What’s new pussycat?

Since January a lot has changed. I still have my 2 tenants. Madame has erected a huge pergola on her terrace and had purchased chairs and an extremely heavy table (mosaic tiles on top of a concrete table top). There are strips of cloth, weighted at each end that can be draped over the pergola to provide shade. Due to the weather this summer though, a month of constant rain, followed by a month of rain or temperatures between 90 – 100 degrees F, here new ensemble has hardly been used. She recently acquired a bicycle, which is now kept in the hall cupboard inside the main part of my building. She has not used it as she is too fatigue, and as she recently fell over and injured her legs, it is likely that the bike will stay blocking up my cupboard. I doubt if she will purchase a storage box to keep it on her cluttered terrace. The Portuguese man arrived back from his holiday early on Friday morning. He too seems to have acquired a bicycle which he keeps in his studio on the first floor.
The French family that I used to go on outing with, or to their house for BBQ’s and for crepes etc have put their house on the market and moved to a small town 3.5 hours drive from here. After 2 years of unemployment Monsieur a short fixed term contract, which he hopes might be made permanent, so the family of 5 has all been uprooted to go and live in a small apartment with no garden.
I may have mentioned that I don’t intend to join the choir this year. I feel in need of a rest from it. I had not been enjoying it and as my move to France has been a life change, why do things that you are not enjoying if you can avoid it.
This past choral year was a nightmare as far as I was concerned. I cannot write too much here about the many reasons I have as there is always a chance that my blog will be stumbled upon, and there are French people who speak a fair bit of English. The last straw for me was when the choir’s public performances were announced about 5 weeks before the first concert. By that time I had already found other things to do on those dates. I must state that the choir members are lovely, friendly people and I will miss their company.
Now I have my guitar, choir time may be replaced by guitar lessons if my newly arrived CDrom course doesn’t move me along towards guitar god status.

Tenants – Gawd bless ‘em

Mason man still has no electricity in his flat. This does not really matter much as he seems to have vanished taking everything with him last Saturday afternoon. He has also removed his name from his post box. As far as I can tell he has not paid any rent since October. His next rent day is the 22nd of December so it will be interesting to see if any money comes in to my account then.
There is still a pair of his work boots under the steps outside. There used to be two pairs there.
I sent an email to the lettings agency about two weeks ago, after I saw him putting his television and various bits of furniture into an old car. The car battery was knackered so it wouldn’t start and he had to push it backwards onto the main road and then push it down the road to get the engine started.
I got an email back from the agency saying that they had not heard anything from him, but that they would let me know if they did hear from him. Nothing quite like having a proactive team looking after your lettings.
In France it is illegal to put tenants out into the street from some time in October until about spring the following year, so even if he doesn’t pay any rent I can do nothing about it.
The flat does not bring in much money per month, but a little is better than nothing at all....

Smelly boots and Bee-boy’s parents

After the departure of Bee-boy, I redecorated the apartment. Stripping off the old wallpaper, painting the ceiling etc, etc. The old plaques electriques were buggered and tripped the electrics if switched on. Casting my mind back to when the previous 2 tenants (the tree-fellers) lived there , there was a bang and a smell of smoke one day. .....

Bee boy had always used his portable 2 ring gas stove and his portable ovens for cooking so I did not find out about the problem until the day he left.
I bought a proper electric cooker with oven and got the man who came to wire it up, to safely disconnect the old cooker rings.
I built a wooden platform to cover these and siliconed it into place.


When I got back from my hols, a new tenant had moved in. He is Portuguese and speaks little French or English. Like many of the Portuguese here, he is a mason / builder.
One of my plastic garden chairs was missing, so I put up a notice asking for its return. This had no effect, so after a few days I replaced it with an enhanced version, complete with drawing of a green plastic chair.
The next day the notice had gone and the chair was back on the patio,


There is no two ways about it, he is a noisy bastard. From the rental paperwork I know that he is/ was married to a woman from a neighbouring town. He is probably in his late 20’s early 30’s. There is no sign of the wife, so I suppose that they have split up.
Sometime he parks a big white van or a lorry in the parking. His name etc is on the sides of the vehicles, so he either owns the firm, or his dad does and they share the same name. Anyway back to the noise factor. Three seconds after he comes in, he switches on his TV or radio and it can stay on literally all night until it is time for him to go to work. What luck! He also smokes non-stop. My poor new wallpaper and paint........
Fortunately my bedroom is not directly above him, but if I ever get a tenant for the teeny-weeny studio, they will be right below him.
Still, he regularly cleans his room.


The main problem was his gaggingly smelly work boots. Initially there was one pair parked outside his door on the landing. Then there were two pairs there. A strong smell of aftershave-like perfume would waft up the stairs some time after he returned home from work. This would however wear off after an hour or so, and the stench from the boots would win the day.
I started taking a deep breath and trying to hold it as I climbed or descended the stairs past them. As the weather heated up, this proved to be impossible.
One day I tackled him about it as he passed me as I sat on the terrace. I even pointed to places where he could perhaps leave his boots. Outside in the space under the concrete steps, or under the house in the damp earth floored cellar.
The boots stayed outside his door for several more weeks. Reflecting upon our one sided conversation, I got the feeling that he thought that some mad Englishman was explaining the house’s ventilation system to him.
Then his boots suddenly appeared outside overnight on the terrace, subsequent evenings they moved to the space under the concrete steps.


I have 2 theories.


1) one of the ladies that had visited him had told him that his boots stink.


2) he is trying to keep the hallway and stairs from getting muddied by his boots......

This is a much longer post than intended, so just quickly, I had a brief visit from Bee-Boy’s parents. Madame was out so she missed their visit. For the previous 2 weeks she had been telling me that we were going to be invited to an apero with Bee-Boy and his parents, but that no date had been fixed. This was them just popping in to say hello, before returning home to the Loire the next morning. They may return in early September...

Tennents Special

In the late 70’s I reached 18 years of age. This was the age required for the legal imbibing of alcohol. There were two types of beer. There was “Heavy”, which was a dark beer and the relatively new “refreshing” lager, which was served cold. I decided that being a cool character, I was probably a lager drinker. There weren’t even many brands of lager to choose from. The big two were McEwans and Tennents. The pub next door to the student halls of residence that I lived in, was a tennents pub, so that became my main tipple. There was also a drink called "stout". This was available in bottles, but as it was a drink favoured by pensioner Minnie Cauldwell and Ena Sharples in the television programme "Coronation Street" I never tried it.

Guinness was also available, but it was a bit exotic and unless it was stored and served correctly, you were wasting your money.

In 1978, a pint was 23 pence, if you drank in the pub next to the halls you got 2 pence off for being a student. Some of the more experienced students, mostly those who went to football matches every weekend, drank “screwtaps”. This was beer in a bottle, which had a screw top.

Anyway, when it came to choosing which cans of lager (16 pence each) the most popular was Tennents. They had a clever marketing ploy. On each can was a picture of a “lager lovely”. Despite this being the age of the page 3 pin up in the tabloids, the young ladies were reasonably demurely dressed.

The one that I remember was a former Miss Scotland, (the can on the right) whose name was been linked with the debonair man about town and House of Fraser empire owner, Sir Hugh Fraser.

There is of course a web site for everything, so for those who hanker for the “good old days” This link will take you to an archive of beer and lager cans. It seems that the first can with a twist off lid, came out of the good old U.S.A. It looks more like a brasso tin.

www.cannyscot.com/index.htm 

During my third year at university, the drink options increased with the appearance of cider. You could tell the people who started drinking it. They were the ones, who looked ill the next day. Not content just to drink cider, they soon progressed to drinking “Snakebite” which was a half and half mixture of cider and lager. Some pubs refused to sell it, as it had the unfortunate side effect of turning some people into a danger to themselves and others after a couple of pints. My room mate, who was not a big drinker, favoured a “Pink Panther” . This was a snakebite with a dash of blackcurrent. Yeuk!!!

I am heading into a period of leaner finances. Bee Boy and his new woman are moving out on the 27th of this month. This will leave me with only one tenant and 2 empty studio apartments. The smallest studio has not had a tenant since I bought the property.

So no more fresh honey on tap. BB lost/misplaced his set of keys last year, so he continues to leave his door unlocked, which has allowed his friends to wander in and out at will. At least now the building security should improve.

It’s about time that he settled down, having reached the age of 30 last year.

BeeBird is 24 years old and has found a job for a year growing vegetables and delivering veggie boxes to peoples homes. I asked him if baby bees might appear in the near future, but although he is keen, she does not want children for the foreseeable future.

He has already moved all but a few bits and pieces out to his new residence, a two bedroom house with 2 garages to store all the crap which he accumulates as he bumbles along. He reckons that if he continues with apiculture this year, it will cost approximately 10 thousand euros to buy new queens and baby bees. The harsh winter has not done his remaining bees much good and I think that many, many more little bee corpses than usual litter his hives.

I had to leave him a note on his door, because when I went to sweep and wash the stairs and corridor, I found that he has taken my dust pan and broom away with him to his new palace. The corkscrew that I loaned him has also disappeared as has hyperactive man’s wheelbarrow which he borrowed last Autumn. He is a little bugger. Not a bad person, but his brain is not really in gear.

Madame, my remaining tenant has just gone into hospital for a few days for an operation on one of her legs. This should slow her down a bit, but she reckons that she will soon be driving whilst still bandaged up.

I asked her if she needed a lift to the hospital, but she told me that she had already booked her ambulance. An ambulance car came and collected her. In France a large number of vehicles on the road are ambulance vans and cars. One of the questions on page one of the hospital admittance form is “What ambulance company brought you to the hospital?” I presume that your health insurance or top up mutual policy meet or reimburse the costs.

Pussy whipped?

I thought that I would take a moment to bring you up to date with the lives of Bee Boy and Madame.

Longtime readers may remember that Madame’s youngest cat was knocked down and killed earlier this year, and now lies buried in my garden.


A month or so later, she acquired another stray cat, which was living on the streets of a nearby town and was being fed by the staff working at the Secu.


He was given the name Romeo and was as black and shiny as coal. Aged around 3 years old, it took some time for him to get used to return from his roaming to Madame’s flat for bed and board, but eventually a routine was established. Old cat, small dog and Romeo lived together in relative harmony, although I did not hear them practicing much.


Then, one day, the tear-stained face of Madame informed me that Romeo had disappeared. She was sure that someone had stolen him. She had had a cat stolen previously. She does not believe in putting collars with name and address on her pets, in case they get trapped in something by it. I suspect that as small dog and Romeo like running across roads in front of traffic, that it would not lead the injured parties to her door, but I do not know this for sure.


Moving swiftly some months and she now has another stray. A kitten of about 3 months, I wonder how long this one will last. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen it for a few weeks....


Early summer saw Bee boy sidelining his ladyfriend and her small boy child. This made way for the trickle of young ladies who came to him for bee-keeping training. One day I could smell burning meat and popped my head out of my window. There was Madame cooking on her BBQ while David and his disciples lounged around her terrace table eating their aperitif fare.


He has now got another young lady, so we will see what happens. He isn’t spending many nights here at the moment. He was 30 this summer so perhaps he will settle down with this one.


He rented the flat here a few years ago and left to set up home with someone. Unfortunately the relationship didn’t last.


My tiny studio is still unlet, so financially that is a bit of a bugger and Bee-boy is looking for a house with a garage or grange for storage.

Tenants see

Bee boy got a new phone for Christmas. I know this because late morning my land line phone rang. You see as well as skype on my computer, I also have an Orange internet land line.
Anyway I looked at the number and it did not start with the pesky 09 of the number which keeps phoning to sell me something, so I picked up.
Hello I said.
Hello, this is your neighbour Daveed…
I am wondering how he got my phone number but I wait for him to continue

Could I go and look at the parking as he was in Toulouse and had lost his mobile phone. It might be near where his car had been parked.
Find my keys, put on shoes, down two flights of stairs, front door not closed or locked (sigh). Down path and steps, look at snow near car shaped bare patches. Try different angled approaches, no it’s not there, wait a minute, there is a bump lying under other bumps of snow.
You are lucky I say, still clutching my portable land line phone.
Does it still work he asks. I do not know I say.
He will ring off and phone his mobile. I cut my connection and wait. The mobile rings. It is him. Could I put his phone in his studio, his door is unlocked….

23.12.08 Tuesday – Away in a manger

I think that Madame likes Christmas. I mentioned before that she has decorated the square panes of glass in her patio doors with Christmassy type images. I had been going to tell her that really “leoN xueyoJ” should be facing the other way, so that people loitering on her terrace get the message, but I have not done so.
She wants to know if I have any CD’s with English Choirs singing Christmas carols.
I take her up to my flat whilst I search through my music CD’s and cassettes. She also likes Russian choirs singing carols. Unfortunately I have neither category. She asks me to see if I can obtain some for her, if I remember. Obviously it is too late for this year. I will tie a knot in something to remind myself.
She is expecting a lot of people for Christmas and / or New Year for food.
I suspect that the huge potted palm will have to be put back outside again to make some room..
Special menus have been appearing in the press for St Sylvestre meals. These seem to range from 55 to 75 euros per head.
I bought a French pocket diary yesterday and I now know that as well as being Restauration de la Republique Day it is St Sylvestre’s day too.

In France the New Year’s Eve celebration dates back to Roman times. New Year’s Eve is also called the Saint Sylvester’s Eve. The Roman tradition of New Year’s Eve entailed eating as much food as possible until the New Year arrived. The more you ate, the more prosperous you would be in the coming year.
So now you know!
!. ST. (POPE) SYLVESTER I (c. 270 - 335 A.D.)
St. Sylvester I from whom the well in Old Street takes its name was Bishop of Rome in 313 A.D. History best remembers St. Sylvester through his connection with Constantine the Great (C. 280 - 337 A.D.). Constantine, suffering from leprosy, had a dream in which St. Peter and St. Paul advised him to visit Sylvester I, who restored him to full health. It became clear to Constantine that a faith, which could perform such miracles, was worth cultivating and in 313 A.D. he issued the Edict of Milen, proclaiming total freedom of religion for all. Prior to this Constantine had been attached to Judaism and Sylvester suggested to him that the whole question of Religious Faith should be disputed before a collective audience of Jews and Christians the topics for discussion included Paganism, God, Christ and the Ten Commandments. A leading Rabbi by the name of Zamberi volunteered to perform a miracle, as proof of his faith and approaching an ox, whispered the name Jehovah in the animals ear, whereby the beast dropped dead. Legend has it that Sylvester retaliated by pronouncing the name Christ, which restored the ox to life. Thus was Constantine re-affirmed in his new faith - A 13th Cen. wall painting in the Church of San Silvestro in Tivoli, near Rome pictures this "conversion" scene in minute detail.
St. Sylvester I is also reputed to have slain a dragon (more likely a crocodile), not by the sword as St. George is often depicted, but by the power of the name of Christ. To overcome a dragon was little more than an allegorical assertion of sainthood.The feast day of St. (Pope) Sylvester 1 is celebrated on December 31st.
Taken from http://www.malahideheritage.com/Sylvester%27s%20Well.htm

22.12.2008 Monday – To be thick as a brick

Another super sunny day after a frosty minus 3 degree start. I set off into town to tell the Prefecture that I am living in France. I noticed that the front door was not locked.
I gave Prefecture until 2pm (as they re-open at 1.30pm) before I entered the building. I now know where the citizens go. The place had a queue, there was an electronic numbering system in operation. Perhaps I will try again tomorrow..

My car insurance windscreen square has still not arrived, so I had to go to the bank for my 5th temporary one which will last for another month. This is becoming a nuisance.
Back home, bee boys car has gone and the front door is still unlocked. I lock it and go upstairs. About half an hour later my door buzzer goes and I trundle down the stairs to the front door. I unlocked it to find Madame there with a man and a woman, who it transpires are relatives of bee boys, down from the Loire. He has told them to wait for him in his studio and did not mention that they would need a key for the front door.
I ask them what they are going to do until b-boy arrives. It is not a problem they say, because he has left his keys in the studio and it is unlocked…..

I can see that getting him to lock the front door is going to be more difficult than I thought.
Here they perceive themselves as living in the countryside and there is no security issue. Where I have lived previously in the UK, premises security is a big problem.

Later I watch as he loads up his car with all kinds of crap and a guitar. Madame told me this morning that b-boy would be going to the Loire for Christmas to his parents’ house. He drives off. I go down to check if he has locked the front door. No, as usual he has not even pulled it closed behind him. His parents obviously did not beat him sufficiently as a child.

I lock the front door. On my way passed his studio door, I knock then try the door handle. He hasn’t locked that either. Does this mean he has not gone away for the next few weeks? As long as I keep the front door locked all should be well.
I gave Madame a key for the main door this morning. I hope that if he does return this evening, he does not bother ringing door bells to get back in.

I expect that a lot more of my hair will fall out overnight waiting for the door buzzer that may or may not buzz..

21.12.2008 Sunday – Merry-go-round

Well things are hotting-up here, both literally and figuratively. The sun shone in a clear blue sky, and it was good drying weather once again. I know this because bee boy hung out at least 9 t-shirts on the washing line.

Today was special. It was one of the 5 Sundays when French shops are permitted to open. I think that this may change to 10 Sundays next year.
In the afternoon I headed out to town to see how busy it was.
Gasp! Instead of the usual empty streets of one or two people per street, the numbers were well up on the usual Sunday afternoon. There was no thronging in evidence though. No shoving to get to the bargains. Perhaps because the shops I went into didn’t have any bargains.

In the main square there were more wooden huts clustered round the merry-go-round. One hut was selling hot food such as crepes, another was selling hand made pottery, another notebooks and paintings another jewellery. The last hut was closed so I do not know what delights it concealed.
The green wire mesh had been removed from round the merry-go-round and there were even some children sitting on the ride.
Another fairground ride, billed in the press as a toboggan ride was set up in the car park and a handfull of kids were on that.

Yesterday I left a note on bee boys door telling him that the front door must be locked for insurance purposes. As I did not know for certain that he has a key, I did not lock him out.
When I returned from town, he was fiddling about with his car. I asked him if he had got my note about locking the door and he said that he had. He said that he would have to make it a habit.

9.12.2008 Tuesday - A dull boy

A Mizzly, drizzly day today so I stayed in listening to books and ploughing on with revising workbook 2 of my teaching english course. I phoned the TEFL company yesterday to find out how much it would cost me to complete the course as I had not completed within the 18 month time slot allowed. So I am now £80 poorer.
Perhaps once I have completed the final 2 workbooks, I will do an intensive 4 or 5 week CELTA course.
Still no news about the electricity situation by the close of office hours. The lawyers firm that manages my lettings has now sent me a 2 page copy of a document reminding me of my obligations as a non-residential landlord. I have not got a clue what it is about.
She also sent me a 33 page document regarding Daveed’s rental contract.
The French love paperwork. Do the French themselves read all the documentation?
Still no second paint quote. The value of the pound against the euro continues to fall at an unbelievable speed.
I am finding it hard to get motivated into listening to my choir homework disc. The choir webmaster sent out a document to all choir members today. It shows which vegetables grow well when planted close together and which ones do not get on at all. I am sure that I will find it very useful if I ever acquire an allotment or potager, however at the moment I haven’t even got a potager to piss in!
If anyone should want a copy of this vegetable pdf file, send me your email address and I will supply you with one.

03.12.08 Wednesday – Christmas ahoy!

Well I am up and about today. No antibiotics left and it is time to get the body moving about again.
I still have sinus pain in the right side of my head and face, and my left ear is sore and blocked.
What do you do in France if you need your ears syringed? The doctor told me my ears were blocked, but he did not give me anything to remedy the situation. If anyone knows, please let me know.
While I was in bed, I could see a patch of the sunshine and blue sky that I was missing. Now it is dull and drizzly.
The hallway and stairs are all muddy. What does bee boy do? There is a door mat and a long strip of carpet / mat but perhaps he avoids them as you would avoid a crack in the pavement perhaps?
In fact his van has not been around for a couple of nights. It is choir practice tonight and they will have placed orders of spiced cake Pain d’epices (ginger bread to you and me) at 4 euros per so many grams to aid the bees in distress.
I am still awaiting my quote for the crack filling and the painting.
I did manage to write my Christmas cards yesterday and now all I need to do is to go to the post office and post them. I was going to do it today, but the rain….
I will not be giving out so many cards this year, no being in employment. Many of the cards that I am sending are to people who will not even be aware that I have left the UK for “sunnier” climes.
This will be the first year that I have not attended at least one Christmas staff night / meal out since 1978!
Ah happy days! Even the disastrous ones, like the meal / disco at Mr Grumms in the early 1980’s when the gas went out for a few hours at the venue whilst we waited for our Christmas meal. We shared the venue with a large contingent of female hospital cleaners who were legless by the time the disco eventually started. Of course the drunkest one of them kept making a bee-line for me to dance with. She kept falling to the floor. At least my staff and I were able to laugh about it later.
The French do not seem to be a nation of Card senders. Unlike the UK where there seems to be at least one card shop on every street, you have to hunt for the small selection of cards available from the supermarkets. They are very expensive too, even the small plain ones cost upwards of £2 each.
Having been out of circulation for a while, I do not know if Christmas cards have suddenly appeared in the shops.
A few trees have been decorated in people’s gardens round about. Well one tree, in the next road. This has had huge red foil bows tied on it. Will lights follow?
There has been no Christmas music blaring out in the shops. No Slade singing Eeets Krrrissttmassss!
Some weeks ago the owner of the Simply British shop said that she was under pressure from clients to do a Christmas display for her shop window. She felt that November was too early. I wonder if she has now got into Christmas mode.
I will need to go to the Intermarche to buy food tomorrow as I have almost exhausted my supplies. The bread ran out a few days ago now.
Friends and relatives know how much I love Christmas, so here is a photo of me as Father Christmas in 1993, just before I did a Christmas storytime.

Ho-Ho-Ho!

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""

17 November 2008 Monday – Thunderbirds and storage

We are drinking our mid morning coffee and have been watching my Duplex tenant and her friend clearing her patio area of all the crap that it seems to have accumulated. The bin is now full so where we and my other tenant are going to put our rubbish is a mystery. The bin will not be collected until 4am Thursday morning.
Next we watch as a car mechanic, Madam’s female friend a woman and two children mess about with a car which is parked across a driveway across the road. Various people sit in the driving seat and the others stand at the front of the car and appear to push. We can see the front left wheel spinning round furiously. S thinks the car has broken down, I say that there is probably a low wall there and she has driven a wheel over it and got stuck.
About 10 minutes later my door buzzer goes. I take my coffee down the 2 flights of stairs to see who it is. Madame explains that a car has got stuck as the lady has driven over the wall.
She has also buzzed Daveed and we go across, lift the correct front side of the car (not the silly side that they had been lifting) and in seconds the car is back on the level. The lady thanks us and we return home to Tracey Island.

I assemble the tools and wood ready to build a raised storage facility (shelf platform) in the utility alcove located in the main bedroom and work on the construction project goes remarkably smoothly, a statement which anyone who knows me, or has seen my DIY making things efforts, will find hard to believe.
So now I can get some more of my “useful one day” items off the floor.

Extra choir practice tonight and for once it is not raining. I get a lift part of the way home, from my new “best friend” Jeanette.

10 November 2008 Monday - BUT and boots

Sunny day today. Workmen arrive to inspect the water penetration problem.
There is a network of cracks on the front and side of the building that have been badly filled in by some numpty using clear silicone at some time. As well as leaving gaps in their handywork, the network of cracks has expanded and from the neighbouring garden these are clearly visible.
The builders have to go, but will return in the afternoon to inspect the roof.

In the afternoon the builder climbs up on the roof to check some evident repair work that has been carried out some time in the past to the edge of the roof. No problem there. There are a couple of solutions. Mr Builder can return on Thursday to fill in cracks as a temporary measure. Tomorrow is Armistice day so they will not be working, and Wednesday they are away.
The lasting solution is to have the offending outer walls of the building repainted with suitable paint, which they cannot do. I ask if they can recommend anyone, and they decide upon a painter who is Portuguese..
The sun is still shining so we set off to BUT to see if there are any new bargains or storage solutions since S’s last visit. There aren’t.
Next stop was the Halle Chaussures (big shoe shop) where S finds a pair of black below knee boots on sale for 15 euros. The car thermometer reads 24 degrees C so it is rather warm driving back home.
The new tenant, or rather his mum, has been busy today doing the washing, and all of the lines are filled. Yes, his parents are still here.

9 November 2008 Sunday – Airport

Another sunny day today, but I do not go to day 2 of the open air antiques market which is being held in town.
I get down to a bit of dusting and cleaning. Not that the place is not nearly spotless already.
Thinking about my tenant’s damp walls during the night, the only thing that I can think of is that perhaps it is condensation. After all there are three adults sleeping in a room designed for one person. That’s 3 showers instead of one, 3 meals instead of 1, 3 people breathing in and out instead of one.
Lord knows what can be done about that.
If it was a rain problem my apartment wall and the ground floor studio wall would be wet too.
I set off for the airport and follow my sat-nav and the road signs. I succeed in reaching my destination but with about 15 km to go, a car overtaking me honks his horn and his passenger points to the rear wheel on my side of the car.
I park in car park 0, which is free for the first 30 minutes. It is very busy as the Bristol flight has landed early. I look at my tyre and it is completely flat. I have been lucky to get here.
I have my pump in the boot, so I connect it up and start pumping as fast as my legs will go.
By the time I have suitable inflation, I am as warm as toast in my tee-shirt, shirt, and fleece.
I meet S in arrivals and we head back to the car.
I drive at a slower speed than I did on my outward journey. I check the tyre once we reach home and it is still inflated.
As we drive, we can see the Pyrenees mountains getting bigger and bigger. The front range is the most visible, with the ranges behind getting successively fainter, Are they mountains or cloud shapes?

8 November 2008 Saturday – spots of bother

Up early and drove into the fog to get some shopping in. When I emerged, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Despite the heavy rain, there is still snow visible on some of the surrounding hills.
Then washing machine was pressed into service and clothes hung out to dry.
Late afternoon I was bringing the washing in, when Daveed met me on the stairs.
Did I have a leak in my apartment? No I said, show me. I go into his studio and the wall is wet in places.

We go upstairs and check my walls then down to the studio below him and check that wall too.
No visible problems. I pour water into the guttering and he waits below to see if it comes out of the drainpipe at the bottom of the house wall. It does, so there is no blockage. I go into the garden of the property next door. The wall outside where he has the damp patches looks okay.
We go back into the house. Would I like some spiced cake? He asks. I am now the owner of some nutty gingerbread cake.
I send an email with a couple of photos of the problem to my builders asking them if they can come and look into the problem. Perhaps this will winkle them out from their hiding place…
The rest of the day is spent tagging the slides on the computer, then backing up files onto CDs and DVDs.

I also email my embarassing dampness problem to my builders.

S arrives tomorrow, and I have a small bit of tidying up to do before I set off to the Toulouse Blagnac airport to collect her. It can wait until tomorrow though.

7 November 2008 Friday – Political correctness and crap management

Daveed’s parents seem to have spent the night with him again. I see them heading off in the direction of town with empty shopping bags.
I carry on scanning slides into the computer and listen to Mr Archer’s “Prisoner of Birth” on my MP3 player whilst I work.
I am not a J.A. fan, and the story is just too far fetched for words, but if you suspend your disbelief at the impossibility of it all, it is a good listen.

Late afternoon the tenant’s car leave. Hooray! I go out and turn my car round so that I can drive nose first onto the road tomorrow morning when I go shopping.
In the evening, S, HB and I have a Skype conference. This disables using the web cams and it is difficult to know when there will be a gap to speak. You can have up to 24 people in a conference at the same time, but that would be very difficult to manage.
I get a brief email from Ex-libris, my new blog follower. She is going to Britany for a holiday. I hope the weather gets better soon.
I keep an eye on the British news. The latest stupidity is from the councils who have banned their staff from using any Latin phrases. Just when I was not getting used to “baa baa rainbow sheep”, and Noddy and Big Ears not sleeping together any more. Next step will be to burn all the books with words longer than two syllables, and of course all the paintings whose content is not crystal clear to the viewer, same for sculpture too. We can keep that Emin bird’s bird sculpture in Liverpool though as it looks just like a real bird. Now that’s what real Council’s call art!
Perhaps the F***w**s in Weston will keep the burnt Grand Pier as it is, call it art and change its name to “Unfinished Pier” and charge an entrance fee to look at it.
Damn they think of everything!
In France they appear to respect authors and artists, and value their contribution to society.
It was S’s last working day today. It never ceases to amaze and disappoint me that all of the management that I have ever been within earshot of is so piss poor.
The real tragedy of it is, that lacking the knowledge, skills in management and social skills, they seal themselves into a little safety bubble and ignore what is going on in that nasty world around them. I suspect that they do not realise how useless they are and the demoralising effect that they have on their staff and on to the service that management should be providing.
They may talk the talk, but they do not have the least idea what it all really means.
They should be constantly reviewing their own performance, seeking honest opinions about their performance from below and above, and then doing something to improve themselves. Heaven forbid that they should set an honourable, hard working caring example for their staff to follow.
Leader? ship? Titanic more like. They will not change, because if they should by some chance ask themselves the question, they think they are doing a good job. Nope the thought would not arise in the first place.
Please get a grip ladies and gentlemen and stop being so self centred, ignorant, small minded, technologically ignorant, rude and lazy as you coast towards your pensions or your promotions. Yes this applies to you. Be open to new ideas, listen, and do not just pay lip service to your staff and customers. Get off your arses, out of your offices, out of your comfort zones and tackle the difficult things.
Don’t just appoint useless clones who have no management experience to management positions, where they can only have a negative and demoralising effect on those that they manage.
Make sure that they have a proven track record. Speak to those who have been “managed” by them.
If you are not prepared to manage, ship out and let the people who are capable of managing make the difference. Life can be hard enough without being managed by a bunch of headless chickens.
What? You’re late for your lunch appointment? Oh well you had better go then.
Rant over….
Any similarities to persons "alive" or deceased in the above rant is entirely unintentional and coincidental....

6 November 2008 Thursday – Splish, splosh

It has rained all night and continues to rain until midday. I sort out 15 packets of photographic slides that were in my metal camera case. These range from 1996 to 1995.
I figure out how to scan them in with my scanner and begin the long, slow process.
At around 3pm I put on my walking boots and anorak (are rain coats still called anoraks?) and head into town to buy a couple of birthday cards from the English shop.
It is spitting with rain as I set off and when I come to the first bridge over the riber, I take some photos and video of the water, the level of which is much higher than it has been since I was here in June this year.
Here is what it looked like a few weeks ago.

And here is the situation now.













We are lucky as many parts of France have been flooded. The television shows cows swimming, houses flooded, cars and businesses under water.
I reach the English shop “Simply British” and although the lights are on, there is no one at home.
There is however a sign on the door stating that the owner is a short distance up the road at her friends’ restaurant and to come and get her if you want something from the shop.
I wander around a bit and return to the shop. It is still locked so I go up the road to the restaurant and find the owner.
We walk back to the shop and there is a lady and child waiting at the door.
The lady is served and I start looking through two of the baskets of cards.
It turns out that the owner was just about to have lunch with her friends, so I carry the two baskets of cards up to the small restaurant and sit at a table choosing my cards, while she has her lunch and a coffee.
I don’t have the right money, so I write one of my cards while I am waiting, then once she is finished, we head back to the shop.
On my way back home I post the card and I get home before the rain starts falling once again.
Daveed’s father’s car has appeared in the parking area again, and the white van which was there all day has disappeared.
It would be interesting to find out what is going on. Will the car still be there tomorrow?
I resume scanning in slides and by the time I go to bed I am just over half way through. Tomorrow I hope to finish the scanning, then there will be the filing, naming, tagging……

4 November 2008 Tuesday – Getting my Assurance in gear

Another poor night’s sleep.
The Assurance man came this morning and I now have my multi-risque policy. The visit took over an hour and a half and we chatted, mostly in French about his son who works in a local bookshop, employment, insurance etc etc.
He worked with an American company for 15 years so the morning ended somewhat bizarrely with him speaking English and me speaking French as his desire to try out his English proved too strong for him.
Daveed’s parents and brother are still living with him in the studio. Half way through my insurance meeting, one of my 2 apartment door handles wiggled a bit. When I opened the door, there was a young lady half way down the stairs. I asked if she was looking for someone, and she replied that she was looking for Daveed. I directed her to the right porte. That makes 5 in the studio.
She doesn’t stay long, which is good, as when the assurance agent goes to leave, her car is blocking him in.
The rest of the bees hardly stir, only leaving the apartment late afternoon for a while. They must be bored. The weather is cold and damp.
At around one o’clock I am hit by a wave of fatigue, so I go to bed and wake up an hour and a half later.
I listen to the tenor part once at very low volume.

3 November 2008 Monday - shelfish

It was a wide awake night last night, not helped by the heavy rain.
A dry day has been forecast after the drenchings of the last two days, so the washing machine goes on first thing.
I start fixing the rails and shelves back onto the alcove walls. Bad news is that I omitted one of the brackets and there are 3 holes missing. I poke match sticks at the wall, but can only find one hole. Even using that hole I cannot find the other 2. Did I fill them in?
Time to find the electric drill.
Rails and shelves finally in place, I start hanging up coats, suits, trousers etc that have been living in drawers or suitcases. I find the curtains that S altered to fit over the alcove and that is another job done.
I attack the sticking bathroom door, which refuses to not stick, but which is now slightly easier to open and close.
I sweep and mop the apartment floors.
The tenant and his visitors finally go out late morning, so I sweep the staircase and entrance corridor, then start mopping.
Of course Daveed’s family, for that is who they are arrive just as I am about to mop the entrance hall.
Most of the washing is dry now, so I take it upstairs and this leads to drawer re-arrangement.
This in turn leads to some more putting away of things in cupboards.
I am on a roll.
Just an apple for lunch and the family go out again. I just have time to croak along to the petite messe CD once before they return.
I don’t think I’m cut out for this singing lark. My voice is getting worse.

I have been trying to pin down my house insurance man for a multirisque policy since September. I finally chase him again by email and receive a reply that he proposes visiting me tomorrow morning to progress things.
It has been rather a dull day, but progress has been made.