back on the bed, she lifted the blankets up and threw them over him and once again tucked him into bed.

   “I want you to get better first Adrien…”

   “I know… Could- Could you get my laptop please?”

   She nodded and retrieved the computer from the round dining room table and handed it to him. His fingers got to work and for the first time in her life she saw the tiny black Kwami that never left Chat’s side, the Kwami draped himself around his neck and when Chat needed something he would retrieve it.

   It was entertaining to watch but didn’t help her focus on the music that she was supposed to be memorising the music. She plugged her headphones back in and returned to staring up at the ceiling.

Made for @marichatmay

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[nightmare-afton-cosplay]

Historic Charleston Mansion Effortlessly Mixes Classic Architecture With Modern Touches

realtor.com

Here’s an opportunity to experience historic Charleston, SC—one of the city’s most celebrated residences has landed on the market for the grand price of $13,850,000.

According to a plaque on the grounds, the home was built by the Rev. Paul Trapier Gervais in the early 1830s. It sits on one of the largest residential lots in the city.

The novelist Josephine Pinckney, author of “Three O’Clock Dinner,” was born in the house in 1895, and the property was the original location of the Gaud School for Boys, which operated from 1906 to 1918 in a two-story brick building in the backyard.

Living room with fireplace

realtor.com

The stately mansion measures over 7,800 square feet and has five bedrooms, four baths, and two half-baths.

Five-story historic mansion

realtor.com

Dormer bedroom

realtor.com

Bedroom with fireplace

realtor.com

The brick school building in the backyard is long gone. Instead, you’ll find lush gardens and lawns, grand piazzas overlooking the greenery, an elegant gazebo, a pool and spa, a guesthouse, and a detached three-car garage.

Pool and pool house

realtor.com

One of several piazzas

realtor.com

The main residence has been meticulously updated and restored with an eye toward melding classical architecture with modern-day convenience.

There are traditional light-filled rooms with soaring ceilings, museum-quality wood finishes, and generous proportions. But there’s also a modern kitchen with two islands, two sinks, two dishwashers, a double refrigerator/freezer, a built-in coffee maker, and a double Wolf oven.

Kitchen

realtor.com

Another impressive modern feature is the mud room with lockers, two full-size washers and dryers, and a pet shower.

Mud room

realtor.com

Other spaces throughout the luxe residence include a wine cellar, a den with brick walls and exposed beams, a paneled office, and a velvet-walled library.

Wine cellar

realtor.com

Paneled office

realtor.com

Brick-walled den

realtor.com

The home is located in one of Charleston’s most celebrated historic neighborhoods, called “South of Broad,” where you’ll find Rainbow Row, a collection of pastel-colored,19th-century townhomes.

It’s also the setting for the novel by the same name by celebrated author Pat Conroy.

Verandas overlooking the gardens

realtor.com

Mary Lou Wertz of Hudson Phillips Properties in Charleston is the listing agent.

The post Historic Charleston Mansion Effortlessly Mixes Classic Architecture With Modern Touches appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from https://www.realtor.com/news/unique-homes/historic-charleston-mansion/

[davidoespailla]

Historic Charleston Mansion Effortlessly Mixes Classic Architecture With Modern Touches

realtor.com

Here’s an opportunity to experience historic Charleston, SC—one of the city’s most celebrated residences has landed on the market for the grand price of $13,850,000.

According to a plaque on the grounds, the home was built by the Rev. Paul Trapier Gervais in the early 1830s. It sits on one of the largest residential lots in the city.

The novelist Josephine Pinckney, author of “Three O’Clock Dinner,” was born in the house in 1895, and the property was the original location of the Gaud School for Boys, which operated from 1906 to 1918 in a two-story brick building in the backyard.

Living room with fireplace

realtor.com

The stately mansion measures over 7,800 square feet and has five bedrooms, four baths, and two half-baths.

Five-story historic mansion

realtor.com

Dormer bedroom

realtor.com

Bedroom with fireplace

realtor.com

The brick school building in the backyard is long gone. Instead, you’ll find lush gardens and lawns, grand piazzas overlooking the greenery, an elegant gazebo, a pool and spa, a guesthouse, and a detached three-car garage.

Pool and pool house

realtor.com

One of several piazzas

realtor.com

The main residence has been meticulously updated and restored with an eye toward melding classical architecture with modern-day convenience.

There are traditional light-filled rooms with soaring ceilings, museum-quality wood finishes, and generous proportions. But there’s also a modern kitchen with two islands, two sinks, two dishwashers, a double refrigerator/freezer, a built-in coffee maker, and a double Wolf oven.

Kitchen

realtor.com

Another impressive modern feature is the mud room with lockers, two full-size washers and dryers, and a pet shower.

Mud room

realtor.com

Other spaces throughout the luxe residence include a wine cellar, a den with brick walls and exposed beams, a paneled office, and a velvet-walled library.

Wine cellar

realtor.com

Paneled office

realtor.com

Brick-walled den

realtor.com

The home is located in one of Charleston’s most celebrated historic neighborhoods, called “South of Broad,” where you’ll find Rainbow Row, a collection of pastel-colored,19th-century townhomes.

It’s also the setting for the novel by the same name by celebrated author Pat Conroy.

Verandas overlooking the gardens

realtor.com

Mary Lou Wertz of Hudson Phillips Properties in Charleston is the listing agent.

The post Historic Charleston Mansion Effortlessly Mixes Classic Architecture With Modern Touches appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

Historic Charleston Mansion Effortlessly Mixes Classic Architecture With Modern Touches

[healthylifepage]

SPRING SKIING IN MEGEVE!

I recently had the excellent fortune to visit a charismatic, cozy, alpine bolt-hole named Les Fermes de Marie, nestled within the charming cobblestoned town of Mègeve, high up in the mountains of the French Alps. If you fancy going on a little ‘last-minute spring skiing weekend’, then perhaps read on to discover a little of the magic behind this outstanding traditional mountain destination!

HITTING THE TOWN OF MEGEVE

This ultra-picturesque town runs rich with charming authentic Savoyarde architecture as if you’ve time-warped back to a magical place where you’re riding in a horse-drawn carriage whilst church bells echo around the surrounding mountain shoulders. Unlike many ski resorts, some of which feel as if they were purpose-built in the 1970s, this entire town feels authentic, genuine and understated but is by no means sleepy! There is a pleasing blend of superb slopes, compelling hospitality options, countless boutiques and at the end of the day you can retire to Les Fermes de Marie by the fire in the coziest of chalets with all the modern amenities to make skiing enjoyable, deeply enrobing mattresses and possibly the best mountain spa I’ve encountered.

LES FERMES DE MARIE…

There are nine chalets, forged from reclaimed timber, sprawling across four acres of alpine garden. Whilst people may know Mègeve predominantly for skiing it’s active throughout the whole year, and is perfect as an active escape in summer for hiking and yoga, or likewise as relaxing spa retreat amidst the fresh spring air. The site was founded in 1981 by Jocelyn and Jean-Louis Sibuet, and as the name would suggest, the building was traditionally a farm. Jocelyn’s daughter is called Marie, and she feels it was a lucky name, so has since named many other hotels in their collection after her daughter as well. Jocelyn Sibuet designed Les Fermes de Marie and in many ways pioneered the distinctive chalets style across this region. If you get the chance to visit, you can expect large rustic properties decked in distressed wood from mountain farmhouses, plus beautifully detailed hand-painted ceilings, dim cozy lighting, fluffy fur blankets, and aromatically invigorating log fires all hidden under a blanket of deep snow. Throughout my time, I felt that the service was confident, super friendly and professional but not overbearing; instead, it boasted genuine warm French charm, often notable for its absence in the hospitality industry.

WELLBEING…

This is a place for complete wellbeing. During my stay, I slept plentifully on a vast bed, woke to a classic healthy breakfast, would head out for a full morning of hard skiing, take in the crisp, fresh alpine air scented with pine, grab lunch, dispatch some more skiing and then return to base. The experience leaves you quite drained, but feeling superbly energized.

Megève’s ski domain spans a monstrous 300km of slopes with and 80 perfectly integrated ski lifts within three areas – the Rochebrune Cote 2000, Jaillet and Mont d’Arbois. It’s comfortably suitable for all levels – you’ll find a good mix of green, blue, red and black, such that you should find it hard to get piste-fatigue here within a week! Megève also links the ski areas of Combloux, Saint-Nicolas de Veroce, and Saint Gervais completing the Evasion-Mont Blanc ski area.

BENEFITS OF SKIING?

•THRILL: Skiing as a sport is simultaneously thrilling, exhausting, exhilarating, uplifting, and perilous. If nothing else, it is a workout for all of the emotions! The thrill of tearing down the slopes means worldly troubles could not seem further away; adrenaline and endorphins flow freely in this pursuit!

•CORE BURN: You’re engaging the muscular ‘core’ to stabilize yourself, for hours on the trot. As a result, this activity hones and refines the agility and balance.

•CARDIO: It is a superb aerobic workout; an hour of skiing clocked up c.450 calories of energy consumption for me, though it would be more than double that should you go cross country skiing! Poling along on the flat, something I did quite a fair bit of, is a real leg-burner, and I loved it!

•LEG BURN: The entire leg complex benefits from the lunging and squatting silhouettes adopted during a day’s skiing; the glutes, the quads, the hamstrings and the calves all feel the benefit of moving on plains they rarely otherwise do, and bearing stresses as you go; you feel it after day 1, no matter how much you prep! Likewise, the joints and bones take the impact of the shock absorption required to navigate the piste, so are being strengthened too.

•FLEXIBILITY: Given that you’re constantly stretching and moving at extreme ranges of motion, skiing naturally improves your flexibility as the week goes on.

•MOOD BOOSTING: The mood is elevated; soaring amidst vast majestic mountains just fills you with renewed life. The air is crisp and pure, restoring strength to the lungs and constitution; the colors are divine, with an inky darkness of blue possible only at extreme altitude, cutting deliciously against the fresh white of the groomed snow, and the contenting effect of the sunshine amplifies it all with a sprinkling of vitamin D.

•CONCENTRATION & FOCUS: It’s also a mental workout, focussing the mind on spatial awareness as there’s a complex radar to monitor; other skiers, your own immediate and future path, your speed, pitch, altitude, incline, and overall technique!  It’s a proper challenge for cognitive function.

•REST & RECOVERY: Sleep gets a huge boost, for, at the end of the day, you’re utterly shattered, leaving no alternative but to seek restorative shut-eye!

RESTAURANTS AT LES FERMES DE MARIE…

There are 3 restaurants that I think seem to offer a suitable breadth of flavor for every palate…

1) Restaurant Traditionnel 

Per the name, they serve up traditional Savoyarde cuisine centered around natural local flavors. The dishes work in harmony with the seasons: fish is sourced from local mountain lakes, the herbs are from Les Fermes de Marie’s alpine gardens, fruits and vegetables are grown locally, and cuts of meat are signature Metzger, whilst the cheese platters stem from the master Cheese-monger Boujon.

2) Restaurant Alpin. In summer and autumn, Les Fermes de Marie offers a table d’hôtes in a magical natural setting, high among alpine fields, looking out across the peaks and directly at snow-capped Mont Blanc.

3) Le Bar – A relaxed affair which suits the purpose after a day of skiing; perfect to sit down for a game of chess, read a book or enjoy a hot chocolate in the cozy sofas.

ROOM WISE;

There are a total of 70 rooms and suites, each decorated with the simplicity of the traditional chalet style, and each with its own story, uniquely designed by Jocelyne Sibuet. There is an atmospheric and mysteriously cosy sensation in each of the rooms I visited, quite unlike anywhere else I’ve visited. It all promotes a sense of ease and comfort after a demanding day of exertion!

Pure Altitude Spa at Les Fermes de Marie

To counterbalance the daytime active pursuits, I found 100% Alpine Wellness at the hotel’s spa. It’s a superbly well invested facility with some serious diversity of spa features to keep you coming back in every evening! There are 17 gorgeous spa treatment rooms, an indoor swimming pool surrounded by bay windows opening slopeside, with a choice of indoor or outdoor jacuzzis in which to relax, and likewise, indoor/outdoor saunas. As well as a wet sauna, steam room, Japanese-style Ofuro baths both hot and cold, and a terrace relaxation area looking out across the alpine gardens!

My time here was characterized by an overwhelming sense of ease and comfort, in contrast to my historic memories of skiing of old. There are comforts at every turn, with cozy, family-run individuality running through it as a constant thread. I returned more relaxed than when I left, in spite of the heavy physical activity – a key measure of a worthwhile escape!

Faya x

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SPRING SKIING IN MEGEVE! posted first on yummylooksbest.blogspot.com

[muscledemandsrespect]

SPRING SKIING IN MEGEVE!

I recently had the excellent fortune to visit a charismatic, cozy, alpine bolt-hole named Les Fermes de Marie, nestled within the charming cobblestoned town of Mègeve, high up in the mountains of the French Alps. If you fancy going on a little ‘last-minute spring skiing weekend’, then perhaps read on to discover a little of the magic behind this outstanding traditional mountain destination!

HITTING THE TOWN OF MEGEVE

This ultra-picturesque town runs rich with charming authentic Savoyarde architecture as if you’ve time-warped back to a magical place where you’re riding in a horse-drawn carriage whilst church bells echo around the surrounding mountain shoulders. Unlike many ski resorts, some of which feel as if they were purpose-built in the 1970s, this entire town feels authentic, genuine and understated but is by no means sleepy! There is a pleasing blend of superb slopes, compelling hospitality options, countless boutiques and at the end of the day you can retire to Les Fermes de Marie by the fire in the coziest of chalets with all the modern amenities to make skiing enjoyable, deeply enrobing mattresses and possibly the best mountain spa I’ve encountered.

LES FERMES DE MARIE…

There are nine chalets, forged from reclaimed timber, sprawling across four acres of alpine garden. Whilst people may know Mègeve predominantly for skiing it’s active throughout the whole year, and is perfect as an active escape in summer for hiking and yoga, or likewise as relaxing spa retreat amidst the fresh spring air. The site was founded in 1981 by Jocelyn and Jean-Louis Sibuet, and as the name would suggest, the building was traditionally a farm. Jocelyn’s daughter is called Marie, and she feels it was a lucky name, so has since named many other hotels in their collection after her daughter as well. Jocelyn Sibuet designed Les Fermes de Marie and in many ways pioneered the distinctive chalets style across this region. If you get the chance to visit, you can expect large rustic properties decked in distressed wood from mountain farmhouses, plus beautifully detailed hand-painted ceilings, dim cozy lighting, fluffy fur blankets, and aromatically invigorating log fires all hidden under a blanket of deep snow. Throughout my time, I felt that the service was confident, super friendly and professional but not overbearing; instead, it boasted genuine warm French charm, often notable for its absence in the hospitality industry.

WELLBEING…

This is a place for complete wellbeing. During my stay, I slept plentifully on a vast bed, woke to a classic healthy breakfast, would head out for a full morning of hard skiing, take in the crisp, fresh alpine air scented with pine, grab lunch, dispatch some more skiing and then return to base. The experience leaves you quite drained, but feeling superbly energized.

Megève’s ski domain spans a monstrous 300km of slopes with and 80 perfectly integrated ski lifts within three areas – the Rochebrune Cote 2000, Jaillet and Mont d’Arbois. It’s comfortably suitable for all levels – you’ll find a good mix of green, blue, red and black, such that you should find it hard to get piste-fatigue here within a week! Megève also links the ski areas of Combloux, Saint-Nicolas de Veroce, and Saint Gervais completing the Evasion-Mont Blanc ski area.

BENEFITS OF SKIING?

•THRILL: Skiing as a sport is simultaneously thrilling, exhausting, exhilarating, uplifting, and perilous. If nothing else, it is a workout for all of the emotions! The thrill of tearing down the slopes means worldly troubles could not seem further away; adrenaline and endorphins flow freely in this pursuit!

•CORE BURN: You’re engaging the muscular ‘core’ to stabilize yourself, for hours on the trot. As a result, this activity hones and refines the agility and balance.

•CARDIO: It is a superb aerobic workout; an hour of skiing clocked up c.450 calories of energy consumption for me, though it would be more than double that should you go cross country skiing! Poling along on the flat, something I did quite a fair bit of, is a real leg-burner, and I loved it!

•LEG BURN: The entire leg complex benefits from the lunging and squatting silhouettes adopted during a day’s skiing; the glutes, the quads, the hamstrings and the calves all feel the benefit of moving on plains they rarely otherwise do, and bearing stresses as you go; you feel it after day 1, no matter how much you prep! Likewise, the joints and bones take the impact of the shock absorption required to navigate the piste, so are being strengthened too.

•FLEXIBILITY: Given that you’re constantly stretching and moving at extreme ranges of motion, skiing naturally improves your flexibility as the week goes on.

•MOOD BOOSTING: The mood is elevated; soaring amidst vast majestic mountains just fills you with renewed life. The air is crisp and pure, restoring strength to the lungs and constitution; the colors are divine, with an inky darkness of blue possible only at extreme altitude, cutting deliciously against the fresh white of the groomed snow, and the contenting effect of the sunshine amplifies it all with a sprinkling of vitamin D.

•CONCENTRATION & FOCUS: It’s also a mental workout, focussing the mind on spatial awareness as there’s a complex radar to monitor; other skiers, your own immediate and future path, your speed, pitch, altitude, incline, and overall technique!  It’s a proper challenge for cognitive function.

•REST & RECOVERY: Sleep gets a huge boost, for, at the end of the day, you’re utterly shattered, leaving no alternative but to seek restorative shut-eye!

RESTAURANTS AT LES FERMES DE MARIE…

There are 3 restaurants that I think seem to offer a suitable breadth of flavor for every palate…

1) Restaurant Traditionnel 

Per the name, they serve up traditional Savoyarde cuisine centered around natural local flavors. The dishes work in harmony with the seasons: fish is sourced from local mountain lakes, the herbs are from Les Fermes de Marie’s alpine gardens, fruits and vegetables are grown locally, and cuts of meat are signature Metzger, whilst the cheese platters stem from the master Cheese-monger Boujon.

2) Restaurant Alpin. In summer and autumn, Les Fermes de Marie offers a table d’hôtes in a magical natural setting, high among alpine fields, looking out across the peaks and directly at snow-capped Mont Blanc.

3) Le Bar – A relaxed affair which suits the purpose after a day of skiing; perfect to sit down for a game of chess, read a book or enjoy a hot chocolate in the cozy sofas.

ROOM WISE;

There are a total of 70 rooms and suites, each decorated with the simplicity of the traditional chalet style, and each with its own story, uniquely designed by Jocelyne Sibuet. There is an atmospheric and mysteriously cosy sensation in each of the rooms I visited, quite unlike anywhere else I’ve visited. It all promotes a sense of ease and comfort after a demanding day of exertion!

Pure Altitude Spa at Les Fermes de Marie

To counterbalance the daytime active pursuits, I found 100% Alpine Wellness at the hotel’s spa. It’s a superbly well invested facility with some serious diversity of spa features to keep you coming back in every evening! There are 17 gorgeous spa treatment rooms, an indoor swimming pool surrounded by bay windows opening slopeside, with a choice of indoor or outdoor jacuzzis in which to relax, and likewise, indoor/outdoor saunas. As well as a wet sauna, steam room, Japanese-style Ofuro baths both hot and cold, and a terrace relaxation area looking out across the alpine gardens!

My time here was characterized by an overwhelming sense of ease and comfort, in contrast to my historic memories of skiing of old. There are comforts at every turn, with cozy, family-run individuality running through it as a constant thread. I returned more relaxed than when I left, in spite of the heavy physical activity – a key measure of a worthwhile escape!

Faya x

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[walkerpendley-blog]

Ricky Gervais Claims Did Nothing Wrong At Globes Gala.

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[leswansong]

Marichat May - Kitty Cats & Ballet Shoes

Day Twenty-One: Cold Night

[ A03 ]

   Marinette stared up at the tall mountains, she had her largest and warmest jacket on but it barely held back the cold, she has always been extremely susceptible to the cold and always hated winter because of it. She could see the beauty in the snow but her body couldn’t stand it.

   Chat was typing away furiously at his keyboard trying to find somewhere to stay, she sighed and looked up to the slowly darkening sky.

   Grenoble was nicer than she had expected, they had filed their day with exploring and visiting museums but she knew exploring the museums would end up with them staying the night but she couldn’t complain, it had been years since she had visited the Alps. She had been ten when she had last visited them and her memories from that time had almost faded.

   The coffee shop they were staying it was nice and warm inside but she needed some fresh air, the cold air coming down from the mountains proved helpful and she was able to clear her mind of growing fears. She watched through the large floor to ceiling windows as Chat ordered another set of drinks for them.

   She sighed again before she re-entered the small café. Chat immediately noticed her return.

   “Hey…” Chat said drawing her attention to him, “I can’t find a hotel here but…”

   She put down her cup fully expecting that they might be spending the night in the back of the SUV, “where is it?”

   “Further up the mountain.”

   She smiled, “Okay…” It was a much better outcome than she had been expecting, “How far?”

   “Two hours,” he explained.

   She nodded and pulled her wallet out to pay for the bill, “Well we better get going then.”

   He nodded in return and packed away his laptop while Marinette snatched up her camera from the table.

   Her legs hurt from being stuck in the same position again for another two hours but the view into Saint-Gervais was worth it even in the dark, the moonlight bounced off of the snow-capped peaks lighting up the skyline with a soft silver glow. It was truly an enchanting sight to behold, she wished she had asked Chat to stop just so she could take a proper picture of it but the ones she had taken on her phone seemed to do it justice, her parents and Alya had sent her raving reviews on the photos, Alya’s was a little more confused at the sudden pictures and a little more when she realised her best friend was over five hours away.

   She giggled as even more frantic messages flooded in from her friend, she barely looked up from her phone, her feet just carried her slowly behind Chat and her suitcase rolled on behind her. She followed him to the counter then up the stairs to their floor.

   “What are you laughing at?” Chat asked looking over her shoulder.

   “Alya, she… I didn’t tell her I was going on a holiday so…” her voice trailed off as she nervously adjusted her bag strap on her shoulder.

   “She’s having a mini freak out isn’t she.”

   “Yep,” she replied popping the ‘p’. She could see him smiling out of the corner of her eye.

   “Here we are,” he said slipping the room key into the lock.

   He pushed open the door to reveal a small room, it felt extremely like a cabin but it also had a small hint of a modern feel, a single bed sat in the heart of the room up against a timber feature wall, there was a small two seat sofa up against the right wall and on the left there was a set of French doors that lead out onto a small wooden balcony.

   “Sorry its small,” he apologised.

   “Don’t be,” she replied, “How’d you even get this?”

   The room was extremely nice for something they had gotten last minute.

   “Last minute check out?” he shrugged, “Not sure, didn’t ask but we have it for at least two days.”

   She laughed and set her suitcase down on the bed, she started to unpack a little of her clothes.

   “I’m guessing you’ve planned something for the next few days then?”

   He nodded, “I’m going to go grab some dinner, did you want something in particular?”

   She shook her head.

   He nodded and exited the room leaving her alone to unpack, it was only when she was alone did she realise that there was one bed in the room. She had been ignoring the small crush that was forming for him, she wanted to take things slowly, to test the water and not jump into a pool of cold water unprepared.

   She wished she had someone to talk to at that moment just so she could calm her growing worries, she could call Alya but that would only complicate things, even though her best friend had good intentions, Marinette didn’t think her best friend was the person she could talk to about it, she wanted to talk to Mullo, she missed her very much, too much for something so small and for something that had been in her life for only a short while.

   Her hands instinctively went to where the necklace sat, her fingers brushed against the bare spot of her neck. She shook her head, it was not good to dwell on the memories of the past, she pulled her hand away and headed towards the small balcony, the tall snow-capped mountains were the only thing she could see, the small lights from the houses and cars further down the hill they were sat atop looked like fire fires in comparison to them.

   The Mountains still amazed her and she didn’t think she would ever grow bored of looking at them, she wondered if Chat was planning on going skiing tomorrow, she was never any good at skiing so she hoped that he hadn’t planned that, maybe he had planned on sight-seeing, she could do sight-seeing.

   She sighed and went to investigate the bathroom, a warm shower was something she defiantly needed in that moment.

   Marinette shivered under the many layers of blankets, nothing seemed to keep her warm. Her eyes searched the darkened roof above her, the time on the digital alarm clock displayed the time in a very angry red, one-forty-three am, she yawned and tried to bury her head further into the pillow to force herself to sleep.

   She curled up into a tight ball to try and fight the cold nipping at her toes but her mind wouldn’t let her rest, too many things were swirling around inside her head; mainly about how she was laying, was she too close? Or was she too far? What if she rolled over in the night and accidentally squished him, too many what-ifs for her liking, she was tempted to get up and sleep on the small sofa across from them but he stopped her before she mustered up the courage.

   “Marinette?” Chat asked, his voice was thick with sleep, “Are you okay?”

   She nodded, “I’m- I’m fine,” she replied through chattering teeth, “Go back to sleep.”

   She heard him nod against the pillow and roll over. Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his chest, Marinette felt her body grow warm, whether it was from him or the bright red colour her cheeks had turned she didn’t know, she was just glad that Chat had ignored what she had said in favour of this.

   “You okay now?” he whispered.

   She nodded again and he let out a sigh, his grip around her loosened and soon his soft breathing reached her ears meaning he had already drifted off, she silently laughed at how fast he had fallen back asleep, she wished she could but he had just given her mind a whole heap of other things to worry about.

Made for @marichatmay

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