To me, an antediluvian, dyed in the wool old Socialist, a double-barreled name is as much a symbol of the class war as is foxhunting. Over here things are different and quite ordinary people have such names.
The other day I was passing the Vets and saw a bloke putting up a new brass plaque and casually strolling by took a sly look. Our Vet, had obviously recently married her partner and had hyphenated his surname to her own.
This covers the whole of french society even our new first lady, Carla Bruni, on her marriage became Carla Bruni-Sarkozy. BUT what happens if two people with double-barreled want to get married, what name(s) do they assume?
Don't worry, as usual here, everything is covered; under new legislation they can adopt any one of the 4 names or any 2 hyphenated together in any order they like
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Water,Water everyhere
Every Saturday the youngest boy and I go down to our little market town and have a drink in Regis's Bar, usually splitting a bottle of local dry white. I usually go inside to order, whilst the boy arranges the dog under a suitable table. When the weathers hot Regis will often bring out a bowl of water for any doggy customer.
Now gold-en-re-triev-ers are water dogs and we quickly found out that she preferred to play with water rather than drink it and that anything other than a heavy earthenware bowl would be instantly tipped and paddled in! Last summer Regis bought out water in an old litre ice cream tubfor the dog. I explained but none the less he left it and over it went. Not too much bother as we were sitting out on the pavement. This happened 2 or 3 times until he got fed up with it.
This year on the first hot day Regis came out with our drinks and a big grin on his face; he'd bought with a new dog bowl but in plastic, 2 laps at the water and over it went, back to the drawing board! Last Saturday we sat under the porch on a tiled area in front of the bar, when I went in to order there was something going on and Mrs Regis brought our drinks out followed by Regis wearing a big get out of that grin and carrying a large plastic washing up bowl full of water. Again 2 laps of water and she grips it by the rim and heaves it over, his face was a picture! and there was water everywhere !
He went back inside and re-appeared with a large sqeegee on a broom handle. Typically another fun game of the dogs is to help with sweeping up or hoovering when she paws at the head making a strange noise between a growl and a whine! Regis joined in the game poking the squeegee at her and saying something like " come on then", which she did, taking three bites out of it. The squeegee looked some thing like this ___m___m___m___
Now gold-en-re-triev-ers are water dogs and we quickly found out that she preferred to play with water rather than drink it and that anything other than a heavy earthenware bowl would be instantly tipped and paddled in! Last summer Regis bought out water in an old litre ice cream tubfor the dog. I explained but none the less he left it and over it went. Not too much bother as we were sitting out on the pavement. This happened 2 or 3 times until he got fed up with it.
This year on the first hot day Regis came out with our drinks and a big grin on his face; he'd bought with a new dog bowl but in plastic, 2 laps at the water and over it went, back to the drawing board! Last Saturday we sat under the porch on a tiled area in front of the bar, when I went in to order there was something going on and Mrs Regis brought our drinks out followed by Regis wearing a big get out of that grin and carrying a large plastic washing up bowl full of water. Again 2 laps of water and she grips it by the rim and heaves it over, his face was a picture! and there was water everywhere !
He went back inside and re-appeared with a large sqeegee on a broom handle. Typically another fun game of the dogs is to help with sweeping up or hoovering when she paws at the head making a strange noise between a growl and a whine! Regis joined in the game poking the squeegee at her and saying something like " come on then", which she did, taking three bites out of it. The squeegee looked some thing like this ___m___m___m___
Friday, July 4, 2008
Rectal Repreive
Today I was supposed to have a biopsy to investigate the possibility of prostate cancer but luck was on my side. At my routine 3 monthly check with the G. P. I asked him to give me a presciption for another blood test, which test showed that that my PSA level had greatly reduced.
When I got to the Consultants and showed him the results he was surprised but said "This is good news; there's no need to do the biopsy" I think he decided it must have been an infection after all and has put me on a 3 week course of heavy antibiotics. Almost a worse result for a piss artist like me because there's very little chance of me stopping drinking for 3 weeks. 3 days would be difficult!
Now I'm hoping that the repreive isn't a temporary one; at first I was quite pleased with myself as I had told the G.P. that the Consultant had asked for the new blood test and the big man that it had been the G.P.s idea, one of my jolly wheezes! Now I'm worrying that I've only put off the inevitable temporarily and what damage could be happening if it is cancer!
When I got to the Consultants and showed him the results he was surprised but said "This is good news; there's no need to do the biopsy" I think he decided it must have been an infection after all and has put me on a 3 week course of heavy antibiotics. Almost a worse result for a piss artist like me because there's very little chance of me stopping drinking for 3 weeks. 3 days would be difficult!
Now I'm hoping that the repreive isn't a temporary one; at first I was quite pleased with myself as I had told the G.P. that the Consultant had asked for the new blood test and the big man that it had been the G.P.s idea, one of my jolly wheezes! Now I'm worrying that I've only put off the inevitable temporarily and what damage could be happening if it is cancer!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Health Matters
Health matters, well it does when things aren't well !! Have got to have a biopsy next week and things don't look too promising. It all started back in 2005 when the Doc added a "PSA" test to my annual blood test, this measures PSA in the blood and is an indicator of prostate problems (the old farts disease!).
That year it was UP so I had to go for a ultra sound scan. You walk into the lab, and there in the corner is this big High-tech machine ticking away, with a screen,keyboard and an instrument tray. Discreetly tucked away in the corner of the tray is this huge prick shaped instrument; one glance is enough to tell you that THAT is going to (shall we say?) go where the sun doesn't shine.
2006 was DOWN; 2007 was UP so another date with destiny! Presumably to offset the discomfort and embarrassment you leave the lab. with the pictures; not a pleasant subject I know but pictures of ones own back passage are difficult to describe but will be familliar to some Townies, especially to those from E and SE London. Imagine the Rotherhythe Tunnel, the oldest,dirtiest,dankest river crossing on a dark,foggy november night and you'll get some idea. BUT I've a jolly wheeze in mind!
The last 2 years DIYing has been finished in minimalistic mode-white walls,white ceilings,white wood and minimal coloured fittings. I'm thinking that the black and white images I've got from my 2005/7 visits to the lab could be framed in simple black surrounds. I'll hang them just inside the front door, in the front passage and when people come in and say "Oh! that's interesting what are they?" I'll say "that's the BACK PASSAGE"
Joking aside, this year the readings are SKY HIGH, hence straight to a biopsy which I am not looking forward to nor am I coping very well with the thought of "probably" (the Doc, not me) of having cancer. I'm thinkng about making a will. I'm laying awake worrying about what will happen to the dog if I croak. I'm really low and despondent. Iused to enjoy walking the dog, as much as for health reasons as doggy needs but can hardly be bothered. I have other even more morbid thoughts but then I realise that the medical dictionarys definition of morbid is "illness" (I think!!)
That year it was UP so I had to go for a ultra sound scan. You walk into the lab, and there in the corner is this big High-tech machine ticking away, with a screen,keyboard and an instrument tray. Discreetly tucked away in the corner of the tray is this huge prick shaped instrument; one glance is enough to tell you that THAT is going to (shall we say?) go where the sun doesn't shine.
2006 was DOWN; 2007 was UP so another date with destiny! Presumably to offset the discomfort and embarrassment you leave the lab. with the pictures; not a pleasant subject I know but pictures of ones own back passage are difficult to describe but will be familliar to some Townies, especially to those from E and SE London. Imagine the Rotherhythe Tunnel, the oldest,dirtiest,dankest river crossing on a dark,foggy november night and you'll get some idea. BUT I've a jolly wheeze in mind!
The last 2 years DIYing has been finished in minimalistic mode-white walls,white ceilings,white wood and minimal coloured fittings. I'm thinking that the black and white images I've got from my 2005/7 visits to the lab could be framed in simple black surrounds. I'll hang them just inside the front door, in the front passage and when people come in and say "Oh! that's interesting what are they?" I'll say "that's the BACK PASSAGE"
Joking aside, this year the readings are SKY HIGH, hence straight to a biopsy which I am not looking forward to nor am I coping very well with the thought of "probably" (the Doc, not me) of having cancer. I'm thinkng about making a will. I'm laying awake worrying about what will happen to the dog if I croak. I'm really low and despondent. Iused to enjoy walking the dog, as much as for health reasons as doggy needs but can hardly be bothered. I have other even more morbid thoughts but then I realise that the medical dictionarys definition of morbid is "illness" (I think!!)
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Back on the Blog again
So I'm back on the blog again after a sort break in sunny Scotland, not taking the piss! it was lovely and sunny; terrible cold wind but OK in shelter. Met up with some old friends and all their family, a special sort of re-union cos he's not well. I think he saw this as a last get together and wanted to pay for everything, this is not the townies way even old farts insist on paying their way!
So I dreamt up this jolly wheeze and said "Look, on the 18th (April) I will have been retired exactly 18 years and 18 days and would like to buy the dinner that night" So thinking this an amazing co-incidence they all agreed; not a one realised that on the 19th next year it will, of course, be 19 yrs and 19 days !!!
We did a bit of walking, but one day it was a bit too steep for me so I said "I'll meet you back in that Belhaven pub we passed, I want to renew my aquaintance with Belhaven Bill" (this a ref. to the only other time I'd been to Scotland and had collected beer mats in the shape of a sailor i.e Belhaven Bill-I think they are still in a box over in the little house!).
I walked into the pub and up to the only real ale pump on the bar to see that it was labled " London Pride, brewed by Fullers in Chiswick" I was born in Shepherds Bush, which is next door to Chiswick !!!!
So I dreamt up this jolly wheeze and said "Look, on the 18th (April) I will have been retired exactly 18 years and 18 days and would like to buy the dinner that night" So thinking this an amazing co-incidence they all agreed; not a one realised that on the 19th next year it will, of course, be 19 yrs and 19 days !!!
We did a bit of walking, but one day it was a bit too steep for me so I said "I'll meet you back in that Belhaven pub we passed, I want to renew my aquaintance with Belhaven Bill" (this a ref. to the only other time I'd been to Scotland and had collected beer mats in the shape of a sailor i.e Belhaven Bill-I think they are still in a box over in the little house!).
I walked into the pub and up to the only real ale pump on the bar to see that it was labled " London Pride, brewed by Fullers in Chiswick" I was born in Shepherds Bush, which is next door to Chiswick !!!!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Demonstrations
As in London there have demonstrations around the Olympic flame in Paris and given that the first parade of the flame was organised by hitler to legitimise the 1936 Games it seems quite appropriate that the chinese would do the same! BUT they have over-shadowed others here in France; the new government, set up by a new President committed to social and finacial reforms, are beginning to announce their spending plans. Or rather cutting plans! Committed to reducing Public Spending they have announced their education plan, which reduces the number of country schools and generally reduces the number of classes and therefore the teachers as well as increasing class size. The whole world is on the march and blockading schools, teachers, parents and students all involved, this closely following protests against the closure of local post offices.
Down on the coast there's trouble too, the government is reducing the number of life-guards by 9000 staff, this wont cause redundancies as they are generally part of the Gendarmery, which in itself is a brigade of the army; they will be redeployed. Seaside towns are seething about beach safety and threatening to close beaches off peak.
There are also cuts in the health service, one of which is that the state national health service no longer fund services related to circulatory problems like say varicose veins. On this one I think the government is on a winner; by the very nature of their complaint it seems unlikely that they will be making protest marches !
Down on the coast there's trouble too, the government is reducing the number of life-guards by 9000 staff, this wont cause redundancies as they are generally part of the Gendarmery, which in itself is a brigade of the army; they will be redeployed. Seaside towns are seething about beach safety and threatening to close beaches off peak.
There are also cuts in the health service, one of which is that the state national health service no longer fund services related to circulatory problems like say varicose veins. On this one I think the government is on a winner; by the very nature of their complaint it seems unlikely that they will be making protest marches !
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
The Battle of the Pharmacies
There's an English comedian who starts his act by shouting "Where would we be if we didn't have ANY rules?" and the audience shouts back "FRANCE!" Nothing could be further from the truth; even the location and number of the corner chemists shop is regulated.
National regulations stipulate that there can be one chemists shop for every 5,000 people and a regional tribunal sits to determine any variations to the population in relation to the number of shops. Recently a village on the other side of Tarbes (our departmental town) applied for and got permission to build a new chemists. An appeal by a chemist in another village went to the tribunal, who re-did their calculations and found they had been mistaken, so they ordered the new chemists to close and close it did! It is of course possible that the tribunal is made up of existing chemists!!!! This is France after all!
I've heard it said that the richest person in a country town is the chemist not the doctor nor the notaire nor local businessmen and I have never seen a tatty chemist shop they always look as though they were re-furbished last week. Under the 5000 rule our canton qualifies for and has 2 chemist shops. One for the 5000 who live in the town and the other for the 5000 in the dozen or so villages spread around it; both are located in the town.
One shop is in centre ville the other is located on the edge of town but right next door to the Doctors group practice, this meant that practically everybody had to pass the second shop with their prescription hot off the printer clutched in their hand. Madame Mathise had also had the presence of mind (or eye for a business oppotunity) to splash out on a piece of land which she made into an off street car park next to her and the Docs. All was going very well for her until the Doctors moved into a new purpose built heath centre on the other side of town; this meant that about 75% of the population had to make a detour IF they were to visit her shop!
All was going very well for Monsieur Duval in the centre ville shop (as you can imagine!). He aquired the shop next door and expanded into it, this must have been an expensive move as his origional shop had very ornate stonework round the doors and windows and this had to be replicated. A comprehensive internal re-furb including new and additional computer stations took place and he even got in an english teacher to teach all his girls "chemists english", to corner that market.
The battle had swung his way (but not for long!) and it's begining to resemble the battle for market share between the big supermarket chains in the UK !!
I (being English I suppose) had always stayed loyal to Madame (except,that is, for Tick Treatment which is vastly more expensive at her place than chez Duval). I have to drive past her place on my way in and out of town so I suppose that makes loyalty relatively easy.
On my way to the Doctors for my 3 month check-up last week I was surprised to see her shop had closed and as I got near to the surgery saw that in a cunning midnight swoop she had relocated to a different shop only 50 yards from the Docs. This seems to have been done in secret, I visit her shop at least monthly and none of her girls had even hinted they might be moving!
Earlier I mentioned computer stations, this is because chemist shops here have them instead of counters. The health system works on a plastic card with a micro chip which is read by these computers
National regulations stipulate that there can be one chemists shop for every 5,000 people and a regional tribunal sits to determine any variations to the population in relation to the number of shops. Recently a village on the other side of Tarbes (our departmental town) applied for and got permission to build a new chemists. An appeal by a chemist in another village went to the tribunal, who re-did their calculations and found they had been mistaken, so they ordered the new chemists to close and close it did! It is of course possible that the tribunal is made up of existing chemists!!!! This is France after all!
I've heard it said that the richest person in a country town is the chemist not the doctor nor the notaire nor local businessmen and I have never seen a tatty chemist shop they always look as though they were re-furbished last week. Under the 5000 rule our canton qualifies for and has 2 chemist shops. One for the 5000 who live in the town and the other for the 5000 in the dozen or so villages spread around it; both are located in the town.
One shop is in centre ville the other is located on the edge of town but right next door to the Doctors group practice, this meant that practically everybody had to pass the second shop with their prescription hot off the printer clutched in their hand. Madame Mathise had also had the presence of mind (or eye for a business oppotunity) to splash out on a piece of land which she made into an off street car park next to her and the Docs. All was going very well for her until the Doctors moved into a new purpose built heath centre on the other side of town; this meant that about 75% of the population had to make a detour IF they were to visit her shop!
All was going very well for Monsieur Duval in the centre ville shop (as you can imagine!). He aquired the shop next door and expanded into it, this must have been an expensive move as his origional shop had very ornate stonework round the doors and windows and this had to be replicated. A comprehensive internal re-furb including new and additional computer stations took place and he even got in an english teacher to teach all his girls "chemists english", to corner that market.
The battle had swung his way (but not for long!) and it's begining to resemble the battle for market share between the big supermarket chains in the UK !!
I (being English I suppose) had always stayed loyal to Madame (except,that is, for Tick Treatment which is vastly more expensive at her place than chez Duval). I have to drive past her place on my way in and out of town so I suppose that makes loyalty relatively easy.
On my way to the Doctors for my 3 month check-up last week I was surprised to see her shop had closed and as I got near to the surgery saw that in a cunning midnight swoop she had relocated to a different shop only 50 yards from the Docs. This seems to have been done in secret, I visit her shop at least monthly and none of her girls had even hinted they might be moving!
Earlier I mentioned computer stations, this is because chemist shops here have them instead of counters. The health system works on a plastic card with a micro chip which is read by these computers
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Muddy La Feet
Last week I introduced Madame Muddy laying into the cattle, this week it's his turn. He's short and stocky,with a ruddy weather-beaten face under a black beret. Everybodies idea of a typical French peasant (not an insulting or derogatory word here; a badge they wear with pride!). Although in his 80s he's only semi retired and seems to spend most of his time standing on the footplate of a tractor driven by Son of Muddy, that's when he's not working on his kitchen garden.
Work on this has been halted by a sudden burst of snow over Easter. There is a local saying which roughly translates as " Xmas on the terrace means Easter round the fire". Proof this year that we've had to pay a price for all the "aperos" we've taken under the winter sun on the back terrace!
I used to think that Muddy with his years of outdoor experience would be very knowledgeable about local weather conditions and used to consult him whenever I saw him. I bought a TV as an aid to learning more French and over a period I began to realise that Muddy was merely repeating the local forecast from the night befores TV.
The first time it snowed here, I asked him did we always get snow in the winter and he said "No! only every 10 years". It snowed again the following year and I spoke with him again and again he said "only every 10 years". I said "You said that last year when it snowed" He said "Ah! but this is the next 10 years"
There haven't been any weekly bulletins for a while but I'm still making slow progress with the weight loss. Monday I was 88.4 kilos up from 88.0 the previous week, no surprise as I ate and drank well over the Easter period. Helped in no little way by the fact the hypermarket had a wine sale that week !! Still no real progress on cutting down on the wine consumption.
Monday, March 17, 2008
All Hands to the Plough
A real burst of early summer at the end of last week,sun and temperatures in the 20s,just right for the start of the ploughing season. They usually get this done in time to start planting the first of the Maize (corn on the cob) at Easter.
The sound of a tractor, quite close, caught my attention and I could see the dog, that connoisseur of all things fecal, standing quivering with excitement in the doorway. Looking out I saw that it was Muddy, our farmer neighbour, muck spreading, on the bit of ground across the lane, that he uses as a sort of kitchen garden. As I stood there he emerged from a great shower of shit with a grin and a cheery wave.
We call him Muddy partly because his farmyard is always a morass of deep slimy black mud but mostly because his name is "Lafitte" ( La Feet); thus Muddy La Feet! Not original, from the Pink Panther I think!
He spends a disproportionate amount of time on the kitchen garden, not I think because of choice but because of the awkward site. It's only about the size of 2 tennis courts and bounded on all sides by barns and fences. He has no hope of getting a modern rigid pole plough onto it and seems to have an interesting collection of 1950s machinery that he uses on it. Even with these he has no room to turn the tractor and has to reverse to start every pass but even so he's currently leaving a generous coating of muck everywhere. The back of his barn is well spread as is the road; hence the dogs excitement as that's the way we walk some evenings!
Some of the kitchen garden is used for veg. but in the main it's planted with maize, for his wifes chickens I think. She's a wonderfull old lady about 4ft. 2ins in her high heels and weighing, at most, 5stone. I occaisionally 'phone her when their cows have escaped and she rushes out, armed with a stick as big as herself, and really lays into them. They are back in the field in no time and these are terrifyingly huge animals with horns like those Texas Longhorns one sees in the cowboy films.
The sound of a tractor, quite close, caught my attention and I could see the dog, that connoisseur of all things fecal, standing quivering with excitement in the doorway. Looking out I saw that it was Muddy, our farmer neighbour, muck spreading, on the bit of ground across the lane, that he uses as a sort of kitchen garden. As I stood there he emerged from a great shower of shit with a grin and a cheery wave.
We call him Muddy partly because his farmyard is always a morass of deep slimy black mud but mostly because his name is "Lafitte" ( La Feet); thus Muddy La Feet! Not original, from the Pink Panther I think!
He spends a disproportionate amount of time on the kitchen garden, not I think because of choice but because of the awkward site. It's only about the size of 2 tennis courts and bounded on all sides by barns and fences. He has no hope of getting a modern rigid pole plough onto it and seems to have an interesting collection of 1950s machinery that he uses on it. Even with these he has no room to turn the tractor and has to reverse to start every pass but even so he's currently leaving a generous coating of muck everywhere. The back of his barn is well spread as is the road; hence the dogs excitement as that's the way we walk some evenings!
Some of the kitchen garden is used for veg. but in the main it's planted with maize, for his wifes chickens I think. She's a wonderfull old lady about 4ft. 2ins in her high heels and weighing, at most, 5stone. I occaisionally 'phone her when their cows have escaped and she rushes out, armed with a stick as big as herself, and really lays into them. They are back in the field in no time and these are terrifyingly huge animals with horns like those Texas Longhorns one sees in the cowboy films.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
89.2, That's a real surprise! Given that 5 out of the last 6 nights have been football nights on the T V and I was unable to resist opening a second bottle on most nights!
That makes it 6.5 Kilos I've lost since I started and that's a stone in avoirdupois (which is the English weight system) and would be a real target to most dieters. Friday I had my routine 3 monthly check-up at the doctors and having lost weight fully expected that my blood pressure would be lower, but no it was higher than normal!
Our little town, down in the valley, lies on one of the main routes for holiday makers heading for the mountains. Traditionaly the winter mid term holiday is two weeks long and is the main skying holiday for the French. In recent years this holiday has been staggered over a 4 week period to reduce the amount of traffic and hopefully the number of accidents. This being France the two regions that access the Pyrenees rather than the Alps for their skiing are carefully staggered so that the full brunt of our region coming home meets the full brunt of the region to the north going on holiday. Whether there is any reduction in accidents is a moot point but it does mean that our little town is mobbed out for 4 consecutive Saturdays. Being 2 hours from the heart of the mountains it's an ideal place to stop for lunch and the restraunters cram in every table they possibly can. This very much interfeers with my regular Saturday drink in Regis Bar so I was pleased to note this morning, the Monday after the end of the holidays, that there had been the first fall of fresh snow since January and the skiers had missed it!!!!
That makes it 6.5 Kilos I've lost since I started and that's a stone in avoirdupois (which is the English weight system) and would be a real target to most dieters. Friday I had my routine 3 monthly check-up at the doctors and having lost weight fully expected that my blood pressure would be lower, but no it was higher than normal!
Our little town, down in the valley, lies on one of the main routes for holiday makers heading for the mountains. Traditionaly the winter mid term holiday is two weeks long and is the main skying holiday for the French. In recent years this holiday has been staggered over a 4 week period to reduce the amount of traffic and hopefully the number of accidents. This being France the two regions that access the Pyrenees rather than the Alps for their skiing are carefully staggered so that the full brunt of our region coming home meets the full brunt of the region to the north going on holiday. Whether there is any reduction in accidents is a moot point but it does mean that our little town is mobbed out for 4 consecutive Saturdays. Being 2 hours from the heart of the mountains it's an ideal place to stop for lunch and the restraunters cram in every table they possibly can. This very much interfeers with my regular Saturday drink in Regis Bar so I was pleased to note this morning, the Monday after the end of the holidays, that there had been the first fall of fresh snow since January and the skiers had missed it!!!!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
89.5 ! What a great result, under 90 kilos for the first time in years. For the first week I managed to reduce my alcohol intake on 4days, albeit by only 25% but combined with not eating in a restaurant it seems to have worked. The other 3 days I was the same loveable, old, greedy, self indulgent,week willed piss head!
I met another dog walker this morning, with a mad eyed,hyper active dog. I said "bonjour" and although French she replied in English. I find it so annoying that they recognise that I'm not French with just one word and switch to English when I'm trying desperately to learn French. It even happens on those rare occasions when the grandchildren drag me into MacDonald's, this slow grin spreads across their pimply adolescent faces and they say "Eat here or take-away!"
I think the instant recognition is due to the different pronunciation, French people seem to say "Bon jaw" with equal weight and length on the 2 syllables where we brits.must say "bon joooor". It is just so frustating.
No matter how I try I just can't seem to get to grips with this language. I've tried 3 or 4 recorded courses over the years and have also been on a language course over in Lourdes. Most of the other students were nuns, mainly Spanish speakers and although I ended up with a nice ornate certificate the course leader spoke Parisian type French. Although this is generally understood in this remote corner it's not a lot of help to me in trying to understand the local patois which sprinkles any conversation here.
I know the only way to learn is the "in at the deep end method!" and this time last year was a regular visitor to two French families. In both cases despite my entreaties to "pass by the house" neither reciprocated the visits. I used to pop into pass by both their houses at early lunch time, usually in time for a quick apero but the first familly said that time was a bit inconvienient why didn't I pass by the house at 5 o'clock or so. I didn't take up that suggestion as I've usually had a good drink at lunch time and don't like to drive in those circumstances. i'm my own worst enemy
I met another dog walker this morning, with a mad eyed,hyper active dog. I said "bonjour" and although French she replied in English. I find it so annoying that they recognise that I'm not French with just one word and switch to English when I'm trying desperately to learn French. It even happens on those rare occasions when the grandchildren drag me into MacDonald's, this slow grin spreads across their pimply adolescent faces and they say "Eat here or take-away!"
I think the instant recognition is due to the different pronunciation, French people seem to say "Bon jaw" with equal weight and length on the 2 syllables where we brits.must say "bon joooor". It is just so frustating.
No matter how I try I just can't seem to get to grips with this language. I've tried 3 or 4 recorded courses over the years and have also been on a language course over in Lourdes. Most of the other students were nuns, mainly Spanish speakers and although I ended up with a nice ornate certificate the course leader spoke Parisian type French. Although this is generally understood in this remote corner it's not a lot of help to me in trying to understand the local patois which sprinkles any conversation here.
I know the only way to learn is the "in at the deep end method!" and this time last year was a regular visitor to two French families. In both cases despite my entreaties to "pass by the house" neither reciprocated the visits. I used to pop into pass by both their houses at early lunch time, usually in time for a quick apero but the first familly said that time was a bit inconvienient why didn't I pass by the house at 5 o'clock or so. I didn't take up that suggestion as I've usually had a good drink at lunch time and don't like to drive in those circumstances. i'm my own worst enemy
Monday, February 25, 2008
Fat Old Fart (Weekly Bulletin)
92.3 Another disasterous week ! Up half a kilo AGAIN!
I spent a couple of days in Bordeaux last week,self-indulging on Paté, Steak and Chips and Goats Cheese, all washed down with St Emilion and breakfasting on copious "petits viennois"
The reason for visiting was to watch the "Girondins" play football in the EUFA Cup. I didn't make all the fuss I did in going to watch Toulouse before Xmas. I just went to the ticket agency in the local hyper market and got a match ticket and booked a hotel on the internet and it all went perfectly. Except that Bordeaux lost the game and were elimunated from the competition.
The first game I went to, Toulouse lost and were eliminated and now Bordeaux; I'm begining to think I might be bit of a JINX. There's only one French team left in the competition and that's Marseille, lucky for them they are just too far away for me to go to their next game.
I spent a couple of days in Bordeaux last week,self-indulging on Paté, Steak and Chips and Goats Cheese, all washed down with St Emilion and breakfasting on copious "petits viennois"
The reason for visiting was to watch the "Girondins" play football in the EUFA Cup. I didn't make all the fuss I did in going to watch Toulouse before Xmas. I just went to the ticket agency in the local hyper market and got a match ticket and booked a hotel on the internet and it all went perfectly. Except that Bordeaux lost the game and were elimunated from the competition.
The first game I went to, Toulouse lost and were eliminated and now Bordeaux; I'm begining to think I might be bit of a JINX. There's only one French team left in the competition and that's Marseille, lucky for them they are just too far away for me to go to their next game.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Global Warming
It may have been noticed that I flit back and forward to the UK fairly frequently. These days I allways use one of the budget airlines because these are so easily available and cheap. Previously I travelled by car and ferry.
Envirementalists probably would frown on my current contribution to Global Warming, but they don't know the half of it.
This largely unknown area of France centres on the town of Tarbes, which prides itself on two local products. One is the black pig, which is a bit like those asian pot-bellied pigs, the other is "Tarbaise" beans. This latter is a large white haricot bean which is prepared with carrots and a light tomatoe sauce and preserved in goose greese (I shall try to append the actual recipe later).
Unfortuneately, as with everything these days, a cheaper supply is taking over and they are now being shipped in from Argentina. Lower in cost but at the expense of considerable air or sea miles which contributes to Global Warming !
I share part of the guilt by eating these things, with great relish, this I have to conceed to the environmentalists; but they dont know the half of it!
These beans have a serious effect on my digestive tract, seemingly much worse than any other type of bean, causing copious amounts of pungent methane gas to be ejected, Which is probably a greater threat to the ozone layer than all the air/sea miles racked up in getting the raw materials to my plate.
Envirementalists probably would frown on my current contribution to Global Warming, but they don't know the half of it.
This largely unknown area of France centres on the town of Tarbes, which prides itself on two local products. One is the black pig, which is a bit like those asian pot-bellied pigs, the other is "Tarbaise" beans. This latter is a large white haricot bean which is prepared with carrots and a light tomatoe sauce and preserved in goose greese (I shall try to append the actual recipe later).
Unfortuneately, as with everything these days, a cheaper supply is taking over and they are now being shipped in from Argentina. Lower in cost but at the expense of considerable air or sea miles which contributes to Global Warming !
I share part of the guilt by eating these things, with great relish, this I have to conceed to the environmentalists; but they dont know the half of it!
These beans have a serious effect on my digestive tract, seemingly much worse than any other type of bean, causing copious amounts of pungent methane gas to be ejected, Which is probably a greater threat to the ozone layer than all the air/sea miles racked up in getting the raw materials to my plate.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
91.7 ! OOPS! A gain of half a kilo!
Bit of a hiccup, but to be expected as I've been back in the UK for a few days, enjoying an orgy of gluttony and self-indulgence. No salatious revelations I'm afraid, merely a confession of swilling copious amounts of Courage Directors Bitter and Pub Food in and around the beautiful county of Kent.
Because of the drink/drive laws Country Pubs tend more and more to concetrate on food and some we tried were of this new breed of "Gastro-Pubs", which serve up-market trendy restaurant style food. Here follows a guide for your average Townie, who might venture into the green belt or further, in search of sustinance on how to recognise a "Gastro-Pub":-
(1) They are surround by at least an acre of neatly marked out asphalt
(2) Starters cost from £8.95 and main courses £14.95. I think the .95 is key here but further research is necessary.
(3) Instead of chips being scooped onto your plate, 4 chips are laid neatly side by side and then another 4 laid neatly at right angles on top of these and then another 4 in the same direction as the bottom layer
Bit of a hiccup, but to be expected as I've been back in the UK for a few days, enjoying an orgy of gluttony and self-indulgence. No salatious revelations I'm afraid, merely a confession of swilling copious amounts of Courage Directors Bitter and Pub Food in and around the beautiful county of Kent.
Because of the drink/drive laws Country Pubs tend more and more to concetrate on food and some we tried were of this new breed of "Gastro-Pubs", which serve up-market trendy restaurant style food. Here follows a guide for your average Townie, who might venture into the green belt or further, in search of sustinance on how to recognise a "Gastro-Pub":-
(1) They are surround by at least an acre of neatly marked out asphalt
(2) Starters cost from £8.95 and main courses £14.95. I think the .95 is key here but further research is necessary.
(3) Instead of chips being scooped onto your plate, 4 chips are laid neatly side by side and then another 4 laid neatly at right angles on top of these and then another 4 in the same direction as the bottom layer
Monday, February 4, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
91.2, WHAT A RESULT ! But is it too good to be true?
Last week-end I splashed out 10 euros on a state of the art, high tech. digital weighing machine (made in china of course!) and by coincidence have lost more than 2 kilos in the same week. I don't trust all this new technology and refuse to own even a mobile phone,although this is on the basis that I refuse to put my glasses on to answer the phone.
The other day a woman from the health insurance company phoned to check a few details, including my mobile phone number; when I said that I didn't own one she said I must be the only person in the world not to have one. Being french she didn't just say world (monde) she said "monde entire" (the whole world); they can't resist a bit of drama!
Last week-end I splashed out 10 euros on a state of the art, high tech. digital weighing machine (made in china of course!) and by coincidence have lost more than 2 kilos in the same week. I don't trust all this new technology and refuse to own even a mobile phone,although this is on the basis that I refuse to put my glasses on to answer the phone.
The other day a woman from the health insurance company phoned to check a few details, including my mobile phone number; when I said that I didn't own one she said I must be the only person in the world not to have one. Being french she didn't just say world (monde) she said "monde entire" (the whole world); they can't resist a bit of drama!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
What Am I Doing Here
In a previous post we'd arrived in the foothills of the Pyrenees to start house hunting in earnest, there wasn't much in our price range as we were looking for a renovation project but also adequate living accommodation. We fell between the price of derelict properties (of which there were many) and new or renovated property,perhaps a partial renovation or a place renovated in the 50s or 60s (of which there weren't many!) We had previously renovated a week-end cottage and my late wife refused "to go to bed by ladder for months on end!" I conceed that although an enthusiastic DIYer I do tend to start other projects before the current one is fully completed.
In France estate agents always drive potential clients to view the properties, this seems at first sight to be a polite and usefull service, the reality of course is that they want to prevent purchaser and vendor from getting together to do a private deal and depriving them of their commission!
Our first agent had a sign in the window "Enlish Spoken" their spelling not mine! A far cry from today when every agent has access to an English speaker and in this case even futher as "English Spoken" was the estate agents wife. She was in hospital, literally with her knees in the stirrups, about to give birth. As soon as he realised we weren't interested in his top price book, he shot off to do the modern mans thing and left us in the hands of the fat lady. The fat lady in the Fiat Panda, most of it! There seemed little room left for us!
At this point we made a near fatal mistake! Thinking it good sense, I sat in the front on the basis that my "O" level French (circa 1956) would afford some small degree of communication. I forgot that french people need to look you in the eye to talk to you and that women are likely to address other women on the subject of kitchens and similar facilities! So there we were crammed into a tiny car hurtling along country lanes with the fat lady turning round to talk to the wife in the back seat about the delux kitchen features in the next property!
We survived the experience, lesson learnt but didn't find a suitable place. We were passed down the line to the next estate agent where we met Yolande d'Artagnon. No relation to the great musketeer but her family came from the same village as HIS mum. The "d" or "de" means from and I have visited Artagnon and seen the plaque on the wall !
Meeting Yolande was a stroke of luck, although she spoke no English she had the unusual ability to shout slowly, this being the method by which I had been taught my "O" level french (circa 1956), communication was established!
In France estate agents always drive potential clients to view the properties, this seems at first sight to be a polite and usefull service, the reality of course is that they want to prevent purchaser and vendor from getting together to do a private deal and depriving them of their commission!
Our first agent had a sign in the window "Enlish Spoken" their spelling not mine! A far cry from today when every agent has access to an English speaker and in this case even futher as "English Spoken" was the estate agents wife. She was in hospital, literally with her knees in the stirrups, about to give birth. As soon as he realised we weren't interested in his top price book, he shot off to do the modern mans thing and left us in the hands of the fat lady. The fat lady in the Fiat Panda, most of it! There seemed little room left for us!
At this point we made a near fatal mistake! Thinking it good sense, I sat in the front on the basis that my "O" level French (circa 1956) would afford some small degree of communication. I forgot that french people need to look you in the eye to talk to you and that women are likely to address other women on the subject of kitchens and similar facilities! So there we were crammed into a tiny car hurtling along country lanes with the fat lady turning round to talk to the wife in the back seat about the delux kitchen features in the next property!
We survived the experience, lesson learnt but didn't find a suitable place. We were passed down the line to the next estate agent where we met Yolande d'Artagnon. No relation to the great musketeer but her family came from the same village as HIS mum. The "d" or "de" means from and I have visited Artagnon and seen the plaque on the wall !
Meeting Yolande was a stroke of luck, although she spoke no English she had the unusual ability to shout slowly, this being the method by which I had been taught my "O" level french (circa 1956), communication was established!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
NO GREAT CHANGE ! Perhaps I've lost another half kilo but with an old farts gut it's a bit difficult to see down to between the big toes.
Was out to lunch on Saturday and pigged out on both bread and paté and bread and cheese ! The main course was Steak and Chips which I was really looking forward to, as every time I try to cook steak it's as tough as old boots.Disappointingly we had new boots and chips!
This week I've started walking the dog in the afternoon as well as morning, more exercise but will it burn off many more calories? No real success in reducing alcohol intake, the last few days have been beautifully sunny at mid-day and taking an appero on the back terrace is fatal. Sitting in the sun,sipping wine whilst gazing across the verdant,rolling foothills to the mighty snow-capped mountains dominating the horizon; there's no way I can stop at one!!
Was out to lunch on Saturday and pigged out on both bread and paté and bread and cheese ! The main course was Steak and Chips which I was really looking forward to, as every time I try to cook steak it's as tough as old boots.Disappointingly we had new boots and chips!
This week I've started walking the dog in the afternoon as well as morning, more exercise but will it burn off many more calories? No real success in reducing alcohol intake, the last few days have been beautifully sunny at mid-day and taking an appero on the back terrace is fatal. Sitting in the sun,sipping wine whilst gazing across the verdant,rolling foothills to the mighty snow-capped mountains dominating the horizon; there's no way I can stop at one!!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
SUCESS, I'VE LOST 2 KILOS! AMAZING!
And I re-weighed today to check it!
This is too good to be true as all I've achieved is to give up bread, cut down significantly on potatos and eat more veg. I'm making clear vegetable soup for lunch (no bread) and having more veg. at dinner instead of potato. I'm farting like a Methane Gas factory!
Still no real inroads on the alcohol side, although today I tried drinking lager, from wine glasses as my lunch time appero. so was able to substitute a small bottle of beer for a half bottle of wine.
And I re-weighed today to check it!
This is too good to be true as all I've achieved is to give up bread, cut down significantly on potatos and eat more veg. I'm making clear vegetable soup for lunch (no bread) and having more veg. at dinner instead of potato. I'm farting like a Methane Gas factory!
Still no real inroads on the alcohol side, although today I tried drinking lager, from wine glasses as my lunch time appero. so was able to substitute a small bottle of beer for a half bottle of wine.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Pulling Power
Last week I was back in the UK, attending my old firms annual reunion. The best bit was getting down the pub afterwards and meeting up with all the other contemporary Old Farts. Even better was, that whilst there, I pulled a bird !!
"The bird" was the young(ish) lady that organises all the office catering and it was a great feeling walking out of there and seeing the covert but envious glances that followed me. I could almost see some of them thinking, " he's lost none of that old pulling power from 40 odd years ago when, as a young blade, he was running amok in the typist pool".
The reality, that I'm not telling them, was that I was sitting near the end of a table when she came and sat next to me, nudged me in the ribs and whispered in my ear "You're coming home with me tonight!"
That proved to be the highlight of the evening, indeed the night! We duly arrived at her place, opened a bottle of white wine and repaired to the front room carpet for an orgy of snogging, groping and "you must listen to this " romantic music. These physical activities I am now little suited to by way of age and somewhat portly bearing and as a way of relieving my discomfort casually edged toward the sofa for lumbar support. As I writhed in a combination of sexual foreplay and acute discomfort I somehow managed to activate the foot-rest mode of the sofa. Every time I moved a great leather bound shelf shot out and rammed me in the kidneys,to add even more to my discomfort.
Later (it seemed MUCH later) she disappeared into the bathroom for several minutes and returned clad in neck to ankle black pyjamas, rather like a jogging suit. I didn't find this off-putting in the least as I had heard that horizontal jogging was, as well as being sexually satisfying, extremely beneficial to cardio-vascular health. We retired to the bedroom and to bed.
As I edged over to her side I looked down expecting to find myself in an advanced state of sexual excitement, but nothing! All I saw was a limp,flaccid little stump of flesh and felt not the slightest of stirrings in the loins. I desperately tried to think of an amusing explanation when she said " God I feel terrible! The rooms spinning and I feel sick!" SAVED!
I settled down for the night and soon fell asleep. Not for long because, in the dead of night, the duvet was throw back and a giant electric fan on the bedside table switch to full blast. Yes the dreaded hot flushes! I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, as though in a wind tunnel, with my finger nails dug deep into the mattress to save being blown off the bed. A bad night with three such attacks!
In the morning your correspondent made his excuses and left!!! (with apologies to the News of the World)
I've thought about this, my first sexual encounter since my wife died five years ago, a lot and edited in these thoughts. Senility in old farts is often called "second childhood", I don't feel I am that old but have come to the conclusion that I am in fact suffering from "second virgin-hood".
I AM A 68 YEAR OLD VIRGIN!
"The bird" was the young(ish) lady that organises all the office catering and it was a great feeling walking out of there and seeing the covert but envious glances that followed me. I could almost see some of them thinking, " he's lost none of that old pulling power from 40 odd years ago when, as a young blade, he was running amok in the typist pool".
The reality, that I'm not telling them, was that I was sitting near the end of a table when she came and sat next to me, nudged me in the ribs and whispered in my ear "You're coming home with me tonight!"
That proved to be the highlight of the evening, indeed the night! We duly arrived at her place, opened a bottle of white wine and repaired to the front room carpet for an orgy of snogging, groping and "you must listen to this " romantic music. These physical activities I am now little suited to by way of age and somewhat portly bearing and as a way of relieving my discomfort casually edged toward the sofa for lumbar support. As I writhed in a combination of sexual foreplay and acute discomfort I somehow managed to activate the foot-rest mode of the sofa. Every time I moved a great leather bound shelf shot out and rammed me in the kidneys,to add even more to my discomfort.
Later (it seemed MUCH later) she disappeared into the bathroom for several minutes and returned clad in neck to ankle black pyjamas, rather like a jogging suit. I didn't find this off-putting in the least as I had heard that horizontal jogging was, as well as being sexually satisfying, extremely beneficial to cardio-vascular health. We retired to the bedroom and to bed.
As I edged over to her side I looked down expecting to find myself in an advanced state of sexual excitement, but nothing! All I saw was a limp,flaccid little stump of flesh and felt not the slightest of stirrings in the loins. I desperately tried to think of an amusing explanation when she said " God I feel terrible! The rooms spinning and I feel sick!" SAVED!
I settled down for the night and soon fell asleep. Not for long because, in the dead of night, the duvet was throw back and a giant electric fan on the bedside table switch to full blast. Yes the dreaded hot flushes! I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, as though in a wind tunnel, with my finger nails dug deep into the mattress to save being blown off the bed. A bad night with three such attacks!
In the morning your correspondent made his excuses and left!!! (with apologies to the News of the World)
I've thought about this, my first sexual encounter since my wife died five years ago, a lot and edited in these thoughts. Senility in old farts is often called "second childhood", I don't feel I am that old but have come to the conclusion that I am in fact suffering from "second virgin-hood".
I AM A 68 YEAR OLD VIRGIN!
Fat Old Fart (weekly bulletin)
NO CHANGE
Only weak-willed self indulgent greed to report, WHY can't I leave the wine alone or even reduce it??????
At least my pathetic attempts at reducing my calorie intake have prevented any increase in my weight !
Only weak-willed self indulgent greed to report, WHY can't I leave the wine alone or even reduce it??????
At least my pathetic attempts at reducing my calorie intake have prevented any increase in my weight !
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The Nuclear Debate
On my way back from a short visit to the UK I note that the government have announced a new energy policy that includes an expansion of Nuclear powered electricity generation. As a long term supporter of CND and having watched the first Aldermarston march pass by nearly 50 years ago I feel adequately qualified to comment on this subject.
I also have the experience of living in a country which generates nearly 75% of its electricity from Nuclear power and like all the population have been made aware of the emergency procedures that would click into effect in the event of a "Nuclear Incident". This is an interesting phrase which I suppose is a coverall for Nuclear Accident through to Nuclear Terrorism!
These emergency procedures are based on the local town hall (accurately the Mayors Office) which is required to test the emergency siren once a month at a specific time. If this should go off in earnest, we are to make our way to the Town Hall, in specific order; mothers with young children, pregnant women and then adults. (Old Farts don't seem to get a mention here). A stock of anti-radiation tablets are held there.
Of course, in our village, the timing of a Nuclear Incident is fairly critical on account of the fact that the Town Hall is only open for 2 hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays
I also have the experience of living in a country which generates nearly 75% of its electricity from Nuclear power and like all the population have been made aware of the emergency procedures that would click into effect in the event of a "Nuclear Incident". This is an interesting phrase which I suppose is a coverall for Nuclear Accident through to Nuclear Terrorism!
These emergency procedures are based on the local town hall (accurately the Mayors Office) which is required to test the emergency siren once a month at a specific time. If this should go off in earnest, we are to make our way to the Town Hall, in specific order; mothers with young children, pregnant women and then adults. (Old Farts don't seem to get a mention here). A stock of anti-radiation tablets are held there.
Of course, in our village, the timing of a Nuclear Incident is fairly critical on account of the fact that the Town Hall is only open for 2 hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays
Friday, January 4, 2008
2008- The Great Flu Epidemic
Last Sunday I had used the excuse of pretend flu to avoid a New Years Eve Party and had been told on Monday that Jean-Claude wasn't well. A couple of days later I met him out walking the dog, or rather I heard him coughing, spluttering and wheezing long before I met him. He looked a terrible state eyes watering, nose running and as grey as an unwashed sheet.
He told me that his wife, if anything, was even worse than he and some of his family seemed to be going down with the same bug; the inference clearly was that Andrew had passed on his germs and was the source of the impending epidemic. Back home we got considerable amusement from the coincidence.
How often do our little fabrications catch up with us? What the Jolly Wheeze hadn't taken into account was that after the visitors had left he would want to return the borrowed heater, which he offered to do this morning! Non, Non I shouted, thinking if he comes round and sees Andrew prancing around like a young gazelle, he's going to be suspicious that we'd lied about going to the party. Now I'm in this dilemma as to how long Andrews flu can last.
In a quirk of poetic justice I've got the beginings of a runny nose and sore throat; am I going down with the germ they've got?
He told me that his wife, if anything, was even worse than he and some of his family seemed to be going down with the same bug; the inference clearly was that Andrew had passed on his germs and was the source of the impending epidemic. Back home we got considerable amusement from the coincidence.
How often do our little fabrications catch up with us? What the Jolly Wheeze hadn't taken into account was that after the visitors had left he would want to return the borrowed heater, which he offered to do this morning! Non, Non I shouted, thinking if he comes round and sees Andrew prancing around like a young gazelle, he's going to be suspicious that we'd lied about going to the party. Now I'm in this dilemma as to how long Andrews flu can last.
In a quirk of poetic justice I've got the beginings of a runny nose and sore throat; am I going down with the germ they've got?
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