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.

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.

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!!!!

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