Sunday, 30 November 2008

27.11.2008 Thursday – Pas de pub

The day dawns bright and sunny with a clear blue, cloudless sky. Whereas, I don’t.
At around half 10 in the morning, I lever myself out of bed and start the washing machine. This could be the last good drying day for a while.
By half 12 I have pegged a load out in the sunshine and checked my post box. Once again the people have thrust the pub (short for publicite i.e. booklets, single sheets, small free newspapers i.e advertising that we have thrust upon us here in France, every week without fail.

You see the hopeful hand written notices taped to post boxes everywhere “pas de pub” they say. This is supposed to stop the posters from filling their post boxes with the deluge of special offers, papers, etc from the various big stores such as Bricomarche, Conforama, Lidl etc. I do not know if this approach works as I look forward to receiving it and looking through it for special bargain offers. Only one newspaper in today’s haul though.
This is a typical week’s worth.

As I bring in the washing a man crosses the road to ask me a question. Yet again it is someone looking for the medecin pedagagogique or some such. I tell him that is that building there and that there is parking. There is no sign, he tells me, Yes I know, I say.
He returns to his car as madam comes huffing down the steps in her pink pyjama style leggings and tee shirt. What is he looking for? She asks. I tell her and explain what I have told him. I am correct she says.
I tell her about the forthcoming crack filling and painting, and she invites me in to her apartment for a coffee. I explain that I have a cold or flu. It does not matter, she says.
I take my washing up and then return down the stairs to her apartment.
Her 12 year old, hugely hairy cat, with its face fur all matted, stalks around on the table top Yuck! She goes to fetch her other cat, an abandoned one which was a kitten last time I saw it. It is no longer small.
She did not notice that S had been to stay and I explain that we had been sorting out my flat. I take her upstairs for a look around. Her face is impassive, so it is impossible to tell what she is thinking.
Not having anticipated a visitor today, all the publicity is still all spread out on the floor, just as in the photo above. “Ah, this is exactly what I do” she says, “I spread mine out on the floor too” How much more French can I get?

After she has gone I reflect on how difficult I found finding French words to say was today. My brain is numb. Tomorrow a doctor’s visit?
In the words of Zebedee from "The magic roundabout" ""Time for bed""

1 comment:

  1. I'm sorry you are still feeling lousy. Hopefully you will wake up a bit healothier in the morning.

    Your neighbour sounds like quite the character!


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