F’s birthday

At 11:55 am I headed back down the road clutching flowers and a birthday card. It was to be a small gathering< None of her children were coming down from Paris Madame was in Paris, and someone else who was due to turn up didn’t come and didn’t phone to cancel. Their next door neighbour, a blonde ex-model who was very, very shy might appear later for a piece of birthday cake if she could be coaxed out of her flat. That left me, F, her bloke J-M and a couple who had driven down from Toulouse.
We had the usual aperitif and then our main course.

It took some time for the Toulouse couple to believe that we would be able to communicate in French, but eventually they relaxed.

F asked casually if I had a headache when I had woken up in the morning. I replied that I hadn’t. They were both suffering after the apero the previous evening. (light-weights)

F loves Michel Sardou, so the television had to be on as there was a special programme on about him. She is even going all the way to Toulouse to see him in concert, early next year.

F with the lovely Michel Sardou

Every so often we had to sing “Appy-Burfdae” just to remind us why we were all there I suppose. F had asked me to record the event for posterity, so I had taken my camera along.

The time for cake arrived and the timide neighbour was fetched. Now I’m no expert on shy people, but she did not seem to be shy at all. In fact she took charge of lighting the sparklers on the cake. She makes a living online, selling potions for slimmers. She had at least one tattoo on show too.

The neighbour didn’t stay long, but took a plate of cous-cous away with her to eat later. I noticed that she ate hardly any of her cake.
As is often the case when people of a certain age get together, various medical conditions were discussed. F has a bit of diabetes, Mrs Toulouse has a lot of diabetes, heart operations, knee problems, feet problems, the list was endless. It became obvious that Mrs T was going to win hands down in the debilitating illness stakes even if it was F's birthday. F had only one escape route. "Appy-Burfdae 2 YOO”

F was looking after Madame’s dog (as Madame was away). Lou-loo had made a futile bid for freedom by escaping under the fence, but she had not realised that the long lead that she was on, would prevent her from getting farm. Getting back was also not going to be easy.

I cannot remember what time I set off back home. The Toulouse couple had gone. There was talk that I must stay for an evening meal, but I could not have eaten another thing.
So F enjoyed her birthday. Just before I left, F said that as Madame had missed the birthday, there was to be another meal the following weekend. Le rosbif, and that I was to come along to that too.....

27 Sept 2008 Saturday Clubs and societies fair

Another bad night’s sleep but it is a sunny day. I am running out of lemsips and today is the foire des associations. At about 11am I head for the front door but start coughing a lot so I sit down for a while and listen to an Audible audio book. I am starving so I heat up the remains of last nights evening meal.
There is a bunch of brightly coloured balloons tied to a lamppost outside the house across the road. There is also a big piece of grey card propped up against their driveway gates. It reads “Elise a dix ans”. From this I deduce that one of the children across the road, a girl, is ten years old today. In the afternoon several cars arrive and disgorge children clutching parcels. Before the guests arrive Elise comes out of her garden, looks at the balloons and at the notice, then removes the notice and takes it away. A lot of shrieking and chanting comes from their garden behind the house during the course of the next few hours.

Eventually at 2.15pm I gird up my loins and enter the world of sunlight. From being cold, I am now too hot, but I need drugs so I carry on to the nearest pharmacie in the old quarter. Of course this is France, so the pharmacie closes at noon on Saturdays. I find another 2 pharmacies with similar hours but finally find one open at the edge of town. It would help if the closed chemists switched off their flashing green cross signs.
I get some capsules, 1 to be taken at regular intervals 4 times a day. These are supposed to reduce the fever, stop the runny nose etc etc. I also get a packet containing 2 small tubes, which in turn each contain 10 tablets to suck at no less than 2 hour intervals. I part with approx £10 and take my first tablets.

The pavement cafes are buzzing, but the streets are almost deserted. I head across to the location of the rows of plastic kiosks which are housing the clubs.
There is a trout fishing tank with a few fish swimming in it, and I watch as young girl catches a fish at the trout fishing club tank. A member of the club takes the fish off the hook and throws it back into the tank ready to be caught again. Not a fish rights protester in sight!










There is a cycling club, pensioners club, martial arts clubs, cancer society, hip hop club, board games club, cycling, volleyball, Esperanto!!!, rambling, a making things out of things club all sorts of good causes clubs, as well as our choir. I am surprised that the local camera club is not there, and none of the tango, ballroom etc dance clubs that I know exist having seen posters for them. (The newspaper a few days later that there were over 80 clubs in town)
Of course the event is pretty chaotic. The judo kids push and chase each other about on the mats with nobody keeping them in order. It would not be like this in the UK martial arts club, where strict discipline is expected at all times whilst in uniform and certainly whilst on the mats. Photo before the chaos took over.







Most of the clubs reps hide behind their tables and do not take any active part in recruiting new members, which is what it is all supposed to be about at the end of the day.
I stand at some of the stalls and look at leaflets, video screens etc but only one lady speaks to me. She is very polite, but once she realises that I am English she assumes that I don’t live in France and therefore of little use to their society. She gives me a couple of leaflets..


The ship from the summer spectacle we went to in August.









I take a few photos and head back home walking directly into the sun on the final stretch of road. Boy am I hot, and not in the usual way.
I go for a sleep for just over an hour and wake just after 5pm.I do not feel at all well. Worse in fact than before I took the new wonder drugs.
The rest of the evening is spent eating my evening meal and learning on French TV that Paul Newman has died. I also write up my blog and transfer today’s pics from the camera. I look at the Strictly come dancing website, but as I am not accessing the internet in the UK I am unable to access last weeks episode or any of the trailers.
Roll on tomorrow