Whilst We Were Sleeping

We had storms last night. Not as bad as last year around our way but there is the odd village cut off by the river.

My story is not about those although the thunder may have masked other noises.

You know how they tell you not to leave electrical products plugged in at night?

You know how tumble driers seem to have a bad reputation for bursting into flame?

You know how despite that information you can't really be bothered plugging it in and unplugging it again each time?

Well if you don't, the potential result is.......

When we got up this morning we came downstairs. There was a bit of a burning smell. We went in the kitchen. There was the sound of gushing water in our utility room. There were scorch marks round the door. The door felt cold, the handle felt cold. We opened the door whilst holding a fire extinguisher. (A legal requirement in all houses in France). No fire, but there had been.

We don't know how it started other than the tumble drier is the seat of the fire. It wasn't being used. The process appears to have been - fire starts - gets properly underway burning and melting items - burns through the incoming water piped for washing machine and water heater - water under mains pressure goes absolutely everywhere and douses the flames. And not a moment too soon.

Insurance company advised and are on the case.

It's a bit of a bastard but it could have been a damn sight worse. At least we are here to be able to be fed up about it.

Post-worthy

Hello!

Even I was beginning to think I might never blog again. You on the other hand were probably hoping I wouldn't.

Anyway, it is a note-worthy day. Yesterday we went to Ikea and bought 3 x Billy bookcases. (I think there is an international law, probably something to do with the United Nations, that requires everyone to own a Billy bookcase). So we bought three, not the plain white ones but one of the wood effect ones. So it cost more but looks less like a Billy bookcase.

Unbelievably, today, I have built all three of them. The Magnificent M cannot believe it. She was expecting them not to see daylight until at least the new year. And, I only got one shelf the wrong way round so there is a rough face.

Luckily it is right at the bottom so I don't think anyone will see but we might buy some facing tape to stick on. But she better not expect me to do that before the New Year. I'll be at least three months getting over this bout of DIY.

And now, the end is near.

Well, I was going to do a post today about the neurosurgeon Henry Marsh. He is a great surgeon and one of the nicest people you can
Have should you end up with a brain problem. I have only met him once, when a friend was diagnosed with a brain tumour. I was listening to him on Desert Island Discs and he said nothing that changes my opinion.

Anyway, I've limped in to the end of Blogathon with a poorly laptop and having to use my phone to write this which is less than ideal! (1st world problem).

Do you remember that a few years back I refused to stop blogging daily after the Blogathon and kept going to May? Well I won't be doing that this year!

Acronym

Bloody
Laptop's
Only
Gone
And
Turned
Himself
Off
Now!!!!

La Vie Francaise

I helped some of our owners to clear their garage today as they are about to list the house for sale and needed to tidy up. It turned out we just needed to do two runs with the van and the owners were very pleased by the end of the day. They did admit that we had however done the work in a very French way.

Here's how it went.

10.15 - Arrived at pre-arranged time.
10.16 - A cup of coffee and a catch up as I haven't seen them since last Autumn.
11.15 - Decide it's time to load up the van.
11.40 - Leave to go to the decheterie (refuse tip)
12.05 - Return to house
12.06 - Decide it is time for lunch
12.15 - Carrot Soup, Pate' and cold meats with salad, fruit tarts.
14.00 - Decide it's time to load up the van again.
14.20 - Leave for Decheterie. Won't accept the paint tins.
14.45 - Arrive second decheterie who won't accept paint tins.
15.15 - Arrive third decheterie who thankfully will take paint tins.
15.45 - Return to house.
15.46 - Decide we should have another coffee along with some strawberries and oranges.
16.15 - Declare ourselves well satisfied with the days work.
16.20 - Charged them for just half a days work as to be fair, most of the day was either eating or drinking and the rest pretty much swanning around in the van with the aircon on as it was 25 degrees today.

And that is pretty much why I prefer living here rather then West London!

Local Laughter

Well, not now, but before we came to France.

Milton Jones is one of the best one liner comedians about. Not for him building a 10 minute set about a visit to the local garden centre. He might do about a minute on that and still pack in more jokes than the 10 minute monologue that story based comedians would come up with.

He's different to Tim Vine who is the king of puns. Slightly more quirky.

He was born in Kew, and lives in Twickenham and is a stalwart of the Ealing Comedy Festival.

I've only heard him do the odd slot on the radio but listened today to an entire cd. I think that might be as much as you can take in one sitting but I shall have a listen to another one tomorrow.

One of my favourite bits today - My grandad was really ill so my grandma put lard all over his back, he went downhill fast after that.

And Home.....

Well, we managed the early start. The shuttle bus ran when it was meant to, the assistance people organised my mum. Ryanair managed to leave on time and even got in early. And then mother had the pleasure of being carried down the stairs from the plane by four hunky firemen. Even at 87 she might be getting a taste for it.

The weather here is much the same as the UK but a bit warmer.

We had cottage pie for tea which was a good welcome home.

Mother has now gone to bed and I won't be far behind.

This international jet-setting is all too much. Even if it is only 1 hour difference!

Dedication.

Just like Roy Castle, who sang a song called Dedication at the beginning of his show about the Guiness World Records, I am presently singing it to myself as I sit here at 10.42pm making sure I don't miss a post of this year's blogathon when I should really be trying to go to sleep since I only have five and a quarter hours before I have to get up to go to Stanstead.

And I don't suppose any of you will be there to see me off!

Dined like a King

By Jove, I've just had an excellent meal in St Albans. The best I've ever had in St A's.

Chicken livers with green apple sauce to start, ox cheeks with parsnip puree and some other bits for a main and an apple and blackberry crumble with ice cream for desert.

You could pay more for lower quality in the area, so well recommended.

Only complaints. £28 for three courses. A bit rich compared to what I pay in France for similar but that is probably down to business rates. And the noise level in the restaurant was over 80db. Over 100db in the bar. For God sake, what is it with the British and their need to talk so loudly? It was the same last night at a curry house in Hook, Hampshire.

If you find yourself near St A then it is well worth a visit. If you find yourself near Fanjaux, Southern France, it is worth a visit and a few more euros left in your pocket afterwards

A Brief Massage From Your Correspondent

Busy busy day today.

Just about to leave to do day 1 of my pool management course and then into the car to drive down to Hook in Hampshire for a curry with some old school friends. That's old in both senses of the word!

Won't be back until after midnight so this is my chance to get today's post in.

And whilst doing that I can work out how I failed to notice that my flight back on Sunday, which is always at 2.10pm, like every other day of the week has been changed to 7.30am. I could cope with that myself but I'm taking my 87 year old mother back with me. And the next flight isn't till Wednesday. Bugger!

Sleeping like a baby.

Flew across with Ryanair's flying sardines service. I normally have a window seat cos I like looking where we'd be if only it wasn't cloudy. This time I decided I'd have an aisle seat with the hope of getting off the plane quickly and through passport control as soon as possible.

All the passengers appeared to have boarded and no-one had come to sit on the two inner seats and I was just getting myself into the idea that I could lounge across the three seats when an older couple turned up and that dream went out of the window. And then they sat down. With their 8 month old grandchild.

Luckily I have never had to fly with a small child next to me before. I have had some in the row in front who insist on rocking forward and back and some behind who spend the whole flight kicking the back of my seat, so I hunkered down ready for the screaming to begin. That's the baby, not me.

It didn't seem to phased at the noise of the engines as we went down the runway, it seemed more interested in trying to escape from it's baby sized seat belt that attached it to Grandad.

Then as we climbed it decided it didn't like it!

But, other than a quick grizzle it laid down and went to sleep. And it didn't wake up until we landed.

RESULT!

Flying visit

I am coming to the UK for 96 hours. Actually with flight times it is about 92 hours.

Travelling tomorrow tea time I will go to my Mums. Thursday and Friday I am renewing my Pool Management Certificate, assuming I don't drown anyone or give them Legionnaires Disease. Saturday is getting my Mum sorted and then she comes back with me. In between those fixed points are a curry with some old school friends on Thursday night and a family meal with brother and family on Friday night.

Will then be doing the reverse journey sometime in April but rather more leisurely, which I hope might give an opportunity for me to meet up once more with Mr Masher, where we can partake of a leisurely alcoholic beverage whilst setting the world to rights! 

Value Victuals

If there is one thing that the French are good at, it is the good old 'menu prix fixe'. One of the guys we work with told us of a restaurant they had been to which we hadn't been to so we went off today. Our party consisted of M, myself and our colleague and his wife.

We all had a duck terrine to start with a mixed salad and a rather nice undentifiable sauce which was possibly mayonnaise based. As always in France a large amount of bread was made available for free along with the carafe of water. For a main course our friends had steak in pepper sauce whilst we had pork cheeks in a pepper sauce, something we have both got hooked on since we've been here. I had a white bean vegetable dish as a side, the other three had mushrooms. To finish we had 2 x creme brulee, a creme caramel and a chocolate mousse. As part of the deal we also had a 1/4 litre of wine each. And what did this feast cost us? Just 56€ for the four of us. About £50.00.

We don't do this very often as we want to keep it as a treat but it certainly doesn't break the bank when we do treat ourselves.

Easy Like Sunday Evening

I am going for the easy option today.

---------------------------------

Where to start. A record from my childhood. So many choices. In the end I have settled on the first record I ever owned. Not that I bought it. I had been interested in music from a very early age. I don’t even remember listening to the first record I became obsessed with, Magic Moments by Perry Como, but I am reliably informed by my mother I spent day in, day out, just singing the two words of the title to the tune. And I obviously carried on being interested in music as when I was four or five I was bought my own little record player with three records. One has probably been more important than the others. I loved the music I listened to as a kid, it was made just for my age group. No pop records with unsuitable lyrics in our day, but songs with humour or interest. And it introduced me to classical music even if I didn’t realise it at the time. The records were red plastic and this particular recording was on side A and then the second half on side B but thanks to the magic of the interwebnetthingy you get all of it in one go!

I suspect it might bring back memories for some others. I give you Danny Kaye and Tubby the Tuba!

TUBBY THE TUBA

Tracks of my Years

It is highly serendipitous during the February Blogathon when completely out of the blue you are asked to take part in something on another website over the next 6 days.

So, as an Archers fan, one of the sites I belong to have started running a Tracks of my Years feature each week as per the Ken Bruce Radio 2 programme slot. And this coming week they have asked me to be the contributor. Now that could give me my next 6 posts, and it possibly will unless I can come up with something more interesting or, and this might happen, if I used the song in Brennigs blogathon the other year.

We shall see!

A Grand Day Out

Having been very good and done plenty of diy this week we decided to have a day off. It was another sunny day and the Med was calling! Unfortunately we couldn’t hear it so we went to Ikea instead.

When we lived in London our nearest Ikea was only 5 miles away. Now our nearest is 115kms and about an hour and a half away. Although to be fair it used to take us an hour and a half to do 5 miles up the North Circular.

We went to check out three things;

1) Some bookcases for the upstairs landing – It will end up being the ubiquitous Billy bookcases.

2) A modular wardrobe system for guest bedroom 1 – Yes, we know what we want as the internal system

3) Sliding doors for said wardrobe – Failed on this one. Not the end of the world though.

Other than that we managed to get through the underground dungeon of unnecessary plastic items with only 56€ of purchases and we also managed to avoid eating meatballs or lingonberries.

We didn’t buy any of it so in another couple of weeks and I’ll be off again in the van to bring it home, and then the diy will start again.

I can’t help thinking my day off as a reward has somehow worked against me!

Vroom Vroom

I like the cars I have had. I sit in them and I enjoy driving them. It’s rare I find I car I don’t enjoy driving. I drove my first hybrid a year ago even if it was just a hire car and it took the entire weekend to work out how the switching between fuel and electric was carried out. I am presently driving the 17^th Peugeot I have owned. But since the 1^st car I ever owned, an Austin 1100, I haven’t done much in the way of mechanics. It is not my forte. To be fair, it doesn’t really interest me. I can’t tell a tamping sprocket from a grunge plate or some such. I don’t care whether it has 6 cylinders, 150bhp, and double overhead cams, I just want to sit in it and enjoy driving.

So it comes as a bit of surprise that I am obsessed with watching Car SOS. It isn’t that I like just the personal story, or the design of the car and its’ aesthetics, I am actually interested in the mechanics, the stripping down of engines, gearboxes, clutch and brake systems. Who’d have thought it?

I’m certainly not going to be rushing out and stripping down any vehicles in the near future, I am the sort of person who can take two nuts off a bolt and then drop one down a drain or put two back and still have one left over but I might mess a round with an old pool pump for the fun of it.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!

I have just spent time writing tonight's thrilling blog post. And then, for the third time today the laptop froze. And of course when it restarted there was nothing saved.

The revenge of the wisteria..................

Torture

Well, I've discovered why they used bamboo as a torture implement. Having removed all the wisteria from the frame over the terrace I have been affixing bamboo roofing to the top. The bamboo has been fighting back. Just because of how I needed to tie the roof down it meant my arms were resting on the edge, although I might describe it as the edge resting gently into my arms.

By the cringe, the edges are damned sharp. They don't look it but they are like razor edges.

How the hell do pandas eat this stuff and not slice their mouths to pieces? That's what I want to know!

Going overboard

As I've mentioned before, I am a member of The Aude Shantymen. Or the Old Singing Men as she tends to describe us. I'm just coming up to completing two years and I've pretty much enjoyed every minute of it. It has been nice to spend time in an all male group. Not tht we get up to anything we couldn't get up to in mixed company but for whatever reason, it is more relaxed. As one of the guys says, we are his garden shed.

Over the two years we have got much better, (I'm not claiming credit), and we have gone from a group of about 6 to 12 when we are all there. There are also only so many sea shanties you can sing, and due to a tie up with where we rehearse, we have had to extend our repertoire into some folk songs.

Probably the vest known of the shanty groups, certainty in the UK, are Fishermen's Friends. Based in Cornwall they have become the medias go to group if they need some singers and there is sea involved. Two years ago, the members of ASM would certainly not have put themselves in the same class as the Friends but given their latest album, where reviews tend to show them as not being up to standard and our improvement, members of our group are talking of us being as good. Now, I'm not sure that is exactly true, but if there is a big difference over the two years, and yes, we have improved, it is the confidence of the other members, few of which have any real music knowledge.

And so we are going to make a cd, mainly for marketing purposes, but if that went well then I think they might try a full album.

I still don't think the Fishermen's Friends will be having a sleepless night tonight though.

Incoming Mother

It's that time of year when mother is going to be visiting us. She'll be here for a good 6 or 7 weeks as she has for the last couple of year but potentially this year just might be different, because she will be in France on 29th March and I guess we can't be dead certain exactly what is going to happen. I don't discuss Brexit in any great depth with anyone because it is highly divisive and I aren't planning to start now.

However.....

Our view since the first day since the referendum that as far as us living in France was concerned not much would change. And we know pretty much that despite the dire prognostications, we will still be able to travel between the UK and Europe with just a form to fill out and a second form if you want to drive on the continent. But much of our planning has been based on their being an agreement. Now, even without an agreement we are not concerned that our lives will change. There is just one problem we have to face if things go really really wrong........


WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO IF MY MOTHER HAS TO STAY FOR EVER!!!!

Family Tree

I am the oldest male in my family tree stemming from my parents still alive.

I am the second oldest person still alive in my line of family tree stemming from my grand parents. (oldest male)

I am the fourth oldest person still alive in my family tree stemming from my great-grandparents. (oldest male)

I am the fifth oldest person still alive in my family stemming from my great-great-grandparents (oldest male)

No idea after that.

That is a lot of generations and lines that I am now patriarch to. The first time it hit me was on the death of my father a few years back when I realised I was now "head of the family" as the oldest male. (I haven't mentioned that to my mother as she would tell me not to be silly and send me to my room. Even though I'm 800 miles away. And I'm 62). But that's the tradition if not the reality of modern life. Although at that time I was only thinking of my immediate family.

So at some point this crown will pass to my brother, although hopefully not for a bit yet, and assuming I don't outlive him.

Luckily there are many more people below me than above on the tree. I just hope all those people aren't looking to me for an inheritance, they are going to be sorely disappointed.

Unless they want a piece of wistreia that I finished off today. Huzzah!

Loupia Lopping

So today, thanks to the weather turning somewhat warm and hitting 18° we took to the garden. We have a wisteria coming across the back of house and has entwined itself along a frame that covers a small terrace. It's very pretty when it is in flower. It is also a bloody nuisance when the blossom all falls off!

Armed with a pruning saw, loppers, and a steely will, I have cleared half of it. The easy half. The bit that is left is the stuff that has entwined itself around the frame and needs to be cut off in small pieces. I wouldn't mind it I could get my chain saw to if but the metal is so embedded it is not an option. Also, we are trying to do it slightly on the quiet so our neighbour doesn't realise what we are doing. Not that he minds, but being German he will have a more superior way of doing it and we haven't got time to listen to him and cut the wisteria back.

So, if we have another nice day tomorrow, I shall be reprising my role as Alan Titchmarsh and savaging the bastard thing.

All Change

When it's spring, a young woman's thoughts turn to moving furniture about. Well, an older woman who lives in Loupia does.

To be fair it was in response to a "problem" of my own making. We have two settees. A three seater which is where I tend to sit and a two seater which M normally frequents. My problem is that my settee is rather low, (they are not matching), and my knees are finding it harder and harder to hoist me upright. M's suggestion was that we just swapped settees. I, being the gentleman I am, said I didn't want her having to use the low settee either and we also have an armchair. So, for her to retain her settee and me to have the chair w needed to move all the furniture around, Setees went one way, then the other, chairs moved, rugs spun round, coffee tables angled. Nope, we didn't like it. On to lay out two. Everything moved again, Twice. We still didn't like the layout.

So we ended up putting everything back where it was and swapping settees. My knees are more comfortable, M doesn't mind her settee, and the cat is completely confused.

The Wanderer Returns

Firstly, here is a picture of the both of us which proves The Magnificent M isn't actually a goatee'd, tonsured monk with a bad habit.

Anyway, she is home today! Off to get her from Carcassonne Airport in a few minutes. (People might complain about Ryanair but 9.99€ is pretty good value for an 800 mile flight!).

I have survived other than that original injury and, he says proudly, although there is nothing really to be proud about, I didn't eat out once. In fact I only used a ready meal once and that was only part of a meal.

The house has been tidied to at least the point where she won't feel she immediately needs to start cleaning. I've managed to avoid doing any washing, that's clothing, not me, but she won't mind* and the cat is also still alive.

But by God I've missed her. Even though it is only a week. She'll be giving me grief later for not having finished some of the work that needed to be done, although the weather has been dreadful. I'd probably grind to a halt if she wasn't pushing me and I wouldn't have it any other way.


* other items I failed to do are available and will no doubt be pointed out.

Making a Mountain Out of a Molehill

Our big news at the end of last year, having been discussed for some time, is that The Magnificent M's daughter and fiancé are going to come out to France to join us. They will spend a year here and decide if they want to take the company over or whether a year in France is more than enough. They will come out New Year 2020 and stay till Xmas 2020 unless they decide to go ahead.

Anyhoo, that is just background. Whilst he is her fiancé presently the idea is that in May 2020 they will get married. But of course, nothing can be that simple in anymore. In my day, he says sagely, you went to the local church or register office and you got married. Job done. Nowadays such simplicity is eschewed.

So, the idea is that they wanted a beach wedding. OK, there are many to choose from and having spent some time narrowing down the chance to somewhere in Europe, and pretty much therefore the Med, they have decided on a Greek Island. Huzzah.

We then have another phone call a few weeks later saying they have a problem because they have just realised the wedding certificate will be in Greek and they want it in English. No problem, we say, you can get it translated.

A few days later it's yet another call. Nope, still don't fancy having the original certificate in Greek so on to plan B. They will get married later this year in the UK as a registry office with just two passers by as witnesses. That way they will have a UK certificate.

So what is happening with the Greek wedding. That is still going ahead. M & I are the only ones who know. She has not even told her sisters. There are going to be 30 people on a beach in Greece watching a bogus wedding and nobody is going to see the real one.

Then they will be having a UK party for all those who didn't go to Greece and see the wedding that wasn't.

So, they are going to have a real wedding anniversary, a bogus anniversary. Potentially they might have to have the UK certificate translated to Greek in order to have the bogus wedding carried out, and whether they do or not they will have to have it translated into French because they will need it here and France expect all foreign documents to be translated into French for legal purposes.

I hope they never have to get divorced, it's going to be a legal nightmare!

Five things

Five things I have recently bought but not used

A Dremel 3000
A Military Specification Anorak Smock
A practice kit for picking locks
A knife sharpening stone (Carbonundum?)
A large tube of Permaton.


Five things I have bought recently and opened.

A duo of penny whistles in the keys of C & D.
A large woolen jacket with integral hood
A cat scratching pole
A Celeriac "whatever it is called"
Eddy the Teddy

Snake and Pygmy

One thing we both miss here in France is pies! They do lots of pastry based things but not what you or I would call a pie. So last time we were across in Blighty we thought we would get a few Fray Bentos tinned pies so we could occasionally spoil ourselves.

I don't think it is illegal to bring tinned pies into France from the UK but we do like to think we might have smuggled them in, thereby adding flavour by the fact they would be contraband. It may well have added something but flavour hasn't been it. They have been a major disappointment. What meat there is, and there isn't much, isn't as flavoursome as we would like. Now this might be because of the change in our palettes. I longed for a sausage sandwich last time I was back but didn't enjoy it because there wasn't as much meat flavour as in our sausages here. However, I digress. We have now had two steak and kidney pies and one steak and ale. Just one of the latter to go. The other problem has been that the pastry hasn't cooked properly. The top layer rise and are fine but the layers just above the meat stay uncooked and slimy.

This was our great hope of pie nirvanha but alas we must wait until next visit where I shall be straight down the chippy for a Pukka Pie and chips. Now that's a proper pie!

Oh No You Didn't!

Oh yes I did!

Once again I trod the boards this last December bringing joy and happiness* to the masses in the hilarious tale of Robin Hood. Having played the baddie last year as Long John Silver I rather fancied myself as The Sheriff of Nottingham. Unfortunately the director had other ideas and so I ended up being Little John. Out of the four Merry Men we had plus our new recruit I was actually the only man, such are the trials and tribulations of amateur dramatics. Worse for the Magnificent M was that she ended up being Friar Tuck. Not her favourite role ever. And she will kill me because she appears on the video link below!

One of the reasons that I ended up being Little John was that the director wanted me to sing Bring Him Home for Les Mis. I am never going to get to play Jean Valjean on stage so for two and a half minutes I suspended the character I was meant to be and transported myself to my favourite musical.

The result is below. Not sure it is my best performance ever but it was nice to get a chance to tick it off the list of songs I've wanted to sing.

Bring Him Home

*it may in fact have brought despair and depression.

And they're off......

Greetings from what has been a relatively warm South of France on this glorious first day of February and the first day of Blogathon 2019. Don't get too jealous though, it seems to be a one day wonder and we are back to 5°C and rain again tomorrow.

I am presently looking after myself for a week because the Magnificent M has returned to the UK to see youngest daughter and grand-daughter. It is now 53 hours and I am still alive, this comes as a shock to both her and me. So far I have only injured myself once in the kitchen by slicing my finger on a can lid. Had we been in the UK I could have lived on ready meals and an occasional raid on fish and chip shops. Unfortunately the French aren't very good with ready meals and there is very little fast food. We have no curry house and only one Chinese, which is Vietnamese, so just isn't quite right. Therefore I am cooking for myself. I am no masterchef. I am not even a minorchef. So it was a burger last night and it was Thai noodles tonight. Not sure what I'll manage tomorrow.

And I guess now I'll have to master the dishwasher!

I can feel it coming........

Oh Lord!