Blogathon Day 18 - Joint Enterprise

So the Supreme Court has decided that the Joint Enterprise law interpretation was wrong. Well then they need to toughen up a series of other sentences. Because it looks to me that if you get the crazy notion to murder someone, and even better if I give you that crazy notion, I can egg you on and get you to murder someone. Then providing you don't admit it and I don't shop you, there won't be a conviction for murder. And the more of us in the group then it's even less likely.

Because this is British Justice. Where you can be murdered and as long as the Police are unable to identify the actual person in a group who gave the death blow, no-one will be convicted.

Ah, say the liberal lawyers and others, what if one of the group was looking the other way or perhaps wasn't aware that the person was going to be murdered? Well the answer to that is that everyone else in the group should name the killer. And if you don't that is why you have made it a joint enterprise! It's not rocket science. But no-one names the killer because he might come after them. Precisely, that's why he is a killer. But if he gets banged up for life you might well be ok. Although that means he'll probably be out in about a fortnight but that's another gripe.

If you don't name the killer then that has to be perverting the course of justice. Which has a maximum sentence of life imprisonment. So use it. Then people will start naming the culprit,

"But if they were looking the other way they wouldn't know who it was". Yeah, right, because none of them would talk about it amongst themselves afterwards.

"But that would be hearsay evidence and not relevant!". True, but if everyone named the killer you would have a probablitity that not everyone was ganging up on them. And to be honest, the people involved in this normlly haven't suddenly decided murdering someone might be a good idea for a Tuesday evening, they are usually known to the Police. And most of the group are a group all the time. It isn't a murderer who has convinced a bunch of innocent bystanders to come along and just throng about whilst he kills someone.

The age old argument is that it is better that someone guilty gets off than an innocent person goes to jail. But all that does is to make sure that if you can protect the guilty then society gets no justice let alone the family. Nobody wants an innocent person to go to prison, well unless you count criminals who would rather an innocent person went to jail in their place.

I'm sorry, but if you are in a group of people that murders someone, you should have legged it before it got that serious. And until people take responsibility for their own actions, and whilst some sections of society gives them the excuse to absolve themselves, there isn't going to be any great reduction in violent crime.

Blogathon Day 17 - Five Fine Foods

I certainly enjoy the food down in the South of France but there are some things you just can't get that neccesitate a visit when I am in the UK.

1) Fish and Chips - There is a fish and chip van comes to Limoux in the summer and we got quite excited, We aren't any more. They were crap. And French restaurants, even when they do F&C, don't have the concept nywhere near right. The big Fish and Chip visit will be in March when I am back again and can go to Nash's. I probably blogged about them 2 years ago when I was last there.

2) Pie and Chips - Pukka Pies. You can't beat them. Preferably Steak and Kidney. The french don't do pies or at least not as we know them. They do a frozen oone in our supermarket but we haven't plucked up the courge to try it yet,

3) Chinese - They do Asian which covers Chinese, Japanese, Thai and Vietnamese with the emphasis being Viet. You can't get a proper sweet and sour for love nor money.

4) Indian - 8 months and we haven't found one yet. I'm not a big curry fan but I like a Korma. Not because I don't like heat but because I adore coconut.

5) Pizza - OK, they do pizza and some of it actually looks like a pizza as we know it. The problem is, because of my allergy to cheese, the only one I can eat is from Pizza Hut. Lord knows why but there you go. I have no idea where the nearest Pizza Hut to us is except I know of one in Paris about a kilometer from Gare du Nord which makes it approximately 600 km from us.

Until recently I might have put Sausage Rolls on the list but a couple of weeks back I found some which I think are pretty damn close to ones here except they have a slightly higher meat content. (i.e. there is actually some meat in it).

On this visit I have sampled numbers 2 and 3 so far. I can last till March for Number 1, just depends if I can do 4 or 5 this time, March or suffer until November when I am back after the season.

Today's handy "Oh my God I am surprised any of us are still alive" slot from the course. You know when you sometimes think you are going down with flu but it never really materialises? And sometimes it's a few days after coming back home from a fortnights holiday? It wasn't flu at all. It was a slight bout of Legionnaires Disease. And you almost definitely got it from your house!

Blogathon Day 16 - Pool of Information

So, that's the first day of the course done and we've all been given enough information to make sure we never go in a public pool again. It's all you lot's fault and your dirty habits. Tomorrow we are going to discuss the treatment of water where diarrhoea may have been a contaminant. I'm not sure many of us will be having much lunch!

Here's a couple of bits of information for you -

If your local pool still has a footbath, and it really shouldn't, avoid it like the plague, otherwise that might be what you catch.

If every pool user actually did shower before they went in the pool, as they are meant to, then pool contamination would be minimal and you'd all have a much nicer time. And it tends to be the adults rather than the children who don't pre-shower on the way into the pool.

Who knows, I may regurgitate more disgusting facts for you tomorrow!

Blogathon Day 15 - Big Business Old & New

As a wise Blogger once said "I went down to that London today".

Christ in a bucket, I forgot what a complete pain in the derriere the traffic is. It would have been quicker to drive to Greenwich from Loupia than from West London. Then again I forgot what a pain everything is in London. Anyway, I'm now firmly ensconced in the Ibis hotel which is a relief becaue I was convinced I was staying in a Holiday Inn Express and I couldn't find it. I haven't been down Greenwich way for many a year but it hasn't changed a lot but it does appear to be tarted up a bit more than it was, although I've only seen it in the cover of darkness so far.

I can actually see this view from my hotel window although I came down the road to get a slightly better shot. On the right is the Cutty Sark. The fastest Tea Clipper to have ever set sail which made a fortune in it's day. You may remember it burned down or whatever ships do when caught in a conflagration, a few years back and it now has a nice glass visitor centre that it rests on. In the background is Canary Wharf, seat of the money grabbing, blood sucking, bankers and others, (other sites of money grabbing, blood sucking bankers are available). Both are symbols of big business and interesting to be able to see them together like that.

And now I must make a confession.

It's my first time in the big city on my own since we left and I knew there was something I needed to do as soon as I got a chance. I signed in to the hotel and as soon as I could get myself ready I went on the hunt. Even in modern day Greenwich, at night it didn't take long for me to espy a likely target. And I couldn't believe I'd scored with my first attempt. Now, things always go a bit smoother, and one is less nervous if you haven't done it for a bit, with a glass of alcohol, So I asked a local barman for a pint of Kronenburg which he duly delivered for £4.50, less than I thought it was going to be and then with a quick slug of the amber nectar, (wrong marketing message), I sidled over. Checked I had not just enough money but the right money. Slowly I fumbled towards the goal and slotted it home. The firt pound coin was in and the quiz machine was all mine. 8 months since I've played. A little rusty I must say, my knowledge, not the machine, but by the end I was £1 up on the evenings entertainment so I'm satisfied with that. But now I've had a taste of it I know tomorrow night I'll be back again.

Breaking News

Following the historic meeting yesterday between Pope Francis and the Head of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Kirill, the first meeting between the heads of the Western and Eastern Christian Church since the schism in the 11th Century it has emerged that they also brokered a deal in which two of the greatest Bloggers and Geocachers of all time, Masher and Kennamatic, have finally held face to face talks.

It is understood that Kennamatic flew into the country yesterday under the guise of an old bloke coming to attend a Pool Operators course and then disappeared but we believe he has taken up temporary residence in St Albans, a place he first visited when just a child of seven to see the ruins of Verulanium. Masher left his house this morning to attend a small gathering in honour of his nieces birthday and then slipped away from the prying eyes of the World's media via the back door where it was assumed he had left for hospital in order to have surgery on a recently announced rectal problem.

We now understand that he made his way to a secret location in North Hertfordshire where a car arrived shortly after and a person, believed to be Kennamatic, hurried in, where they finally met to discuss the World's problems and their solutions to them.

As yet no pictures of this truly great moment have emerged other than one below showing a feast of cheese and chive crisps and two pints of Shandy with which each toasted the other.

The talks lasted for some time and a spokesman said that the meeting was cordial. The staff at the location have all been issued with gagging orders and no further details are expected to emerge.

French Pop

I've managed to tune in to quite a bit of French radio as I've driven about. In general it is pretty dire as we know. There are a few good singers about, Zaz, Vianney, Louanne, the latter whom we may go see in concert later this year. But there is one song that drives me completely batshit. It's Ex Fan Des Sixties by Jane Birkin. Now, I grew up with Je t'aime (moi non plus) which she recorded with her lover and svengali, Serge Gainsborough, and it spoke volumes to a teenage boy. The breathy voice she used in that record is full on in ex-fan but not sensual. Good looking girl but not exactly the best singer.

Anyway, it's really the song itself that incenses me. In it she reels off all the acts, apparently of the 60's who have passed on to the big stage in the sky. Amongst the number are; Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Elvis, Janis Joplin and then..........T Rex. T Rex! Who the fuck is T Rex?! Do you mean Marc Bolan you stupid bint?! Apart from which they had hits in the 70s. Was Serge so drug addled that he forgot and you didn't have any idea?
And not only that, it repeats it in the chorus three or four times. Aaaaarrrggh!!!!

Je t'aime, Oui! Ex Fan, Non merci!

Blogathon Day 12 - Health, but not as we know it.

I learnet something new about our French Pharmacy today. I don't know whether it is just them or if others are the same. I had to pick up a repeat prescription this morning before I fly back tomorrow. As always they were on the ball and dispensed it within about a minute, partly due to the fact that Friday is market day in Limoux and they have 5 people working the counter. That wasn't our only interaction though as we didn't understand why one of our claim forms had been returned for our prescription charges, so we asked the nice lady behind the counter. She had a look at it and gave the Gallic shrug that peppers any conversation. "I will ring them" she said, but in French. so she went off and rang the authorities on our behalf to find out what the heck they were playing at. 5 minutes later she came back to inform us that my social security number has been changed and the last claim form had my previous number on. She then got a new form and filled it all in for us, including date of birth, resulting in her pointing out that she and I share a birthday but she is two years younger.

Now, I have had really good pharmacists in the UK so, helpful as she was, that was not the interesting bit. The other thing about going in on a Friday moring is that they offer all their cusomers free croissants, pain au chocolat, pain au raisin or choquettes. No healthy glass of wheatgrass or slimming biscuit here but a nice butter laden pastry. It probably doesn't help with the weight loss, although it won't have added that many calories, but their customers go out feeling happy and that is surely a dose of good medicine.

Blogathon Day 11 - Le Croix de Cathare

The Cathar Cross is everywhere down here. We are in the middle of Cathar Country. For history buffs of the crusade period there is more history than you can shake a trebuchet at. But there is one croix de Cathare that beats all the rest. And that's available at one of our local boulangeries.

Shaped like a thick lumpy version it is made of a scone like pastry incorporating caraway seeds and glazed with sugar syrup and sugar crystals. MMMMmmmm! The caraway seed gives it a slightly aniseedy flavour and would be more savoury than sweet if it wasn't for the sugar topping. They don't make them all the time and normally it is a sunday afternoon treat but I had to pick up some bread for tea and they had some. Unfortunately I had eaten half of it before I remembered I should have taken a photo of it first. I'd hate you to miss out on that, so I might have to go buy another one tomorrow!

Blogathon Day 10 - A Woman's Work is Never Done

The Magnificent M is in charge of all our work admin, or at least quite a bit of it. She is also in charge of cleaning the houses etc for turnarounds in the season. Apart from that she obviously needs to keep me fed and watered. But now she has a new talent. Plasterer.

As part of the remedial work we are doing at one of our houses we needed to re-plaster part of a wall. I obviously can't do it. (I refer my learned readers to the wombat analogy I gave some posts ago). Marj on the other hand had all the neccessary credentials - a partner who could tell her what she should be doing, even if his advice was crap, but more importantly, she used to ice cakes. Wedding cakes. Cakes that require a good finish to the royal icing. And this appears to a transferrable skill. She has filled the wall, including a concave curve, to perfection.

She took some persuading that she should have a go at it but my hunch was right, particularly the hunch that said she would be a damn sight better than me. And she enjoyed it. When I get back from my week in the UK I suspect our own dear house is going to plastered to within an inch of it's life.

Blogathon Day 9 - List the Countries You Have Visited

Yet another one of the listography lists. You'll notice a distinct lack of long distance travel.


England - Yes, now when I am in England I am only visiting.
Wales - A few times from 1973 swimming tour up till about 4 years ago when my sister-in-sin left North Wales. I will be there this October though.
Scotland - Only the once. 1982. Perth for a training course.
Eire - 1994 for a weekend I won in a works sales competition.
France - Innumerable times
Belgium - from 1968 till the last time in 2010 only about 4 times.
Holland - Once in 1967 on a school trip. We visited Keukenhof, Edam, Delft and a place where the houses were on stilts.
Germany - 1968 and then a couple times in the early 1980s.
Austria - 1968 and then again in 1985.
Switzerland - 1968 and then again in 1972 on a school christian union trip. (One of the teachers who went with us has just been jailed for sexual offences against boys at our school in that period. He obviousy didn't like me despite my boyish good looks.
Italy - 1968
San Marino - 1968
Monaco - 1968
Balearic Islands - 1973 and 2005
Portugal - 1986 for my 30th Birthday.
USA - Houston in 1987 for my Dads re-marriage.

And I think that's it. If I hadn't gone to America I don't think I would have travelled more than 1000 miles from home. Still time though. Roll on retirement!

Blogathon Day 8 - Put The Gun Down

When we knew we were coming to La Belle France and whilst watching a TV shopping channel back in the homeland we decided that the one thing we needed because it would be a massive help was a Wagner WallPerfect Flexio 867.

Now, having been here 8 months, we have a large painting job and I need to spring into action and amaze everyone with my paint spraying skills.

The problem is I probably don't have any. As I'm sure I've said before, I have the artistic ability and manual dexterity of a retarded wombat.

It's a bad start when something incorporates the word "perfect" in it's title. The pressure starts to mount up at the very thought it should give even a good finish, let alone offer perfection.

It also delivers the paint by a gun system. I'm not overly accurate even with a spray bottle of water when cleaning windows so a couple of litres of paint being delivered at high pressure is a disaster waiting to happen.

I shall report back if I ever work out how it fits together!

I have previous with a "gun". In this particular case, the delivery of mastic to a letterbox surround at a clients house many years ago. I remembered to cut the end off the nozzle and attach it to the tube, I loaded the tube into the gun, and with the letterbox in place I proceeded to squeeze the trigger, build up the pressure and deliver a fine bead of clear mastic to seal against wind and rain.

So I squeezed, and squeezed, then squeezed a bit more. Eventually the trigger wouldn't move another millimetre and still no sign of the mastic.

Then I remembered, I hadn't cut the end off the tube. Not a problem, I took the nozzle off and proceeded to cut the end off the tube. Unfortunately, having forgotten to take the pressure off the gun. Vesuvius would have been proud of the resulting eruption. Into the air it went and then about half a tube came rushing out and down the gun, covering my arm whilst I ran around panicking about how I was going to clean the mess up. I just about managed to clean my arm with my jumper and got the excess off her door. By now the tube was de-pressurised and I was actually able to finish the job. All would have gone well if she hadn't wanted me to write my name on the cheque she was giving me.

It's not easy to write your name when the cheque keeps getting glued to your hand!

Blogathon Day 7 - Sunday's Subject

Let's all pile in and nick Mashers idea.

Limoux has a carnival. It lasts 3 months. But only at the weekends. Each Saturday and Sunday a different "guild" dress up and three times a day they parade around the square. It's supposedly an Occitan festival to keep traditional Occitan alive and each group pretty much performs in the same way but the masks make it different once you get into it.

The girls above are from the guild Les Feminas. Despite the fact you cannot see an inch of flesh, bar a well turned ankle, and the masks don't allow any expression other than that moulded onto it, they were incredibly sensual. It's the arm movements I think. They were just very smooth in all their movements, almost catlike.

Other groups have been jolly or, in the case of one lot, rather boring, but at the end of the carnival we all get to vote for our favourites. It's going to take a hell of a good guild to wrest my vote away from Les Feminas

Blogathon Day 6 - List Your Biggest Sins

I bought my brother a book called Listography for Christmas. It just a list of questions that you answer at your leisure. I was gong to use it as a basis of the 29 blog posts for Feb but, even though I had the full list since last October I didn't complete any. I shall however dip in and do some on various days.

I am of course sinless, (cough), and the seven deadly sins are way too easy to achieve so I'll check how I'm doing against the 10 Commandments.

You shall have no other Gods but me. - As someone who believes that all religions are worshipping the same God, whatever they think, I'm pretty much onside here. Virtue 1 : Sin 0

You shall not make for yourself any idol, nor bow down to it or worship it. - I was useless at art. There is no way I can make make an idol for myself. I can't even borrow one, I know of two, the green eyed yellow one just north of Katmandhu, and we've never been formally introduced and secondly, Pop Idol, which is long gone and I only flirted briefly with it. Virtue 2 : Sin 0

You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God. - Ah, I think I know what he might be getting at. I shouldn't think many will get past this one. Time to move on. Virtue 2 : Sin 1

You shall remember and keep the Sabbath day holy. - To be fair I can normally remember it's Sunday. And in fact since coming to France it's certainly a quieter day as nearly all the shops are shut, bar the bakers for our daily bread and a handful of others. As for keeping the Sabbath, it's not as easy in a staunchly Catholic country being nominally Anglican but our little local church only has a service every eight weeks and going is part of integration into the village. Hmm, I think that's a draw. Virtue 2.5 : Sin 1.5

Respect your father and mother. - When you talk about general respect for them, then I am a product of my generation, and respect is something we had for our elders. When you look at respect for each individualy then I respect my mum but always find it harder to respect my father for some of the things he did yet for some of his achievements I respect him greatly. On balance, a virtue. Virtue 3.5 : 1.5

You must not commit murder. - I can't vouch for the add ant or a million but I'm pretty clear on the human front. Virtue 4.5 : Sin 1.5

You must not commit adultery. - Well, you have to be married to committ adultery so that's quite a small window of opportunity but as that's how I met Linda I'll have to hold my hands up. Virtue 4.5 : Sin 2.5

You must not steal. - Oh. I have a bit of form. I was a little bit naughty when I was 10. W H Smiths in Ealing ended up a bit light of items as did Bensteads Book Shop in West Ealing. Virtue 4.5 : Sin 3.5

You must not give false evidence against your neighbour - Oh dear, I seem to be on a bad run. In 1972 me and my best mate were walking home from school when we were stopped by a group of boys from our rival school. We got seperated and although I was a bit shook up I was ok but they beat my mate up. Cutting a long story short, the boys got nicked and I ended up in court. Under evidence I swore that the sharpened comb one of the guys had was a knife to increase the possible sentence. Going forward about 5 years I was in the stands at Brentford when I ended up staning next to the guy with the comb and he recognised me. He was friendly enough but was at pains to explain that it really wasn't a knife but a comb. So I let him know that I knew it was. He was somewhat surprised so I explained to him the simple fact that if you hurt my friend I will cause you as many problems as I can. I might not be physically strong but there are other ways to get even. Virtue 4.5 : Sin 4.5

You must not be envious of your neighbour's goods. You shall not be envious of his house nor his wife, nor anything that belongs to your neighbour. - Ah, the old covet thy neighbours ox, eh? I'm certainly clear on the ox front. But have I coveted other's goods. Hmm. I'm trying to think of an example where I have and I can't think of one. Well, not since I was a small kid and my friend had a Johnny 7 gun and I wanted it but I think that might be forgivable. In general I aren't jealous of other people and what they own. I might wish I had millions but I'm not jealous of those who do. Virtue 5.5 : Sin 4.5

Well, that's a close one. I'm just on the side of the Angels but I better watch my step!

Homme Toutes Main

I am coming back to the UK.

But only for a week and actually only four of those days are crucial. As a "man of all hands", as the French insist on classifying me, I have a restricted number of jobs I am allowed to do and a timescale within which things should be done, e.g. no single job should take longer than 2 hours. Of course, I, along with my handyman brethren, all take absolutely no notice of the law and carry on doing what we want, declaring as little as we can and calling the government all the names under the sun. This is a very French attitude and proves I am assimilating well into a French way of life.

One way of "improving ones lot" is to pick up specialities which allow you to legally carry out specific jobs. Technically, when I look after our pools I am only supposed to check the chemicals and clean the pool. Anything else requires a specialist. So I have decided I might as well become a specialist since I already do all the stuff. To that end I am coming over to carry out a Pool Operators Course in the UK. I was told about it by a guest who stayed in one of the villas this year as he thought the content of the course might be useful, specifically the bit about the chemistry of swimming pools.

So I am flying into the UK on Saturday 13th, managing to avoid Valentines Day, whoops, and going back to France the following Saturday. I shall spend the first two days with my Mum in St Albans then on Monday move down to a hotel in Greenwich for three nights then back to St Albans on Thursday and Friday nights. The course is in Dulwich, at Alleyns School who have a pool. And it is a nostalgic trip for me as I swam in that very pool, or it's predecesser, when I was at school. Alleyns and Trinity, Croydon were our great swimming rivals. If I can manage to ruin the pool it will only have taken the thick end of 40 years to wreak my revenge for any defeats I suffered!

Blogathon Day 4 - Friends across the Ether

Good lord, it's 15 years since I started blogging. Not 15 years today but in a few months time. I won't remember when it comes to the exact date so I'll mention it now. There are any number of meets for Bloggers in and around the Capital, back home in dear Old Blighty but i managed to miss all those so, after some 5000+ days, I have only met one other blogger, Graham from Grayblog and spoken to a second on the phone. Alistair of ScaryDuck, Oh, and I've just remembered I'm a friend on Facebook with a third, Lynn, from the now defunct Bacon Cheese and Oatcakes.

In some ways it's one of the most sociable ways of meeting people. You are often in contact every day even if it is only a one way conversation. You know quite a few things about them even if it is only the face they want to show although I think Bloggers often post more on their site than they would tell their real life friends. Now I am in France, the bloggers I read and converse with are the friends I am most in contact with, even compared to Facebook as although I read I rarely comment and very rarely post anything, although I'm not exactly bombarding anyone with my blog posts either.

It can be a therapeutic relationship. And particlarly for men. We don't have the same sort of friend relationships as women. Someone who visited us earlier this month was amazed to find out that when I am with mates and her other half is with us we don't all sit around discussing the negatives of their relationship. sometimes being able to say things on blogs are the only outlet you have. Not that there is anything I need to say at the moment just in case you thought it was heading that way.

I've never been able to keep a diary, I go on for a few days and then it all goes to hell in a handcart as it does for many who decide to chronicle their lives that way, along with the other New Year resolutions people make. But, sporadic as it might be, the blogging does make interesting reading for me looking back at things I'd forgotten or realising things I thought were important or not were in fact the other way round.

A bit of an introspective post, as I've felt for much of the day. Maybe tomorrow will be lighter.

Plates of Meat

When we moved to France I decided I should eat things I haven't eaten before as long as they were in the French style. That way, if I didn't like them at least I know they were cooked correctly. So far I have tackled escargots and I can report that I like them. Chewy little blighters they are but the sauce they come in is nice where we eat them. Really they are a bit too fiddly to be dealing with but heigh ho. Today though I tacled something else.

Pigs Trotters. In Breadcrumbs. Or Pied du couchon a pane as they call it here.

As you can see, they are bony blighters but the meat is very tender and has a bit of a taste of tongue. I wouldn't rush to have them again but I wouldn't avoid them if necessary.

Frog Legs and Tripe still to go.

Blogathon Day 2 - I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside

As mentioned I went to the seaside yesterday. However, because everything is very quiet there I'm not going to blog about it. What's the point of living in the South of France if I can't tell you how exciting it is and making you jealous. So instead I'm going to list my favourite seaside locations and a brief word why. I can't do everywhere I have been otherwise it would be way too extensive and I'd have to include such places as Wells-Next-The-Sea (rather pretty and lots of shops of sea related bits and pieces) and also Happisburgh, (pronounced Hazeborough as my dad was always pleased to point out.

10) Whitby Haven't been there often, although I do remember seeing both the castle and the giant whalebones, but more importantly, it was the seaside town where my Grandma got stuck in the lavatory. Oh dear, what can the matter be......

9) Littlehampton A place to visit in my teenage years. Much as I don't like to admit it, I was very shy when I was young and going to an all boys school didn't help when it was time to approach young ladies. Anyway, I went to a party at a friends house and thanks to Dr Alcohol, and it's effect on me and possibly the girls involved, not ony did I cop off with one girl, when she went home I then copped off with another. This was my most successful 24 hour period of picking up girls in my life to date. Anyhoo, before the first girl left I persuaded her to come to Littlehampton next day on the youth club outing. Unfortunately I forgot to invite Dr Alcohol and I couldn't muster up the courage to speak to her. (anyone who knows Raj from the Big Bang Theory will get the picture). It was her friend whose party it was the night before and was also on the trip. I got a right earful from her when we got back.

8) Margate Ah! Dreamland. Went a few times on days out and then a good friend had a weekend stag party there. 14 of us went. We drank so much on the train going down that the first round in the hotel bar was all soft drinks!

7) Great Yarmouth As a youngster, having been in hospital a lot, I never really liked being away from mum. I had been a to a couple of cub camps but was always a bit homesick. My nest friends family took me camping to Great Yarmouth for a weekend as part of a bigger plan. I can't say I was overjoyed to be away but I obviously enjoyed it enough not to be homesick which made a difference some 12 months on.

6) Galveston Visited here when my Dad got remarried in Houston. Interesting architecture but not a wildly fascinating sea side town. But I knew the song and just to visit it has always meant I've enjoyed the song more as I can visualise it.

5) Weymouth A couple of years after number 9 I had a girlfriend and we went as a crowd down to Weymouth. It was a really lovely day and perhaps the one I remmeber best from our time together. Years later, in fact about 8 years ago, I visited again with some friends, one of whom had been on the original trip and liked the place just as much. A proper English seaside town.

4) Rimini The reason for going to Great Yermouth was to see if I coped away from home as the family planned to take me with them camping round Europe for 3 weeks. We went to France, Italy, Germany and Austria and is still one of the best holidays I ever had and propbably the second most important one. Rimini is memorable partly for the place itself but mainly for the lemon curd filled doughnuts which to my 11 year old tastebuds was the best thing I'd ever tasted. (Other than Leeds fish and chips of course).

3) Lyme Regis/Ilfracombe/Budleigh Salterton The first holiday I went on with the Magnificent M. We booked a week off and set sail, wel, set tyres and drove down to Dorset with no plan other than turning up in places and hoping there was a bed and breakfast somewhere. A mini adventure which she would never have done before with her ex.

2) Narbonne Plage From the moment we both visited this beach, 11 years ago this year, we knew we wanted to be there as often as possible. It was the beach here as much as the rest of this bit of France that made us realise how much we wanted to be here if only when we retired. Even ysterday, when it was pretty deserted and we couldn't even get a cup of coffee, it was nice just to walk on the beach, knowing that in 6 months time it will be packed to the gunnels. Not that we will see it then, we will be too busy, but we will get there before and after the season for a bit of a swim and a sunbathe.

1) Blackpool For me, the ultimate seaside location. People either love it or hate it. Every holiday in Leeds visiting my Grandma would entail a day trip to balckpool on a Wallace Arnold coach. When my brother did well on his o'levels my mum took us to Blackpool for the weekend. It had always been important to her too as it was to many Yorkshire people before and after the war. Then, 17 years ago I went back to Blackpool with a mate who went every year and had been nagging me to go. I had a bit of an epiphany and realised that maybe things might be able to be changed in my life and the upshot of that became being with M adn ending up in the South of France. I love the illuminations, the donkeys, the tackiness. Just everything.

Blogathon - Day 1 - A Pathetic Start

Good God! Is it a year already since the last mayhem that was Blogathon. No, actually it's only 11 months if you count the last day to now. But I'm not here to post about statistics and temporal spans but to entice you with teasers for all the things you might be reading about....

Erm, well, there's bound to be something about something or other, definitely a piece about the thing I meant to blog about the other week but I lost the will to live before I finished writing about it. I might even have had a guest blogger for a day but the Magnificent M just raised her eyebrows and shook her head in a somewhat disparaging way when asked.

I do have a possible idea what tomorrows might be about because we are off to the seaside today. Yippee!

Time restriction.

Whilst time is so short, any blogging I do will probably be on my other blog - www.loupialife.wordpress.com

France

So, we are here.

There will be updates as and when but the lack of phones and internet at home are presently stifling communication.

And We're Off

Let those trucks roll!

Bye bye UK

Almost there...

I posted on my other blog about all the goodbyes we have had.

Tomorrow at mid-day the lorry will be dropped off and we will load up what furniture and goods we are taking to France then one last night as UK residents. At about 6am on Wednesday we will drive off for our new life.

But today there was the one goodbye that I knew would be the hardest. After 35 years knowing her, 25 years of being together and the last ten as her main carer, I had to say goodbye to Linda. The emotional pain is indescribable but is the price I have to pay for the life I will be having. But that pain is as nothing to how she must be feeling tonight as she is suffering with nothing to look forward to.

Everyone says I did my best, that I put up with a lot and that they are amazed at my continuing support.

But tonight I just hate myself.

Reality Strikes

Well, it's getting a bit real now. Contracts were exchanged today on the London flat and we complete on Friday so there is much packing and moving things to storage. This now means we can progress on the French house and we can live in a friends flat for the next few weeks. I'm handing my notice in on Thursday to leave on May 23rd and Marj finishes work in another 8 days. Projected time of leaving the old country, 1st week of June.

Don't panic Captain Mainwaring!

Cracking On

We signed contracts at our solicitors this evening so the exchange should happen in the next 2 or 3 days. Then completion hopefully will be by the 26th April on the UK flat. This was good until we got back in the car and realised we might have less than a fortnight to get out. Eek! We moved a van load of stuff into storage last Saturday but there is way too much more to do. My sock drawer alone is an evenings work!

We used zipvan to transport stuff and I have to say it was incredibly easy and good value.

I've started to go through a number of "goodbye drinks". Last Sunday was for the guys I go walking with every year or so. My main friends from there I will see at least once more, maybe twice, but some I will probably never see again. Obviously though if I'm not planning to see them again ever I'm not that bothered about them. On the 16th May we are having a big all day drink up in the pub so people can drop in. There will be people there that I may not see again or at least not for a number of years as they aren't living in London or any other place we may come back to on holiday. Not sure yet how i feel about that.

Once we have the UK completion date sorted I can hand my notice in as it will be four to five weeks after that we make the big move with completion in France.

Anyway, enough of all this jibber jabber, I've a sock drawer to pack!

Nat West, Not Quite.

There aren't many people now I would suggest who don't have a bank account. One doesn't ask a lot from a bank, mainly because you'd be disappointed if you did, but one thing you would hope for would be accuracy when dealing with your money. I know banks handle billions of pounds a year and if I added up all my money from my whole life it would still be a drop in their ocean, but to me every pound is actually quite important.

For Linda, my ex, even more so. When you are homeless and living on basic benefits every penny is important, so when the bank appear to have shortchanged you by £50 it is a serious, and actually, quite a traumatic experience, that is after all about 66% of her weekly money.

Because she has been ill for a few weeks she has drawn her money from the Post Office where the government sends it, but not paid it into her bank account. So on Monday she had a few weeks money to pay in, plus one more fortnights worth to withdraw, add to it, then pay the total in. This she did adding some new £50 notes to the wad she already carried. What she meant to do was to hold back one £50 note and pay everything else in but as she sorted the money out she put all the notes in the envelope and didn't keep one for her purse. She went to the bank, just two doors away from the post office and paid all the money in.

Now, it didn't go smoothly from the beginning. Because Linda has to make sure all her records are accurate, party because she is an obsessive compulsive, and partly because she doesn't trust the Council and Benefit Agencies, she had a paying in slip for each fortnights money plus two sundry amounts. A total of 6 paying in slips. Leaving aside the matter of counting the money, the Cashier managed to mis-punch the figure for one slip and punched a separate one an extra time. Over and above this, she added all the slips up incorrectly at one point against the cash paid in but to a degree it all got sorted out whilst Linda was there, although she wasn't confident that things were right.

Linda then shot off to the supermarket and suddenly thought, "hang on, I don't remember putting the £50 note in my purse". And sure enough it wasn't there. So back to the bank she goes and says she thinks she gave them £50 too much, because purely by chance, something happened when the post office gave her the £50 notes she knew they were exactly right.

Now, this is where, as an ex-employee of the bank and also a customer who expects their bank to be accurate, it all starts to fall apart.

Linda tells them what she believes has happened. Cashier says Linda is wrong, fair enough, so Linda says could she check her till. The cashier says it will be checked and she will know because she is already carrying a £3.60 till difference. Now, to finish this bit quickly I can tell you nothing happened until we went back into the bank today to find out what they had discovered.

The meeting is Linda and myself, the Manager and the cashier involved.

Regarding the £50 they say they didn't have it but in fact as a gesture of goodwill, they are crediting her account as they know her. So Linda is not out of pocket. So that bit might be all well and good. The point I raised was how did they know they hadn't got it. I asked if they had discovered where the £3.60 till difference was. No, said they. So I point out that in that case they can't be sure whether they had the £50 or not. If the till is wrong, the till is wrong. (I should point out in my day, nobody left the branch at the end of the day until all the tills had balanced. To the penny. A till difference of £100+ that couldn't be found and the cashier was suspended). What the manager explained was that these days they don't bother if the amount involved is small. I asked what that amount was, and he said anything under £20.00. I ponted out, a till difference of £10 could be made up by shortchanging one customer £90 and overpaying another one £100. And believe me, I've known it to happen, even to the best of cashiers. Well if that should happen the bank wouldn't investigate because the balance is under £20. So basically, if a cashier makes a number of mistakes they won't bother checking it too much as long as the overall difference isn't too much.

By the end of the meeting, Linda was in tears and the cashier was in tears. The problem for both of them is that because of the bank's policy, both are left in the air not knowing whether either of them is right. the cashier still has an air of suspicion over her that she did her job wrong and Linda feels the bank think she is trying it on.

I have a feeling that if I go to pay in £100 tomorrow and jut give them £85.00, when they complain the money isn't right, they aren't going to accept my plea that it's only £15.00 out, it doesn't really matter. And how come a cashier can be wrong by £20.00 but you go 1 penny overdrawn and the bank will be in touch pdq. When a bank can be that lackadaisical about the basics of cashiering in a branch you can see how there might be an ethos in the organisation where nobody is keeping an eye on the money and your investment arm might be doing things they shouldn't.

Just in case the Head of Nat West Customer Services is reading this, you can expect my letter demanding an answer to how you can be so frivolous with the money entrusted to you by your customers. Remember, the only money your organisation has, comes from the likes of Linda, myself and other readers of this site. Without our money, you have no money to work with, no wages and no jobs.

Baroque & Roll

I like baroque music, both orchestral and choral. I can't think of a day or an occasion that couldn't be brightened by it being accompanied by Zadok The Priest. But there is one genre of Baroque music that I can't stand. And that's Baroque Opera. My God, it's dire. I saw my first Baroque opera about 9 years ago, Dido and Aeneas. It contains one of the most famous arias, the cheerful When I am Laid in Earth. See how long you can last before having to rip your ears off.

This weekend we went and saw our second, The Prophetess or The History of Dioclesian by Henry Purcell. Some of his choral work is sublime. This isn't. It was three hours of my life I'll never get back. We went because a friend was in it. People left at the interval. We couldn't unfortunately because she would have realised. We both lost the plot of the story a few minutes in. And we lost the will to live a short time after.

It takes a lot to find something musical that makes compositions by Stockhausen sound good, but this did it. The only thing worse than Baroque Opera is Chinese Opera which sounds like a cat being put through a mangle and it's innards being used as the musical instruments.

With luck and a following wind that might be the last I ever have to hear. Unfortunately there are a number of French composers of the same era and I might then have to suffer not only a Baroque Opera but in a language I don't understand. Then again, maybe that will be an improvement.

Loupia Life - The Blog

Sightly premature as we haven't moved yet, but then there are things I already want to write, this is the web address for the blog where I will write about our big adventure.

https://loupialife.wordpress.com/

There won't be lots on there, three or four posts at the moment, until we move, although there will be a flurry in a couple of weeks time when we go out there for a week to start learning the ropes. Some of the stuff on there already, particularly the "about" page, probably contains much you have read on this blog.

There will be some other pages added, one on food and drink, another on local sights, maybe even a geocaching page if I have the time and inclination!

I shall continue to run this blog for some stuff that isn't France related and I will try to keep the two well apart. I'm not so worried about people coming from this site through to the other but from there to here, which is one reason for de-branding from Kennamatic and using the W host rather than Blogger. And nor will I put up a link in the side bar to the new site.

Anyway, feel free to saunter over at your will and I'll see you there, here or at both.

Missing

Well there we go. I managed to miss the last day of the Blogathon which would be really annoying if I hadn't posted late for a couple of others and even the day before was clicked through at 11.59pm. But well done to Mr Jones, and Mr Masher.

The other thing missing today is a phone call from my father. This will be the second year it is missing. He could never remember how old I was and I'm not dead sure I'd have got a card on the right day if it hadn't been for the women in his life, but then I'm not overly good myself although mine is because I'm so unorganised, but every St David's Day he would ring. I would be wished a happy celebration, I would have an update on whether the daffodils were out in The Broads and for how long if they were. We would then struggle to think of any other conversation we might want to have and then that would be it for another year.

The last thing missing this morning is my breakfast and it's already gone 10 so I'm off to get it!

The Long Goodbye

I suspect much of the next two months is going to involve saying goodbye to people. At this distance it is poeple I may have known a long time but are more acquaintances than friends.

Tonight I took part in the quiz at the local bowls club. I will see the members of my team again at least a couple of times but the rest of the people there, well, I doubt it. I've been going there since the early 1980s, not always often, but it spans over half my life, if only just.

Last night I resigned as Chairman of HLO, my musical theatre group. I will be seeing these people regularly until we go but there will now be an EGM and I will be replaced, swiftly.

It seems strange having said goodbye to some people whilst others I know much better and am closer to, particularly my immediate work colleagues, have no idea about France other than it's where I go on holiday.

Once it gets down to saying goodbye to my closest friends, even though I will see them relatively often, I suspect that is when it will really hit home that we are going and life is going to be changing very significantly.

And with a wave of a wand.....

.......we can build a city the size of Newcastle. Or it is to be hoped we can. So Nett Migration is just short of 300,000 for last year. Forget it is migration. How do we support 300,000 extra people with infrastructure each year. And to be fair, that isn't population growth which will be higher than that. It has taken 4 months to get Planning Permission to change the windows at our flat. A third of a year. As a country we needed to have built a third of Newcastle in that time. I bet we haven't.

And I'm sure we wouldn't, because the more you look at the way things work in the UK, it seems to involve no decision making but a lot of discussions and consultations. We will talk about how we accommodate all the extra people, what we need to do, how much do we need to do, how will we do it, and, oh heck, another party has got into power so we need to re-discuss all this again.

Oh well, at least the figures for this year will be two less than they would have been.

Although we are moving lock stock and barrel to France, when we retire we will have a place there and another back here, as we always planned come our glorious retirement. We can never afford to come back to London and so we know it will probably be halfway between London for seeing M's daughters and Nottingham for seeing M's sister. I suspect by then we may have had to build so many houses, particularly around the Capital, that we may be moving to the London Borough of Peterborough.

Parked

Today's driving experience.

On the way to work - A long wait whilst the passengers of a recently arrived train at Brentford Station came out and crossed the zebra crossing. All leaving just enough space so cars can't go so we waited whilst somewhere between 100 and 150 people sauntered across the road like a school crocodile.

On the way to after work meal in Shepherds Bush - I have to sit in the inside lane of Shepherds Bush Roundabout with my left hand indicator flashing away unable to go left as I am undertaken constantly by cyclists, motor scooters and motor bikes who all have "the right" to undertake/filter regardless of whether it might be deemed wise so to do and are damn lucky I just don't decide to go as I was in position well before any of them were in sight of me but if I did it would be my fault.

Food for Thought

There was an article on the BBC website this morning which I now can't find which is a pity because I wanted to at least refer to it in detail if not to link to it. It would also allow me to use the correct terms which I fear I do not remember or could misspell. So bear with me if you spot any glaring errors or omissions.

The article referred to the Sikh practice of providing meals at their temples for people to come and share. I think it is called langar but it is a founding principle of the religion. I have known for ages that this is something that happens because I knew some Sikhs who ran a restaurant and had some of the literature there and it cropped up in our discussions and I've also read about it in the newspapers years back when I would read such publications.

Now, there is one thing about knowing this act of charity goes on but totally another in realising how big an undertaking it is. The largest Sikh temple in the UK, I believe, is the gurdwara in Southall. It throws it's doors open each day to people who wish to come and eat, for free, with nothing in return but to show some respect for the surroundings, to not be under the influence of alcohol and to cover one's head which is an important part of their faith. Not unfair requests in return for a free meal. What I wasn't prepared for were the number of people passing through each day.

It averages 5000 per day midweek, rising to 10,000 per day at the weekends.

Now I know that not everyone going there is going because they are in need. Some will be there because it is their community and one way of joining in with communal meals, others just because they like the company and are from other Sikh communities making contact with a different gurdwara etc. I would imagine that the big increase at the weekend is not made up of the very needy but some of the travelers and local community members who work in the week and this is their chance to socialise. But the 5000 in the week? Many of them must be non-working. Again maybe not all homeless or needy, but how small a percentage do you think it might be and still not think the number is too high. If they are homeless or living on a desperately low wage then even if 10% fell into that category you are talking 500 people who are hungry enough, or poor enough to have to go there to eat, and if they are that poor they probably haven't travelled by car or come long distances.

It is like the foodbanks. There are more and more people needing charity to survive. In another three months there will be an election. I don't see where there is any likelihood of a party being elected who will make a difference.

Every Nook And Cranny

I have never had a private survey done on a property I have bought. I've had the building society one which is basically them checking they can't get their fingers burnt. In France their is a different system whereby the seller has to have a full survey done, And full certainly covers it. It may cost about £450 but it runs to some 75 pages of very detailed information. Checking especially for asbestos (11 pages), lead (9 pages) and termites (17 pages). All is well on our property, the stuff that is there is not is a dangerous condition. But in addition, every room has a detailed description of how the walls, ceiling and flooring are constructed. A complete electrical check. A complete check of the swimming pool runs to a further 7 pages. The only thing missing appears to be a blade by blade check of the lawn.

Now, maybe that is what we get for a private survey but I suspect not. People complain about French bureaucracy but when you are buying a house it isn't half reassuring to have all that information.

Even if it going to take us 6 months to translate it!

Beat Your Neighbour

Last September we had a couple of students move into one of the flats in our block. Now. we have had very little trouble from them because we are on the opposite side from them and we are at the back but once in a while we can hear rowdiness in the communal hallway and a definite smell of waccy baccy when their windows are open. A week last Friday there was another party in the flat and it all kicked off.

We were out that evening but when we got back at 11.45 the music was going. And then the next day the first email to the managing agent hit the system. We are very much in the loop because The Magnificent M is a director of the block and the first complainant was the other director, J. J has been like a dog with a bone. Demanding everything from them being evicted within the hour to having a procession of burning torches and throw them out of town. Well maybe not quite the latter but pretty close to it.

Now, whilst none of J's demands can be met as we have to do things properly the tenants don't really stand much of a chance.

The company I work for manage the flat, so I have all the inside knowledge of all the negotiations between tenants, landlord and ourselves, although it isn't in my area. M's daughters work for them as well and one of them is about to become the boss of the management pod that do run that flat. The lettings manager is a friend of Ms daughters and won't want to upset them. And today we discovered that the owner of the flat that has been most affected is a Detective Sergeant. And the management company prefer a quiet life and want them out too.

I think the odds are stacked up against them remaining there long.

Cold Turkey

I have a problem when I move to France. Diet Coke.

Since 1988 when I started driving for a living I have always been accompanied by diet coke. Any time other than in the car I can drink anything else I like, but driving, it has to be diet coke. I have a bit of a rule of thumb that I will only pay a maximum of 30p per can, although in all honesty I will pay more if there is no offer but I begrudge it.

The problem is, it's rarely less than the equivalent of 60p per can over there. And my Yorkshire sensibilities cannot cope with the idea of paying twice as much. So either I wean myself off slowly but miss out on my last chances to quaff gallons, or keep going and hit a wall when the supplies I take with me run out.

It's a quandary.

The Bionic Woman

I had a day off today so we could go up and see my mum. We'd planned this a few week back although it did allow us to tell her today that we were moving so that was good. As was the fact my brother popped in so I could tell him too. However, that's a by the by.

The last time I saw my mum she was still getting over her knee replacement. Today, we walked up into town and she went off like a greyhound out of the trap. And that's with just one knee done. She now has a date for the second op in mid may. God knows what she will be like after that. I'm assuming she will be training for the next Olympics.

The good thing for us is that when we saw her last she wasn't sure she could travel as far as Southern France. Today she was working out which of the ways to travel would work best. Probably after the second op jogging might become an option.

And So It Begins......

It has happened. Last Sunday we had a letter through our door from a young couple who had seen the flat on Saturday. They loved it, and they will be starting their married life here. So much did they love it that they offered £2000 over the asking price just in case anyone else viewed the flat in the next day or two and hit the asking price. They had let the Agent know as well and during today the agent confirmed all the preliminaries had been done and the offer was confirmed, accepted and agreed.

We are going to France bar something now going horribly wrong with the actual sales process, and it really shouldn't he says, touching everything wooden in reach.

We have confirmed with the French house owners that we are now ready, they have agreed a total price for house and business and have started the preliminaries for the French purchase.

It hasn't quite sunk in yet.

Nous allons en France!

Plenty of Tongue.

I like a bit of tongue. With tomato sauce. In fact I'm actually eating a tongue sandwich as we speak. But that's not my favourite. In fact it's number three on my list.

My second favourite meat based sandwich is pate with onion. Preferably a smooth Brussels pate. That works so much better against the crunch of the raw onion.

But top of the sandwich pops is corned beef. Preferably with coleslaw but I'm not averse, once again, to a coating of tomato sauce.

It is also number one on the price list too. When did corned beef become so expensive? When I were a lad it was a cheap meat, something you might have because ham or a sliced roast meat was too expensive. And there was nothing better of a Sunday tea time than to open a tin of Fray Bentos corned beef. With it's little key to "unzip" it, and the near lethal edges with which you could slice your fingers as you tried to prise the tin from the meat.

Maybe that's why I like the tomato sauce on it.

Watching Paint Dry

So we got in this morning to discover we had a power cut. No phones. No computer. No heating. No Kettle. No light in the toilet!

And without electricity we discovered we can't do a thing. Absolutely everything depends on being able to access the intranet.

It was our new girl's birthday to day so that was nice. We all had a chat about what we did last night. Then what we might do tonight. Phones were checked. We tidied drawers, handbags, and cleaned desks, phones, computer keyboards.

So now it was 9.30 and so all we could do was sit around and chat, then chat less, then have heated discussions on contentious issues. And go for lunch.

And still no electricity.

More talking, eating of birthday cake, making paper planes, anything to stop the boredom.

At 3.30 we were told the electric wouldn't be back on until 5.15 to 5.30. Home time.

So the team leader rang the boss and asked whether we could shut down for the rest of the day. No.

4.55. The lights came on,the phones reset themselves, the computers fired up, the connection to the internet spluttered slowly into life.

Just time to see how much work we would have to catch up with tomorrow.

For Gods sake, there's tons of it.

Fingers crossed there's no electricity in the morning otherwise it'll be hell.

A turn for the better

We had a new member of staff join us today. Always an interesting event when you are a small team. With only four of us, to have a fifth is quite an intrusion into our cosy little world. The previous person she replaced was, well I don't know what to say really, other than he was very "Russian". Indeed, he was from Russia, well actually he wasn't, he was from one of the ***bekistans, can't remember which, but he had grown up under the yoke of communist rule, and boy, did it show! One colleague, who remembers the Soviet Union, just, and myself, easily, had to try and explain to the youngsters in their 20s just what we meant by "Russian". He was suspicious of any authority, complained vehemently about Britain and it's ways, hated being here, but as we were once forced to point out, as he has been here 22 years, it obviously wasn't so bad he wanted to return to the red side. For instance, he told two of the twenty-somethings in the office that, if his daughters grew up like them, he would be deeply ashamed of them. Not the best way to endear yourself to your colleagues.

Anyway, one day he completely lost it in the office. And I mean completely. Tin foil hat stuff. Convinced because his name appeared on a Council form as one of our landlords agent, the Council and Government would come to get him. That he was being framed by the Landlord. And in addition Head Office were bugging his mobile phone.

From the moment the new girl walked in, smiled and said hello, you could almost hear the sigh of relief. We could be mistaken yet, but the general feeling is she not a complete raving lunatic

Ancient

There are many things which make me feel old. How long I've known certain friends, when I started/left each school. Talking about news events and the 20/30 year olds have no idea what I am talking about such as The USSR and the Iron Curtain. But another one has just hit me.

My Sunday afternoons are often spent listening to Johnnie Walker's Sounds of the 70s.I like JW, always have, possibly because we share the unenviable feat of failing 8 O'levels in one go. But he's just played a record I've always loved, and associate with my teenage years and all that angst and girls etc. So I now know that 43 years ago, yes, a whole 43 years ago, this became number 1.

Without You - Nilsson

Another Hiccough

Yes, I missed the midnight deadline again, but when you've presented your other half with a Valentine present they like, (see below), you never know which way the day may turn. But it didn't turn in the direction of me sitting on the laptop all evening. Then again, not leaving posting until the evening would possibly be a good idea!

Rush Job

Having just got in from work, showered, dressed and having to go out again in ten minutes I need to knock out a quick blog for tonight. So Iam cheating a bit. Whilst I eat what I hope will be a great meal at Chez Lindsayyou can finally get to see the death trap shower rail.

At least the light is IP rated!

Super School

We have been watching Britain's Biggest Primary. The statistics are astonishing. There's plenty tp read in a number of reviews so I won't rehash them here. Quite a few are mentioned in this article.

One fact that came out was that when the present headmaster took over in 1999, 10% of the school had English as a second language, now, only 10% have English as a first language. And that is what mainstream politicians don't grasp. Voters in that area are possibly moving towards UKIP as they feel "swamped" and not part of "a vibrant multicultural society". And if they do move towards UKIP they are "racist" say the middle class of the home counties.

And for those who think teachers have an easy life, you might want to read the bit in the article where the headmaster talks about working 7 day weeks during the summer holidays to get everything ready.

All of Life is There

I have to say that I rather enjoy the world of property management. Like most jobs it can certainly be stressful and after 31 years of not working in an office I'm finding some days feel rather claustrophobic, but I always missed the social side of being in an office environment and to be fair, it's helped by having a small but friendly team to be with now, so it seems like a good decision.

The other thing like most jobs, is that some of the clients you have to deal with are "characters" and some of the situations a little different.

Just today we have had a tenant on the phone in a panic because a light bulb had blown and she wanted us to send out a contractor to change it for her. Now if it was an old lady we might well do, and sometimes if they are very high ceilings and the landlord has provided no ladder we will also do it. This was a perfectly fit 20 something woman who decided that this is a rented flat and she shouldn't have to do any "repair" work. We sadly had to disabuse her of that point of view.

We had a landlord who wants compensation because, despite being told what her electricity bill was going to cost her, despite being given all the bank details she needed to pay it, despite asking us to chase Southern Electric for a hardcopy of the bill for her records which has taken SSE 5 weeks to send, she has decided because it only turned up today and we scanned it in and sent it straight out, it's our fault that the payment is overdue. Because she doesn't think it's her fault, nor Southern Electric's. What makes it worse, is that we don't even manage her property so we shouldn't have been helping her out anyway.

And occasionally you see some building repair that isn't perhaps quite up to standards. Like the one my colleague saw yesterday. The shower curtain rail was a bit wobbly, so they did what anybody might do, they secured it by wrapping wire round it and then securing the other end of the wire to the light bulb holder on the ceiling. I may append the photo to this post tomorrow, because you wouldn't believe anyone could be so stupid.

The X Factor

Not sure how long we have to go now until the election. Certainly less than 100 days. Certainly fed up of it already.

I have no idea who to vote for. At all. I really don't think there is much choice at all. I don't trust any of them to do anything positive at all. I think their only priority is doing something to get them voted in (again) next time. Traditionally I am a Conservative. I was pro Thatcher. But I could no sooner vote for them as fly. I have a mate who has always voted for the Labour party. He can't bring himself to do it.

I can't say I've heard anybody looking forward to the election. Knowing who they will vote for. I would be very worried for Al Murray who is standing against Nigel Farrage. I suspect there is a reasonable chance he could get elected. I can imagine there are a number of people who will think, sod it, he really can't be worse than the rest of them and we might get a laugh. And it's not like he can form a government on his own. So it's a good fun vote with nothing too terrible as a result. Unless perhaps you have tickets for his upcoming tour.

I think one of the reasons for the malaise is that there aren't any politicians with any conviction for what they stand for. How can the Labour party have an education minister called Tristram Hunt. He didn't grow up in an inner city slum did he. When will the conservatives have someone in the Government who has been on benefits. Both main parties are packed to the rafters with politicians with politics degrees but no real life experience any more. Which is why the moment they say something and someone objects they change their minds. Policies haev to be leaked in advance to see if it might be popular with your core voters.

I suspect the outcome of the election will be a particularly low turnout. So I've looked at some of the odds. And I reckon there is a bargain. The odds for a turnout of 40% - 44.99% is 500/1. 45% to 49.99%turnout is 66/1 which is still worth a punt. I think we will have the lowest turnout for an election for a long time.The lowest ever was 1918 at 57% so to lose an extra 10-15% is probably unlikely but last time it was only 65% and that had been rising for the last three elections so I do think there is a chance of the lowest turnout ever.

Still, a fiver at 500/1 would sort out this years summer holiday. And if it happens at least I can guarantee that someone has come out on top.

The Kindest Thing

Last august I bought myself a second car very cheaply on ebay. It was to serve a specific purpose and, by and large, it achieved it. The MOT has run out though so I decided I would put it in for the test because if it didn't need much work I'd have it done and use it a bit longer. I knew it needed a couple of tires and possibly a bulb in the brake lights.

So I waited in line for an hour and fifteen minutes whilst those in front got a pass or a fail and decided what to do. At last, it was out turn. Me and Chobs, for that is his name. First things first, up he goes on the ramp. Right enough, two tyres need a change. On to the tracker rods. Nope they aren't good. The guy looks along the sills prodding them every now and again and then making marks on the bodywork nearby.

At this point the technician called me across.

"It's not good is it" I say.

"I think the kindest thing is to stop this now and bring him down" says he.

But first he showed me the sills, where they were very spongy, by poking his finger at the relevant spot, until his finger went through, and nearly cut the whole thing off. He swore. Prolifically.

And with that, when the bloody flow was stemmed, Chobs was lowered and that was as far as the MOT went. 10 minutes. Condemned.

But it still cost me the full MOT fee though.

Anybody want to buy an uneconomic to repair death trap?

Time Difference

So here I am in San Francisco where it is still Sunday.

Well, maybe not.

What actually happened was that I went up to see my mum and ended up staying overnight without being attached to my computer. Which will teach me to follow in Mashers footsteps and procrastinate. Although to be fair, as being somewhat older than him, he follows in mine.

Profitability

Next week we are off out for a friends birthday meal. I've checked out the menu in advance so I can savour the anticipation.I also checked out the wine list. I was glad to see there were some southern French wines from the area we visit. Then I realised one of them is a wine we know well. Even to the domaine, which means it is a wine we brought back with us. I won't be sorry to drink another bottle but the price might sour the taste a little bit. They are charging £21 per bottle. We bought it for the euro equivalent of £1.79. That gives them a mark up of 1173% assuming they didn't get a better discount than you get for buying just a case.

I think wine in restaurants must be one of the most marked up items there is. I know the food is many times the cost of the raw ingredients but you can accept that you are also paying for the skill of the chef. The cost of cooking and the equipment needs to be taken into account but the only overhead of the wine from supplier to table is transport. Yes,there are profits to make, other overheads to cover,butwine is a little over the odds I would suggest.

Junior Choice.

The Magnificent M and I have spent the last hour trying to find the next couple of things to show her music loving class. They are seven.

Previous favourites have included;

Queen of the Night Aria from The Magic Flute.
The Rite of Spring - Stravinski
Chattanooga Choo Choo - Glenn Miller
The Dying Swan - Whatever ballet, not my thing.

We were thinking something by the Pasadena Roof Orchestra
Some tap dancing by The Nicholas Brothers
Tubby the Tuba
The well known bits of Riverdance.

Any suggestions? Always best when it has film with it. They thought the dancing to Chatanooga was fascinating.

The London Highway Code

PEDESTRIANS

It is no longer required that you look in either direction when crossing the road.

Under no circumstance should you hurry to cross the road.

If you should inadvertently catch the eye of an approaching car's driver make eye contact and look quizzically at them. Then, without speeding up, carry on sauntering across the road at a leisurely pace. If you were crossing at a diagonal angle please do not veer onto a straight course.

CYCLISTS

It is a requirement that you use lights. Preferably dotted at various points around your body and the bike. It would be better if they were both a variety of colours and flashing.

Should you decide for some obscure reason you wish to wear a helmet, please make sure it incorporates a camera stuck on with duck tape. It is certainly important that you have video evidence of any car who deigns to go through a green light whilst you have right of way passing through a red light. It is important that you take the opportunity to mark the offending car by hitting the bodywork and shouting "Tosser" at the driver regardless of sex, colour or creed.

On major trunk roads where a dedicated cycle lane has been provided please ignore it as this is for old people, losers and children. You can stick to the trunk road because you are awesome and so much better than them.

Always wear clothing that blends in with the prevailing light conditions.

MOTORCYCLISTS

We have updated the rules regarding "filtering". You are now able to undertake, overtake and weave in and out of traffic at will. Cars are restricted to using only the left hand side of the road but motorcyclists are exempt.

If for any reason you feel you may be about to be involved in an accident because you have misjudged your route whilst going 80mph in a 30mph zone, try to veer into a bus lane and hit a car turning left proving they weren't paying attention and endangering your life.

MOTORISTS

You are to blame. Whatever happens. You are to blame.

But it isn't all bad news. We have introduced a new game to improve your reflexes whilst driving. When at traffic lights there is a prize for the first motorist to hoot their horn as the lights go green. If you are new to this game we suggest you check the lights that have a countdown on them. This should help you co-ordinate your attack. The present record for a London driver is 0.00000001 nano-seconds.

If you find yourself held up by a motorist who has selfishly blocked your progress for half a second you are required to drive alongside them, block the entire road for five minutes whilst shouting at them as to why they have wasted your time when you are in an incredible hurry.

Special rule for Mercedes Benz and BMW drivers. We have reserved your right to park in spaces that other drivers foolishly think are for disabled drivers. Idiots. We know they are for you because you are elite and above everyone else.

Passing the Time

I go through phases of what will entertain me during the hours that I really can't be bothered to do anything else. Once upon a time it was crosswords, and then the same sort of thing but with clues leading to numbers for the grid. IN more odern times it was Suduko, then I had a longish affair with Nonograms but for the last couple of months it has been Mathdoku, a sort of Suduko Plus.

The easy ones take a couple of minutes, the harder ones can take a number of attempts before I get them right and can fill in quarter of an hour and a lot of swearing under the breath.

It seems much too easy to sit here tapping away doing one of these than reading a book or possibly even blogging, which may explain the dearth of posts.

It'll pass soon no doubt, I'll get bored with them, and then I'll have to mpve on to something else.

Any suggestions?

Playing God one way or another.

So, tonight the House of Commons has voted to allow three parent babies. The chance to change the genetics of a child to make sure they are free of certain genetic illnesses/diseases.

I am always interested in these medical advances. As we know, I am indeed related to a potato genetically or at least chromosonically(?). Part of my Kleinfelters Syndrome is that I can't have kids, and even though it is only on the last few years that has been medically confirmed I have "known" this all my life. To me I could cut that cake in one of two ways, either God has decided I wasn't to procreate or, through natural selection, I was not chosen to continue my line as I would weaken further the stock. Whichever, the result was the same. And I have been content with my lot. Never have I considered using medicine to overturn the Will of God nor to disobey the laws of natural selection. But today's vote opens up a new "choice.

When I was born, nobody had heard of Kleinfelter as he didn't discover the syndrome until the 1980s. Even as recently as 2010, when I was treated for the Sertoli Cell tumour they had no idea that was linked to Kleinfelters. If my mum became pregnant today, and no-one would be more surprised than her as she's 83 but stick with this, they could test for it. And one must suppose that if she wanted a planned pregnancy, with a little help from a second female, all the problems I have had in my life medically, could be swept away. So tonight, instead of wondering whether such a thing would ever be possible, it now is. And if I could advise my mum as to what to do...........

Keep me as I am. I would rather be this me than the other one.

One of the big arguments of the pro camp is that it does nothing to change the personality. But of course it does. Not by nature but by nurture. I am who I am because of the things that shape me. And then they always thinks the "improved" child will have a better life. But that's the same thinking that says if you hadn't given away that penalty in the first half you wouldn't have lost. But all it means is it would be different, not necessarily better.

So, I can't help but feel this is a retrograde move. But of course, I might feel differently if it was going to be my child and something way more serious than being a bit of a potato.

The Great Adventure

So, three posts back, or four months ago if you'd rather, I teased you with "some potentially exciting news". Since then it has seemed likely on some days and unlikely on others. Indeed, if I had posted this yesterday I would have said it was unlikely yet today it has suddenly moved forward.

So here we go.

There is a possibility that we are going to up sticks and move to the South of France within the next few weeks or months. About 10 minutes outside Limoux,some 20 minutes from Carcassonne. The story of how this came about will be for another day but maybe I'll finish my working life there instead of overcrowded London.

So instead of spending my evenings in front of the tele I might spend it in the pool.

Or if I can't walk as far as that, maybe a glass of wine on the terrace under the vines.

So, for the sum of £195,000.00, we will take over a property management company and purchase the owners house.




That's the 6 bedroom house where the shutters are, plus the wide building to the left which will convert into another 6 bed house, or separate appartments.

And all funded by a 2 bedroom flat in Isleworth leaving a £100k spending money.That's how ridiculous London prices are, or maybe French prices.

So the flat is on the market and if we can sell it in the next few weeks we go, if not, we probably won't. It's in the lap of the Gods. And our estate agent.

Another February, Another Blogathon.

Hurrah, it is that time of year when some of us put ourselves through the stress of trying to write something every day. And already I am up against it as I wake to find I have man flu. Having had a sore throat for two days and I now have a bit of a cough as well. My voice has gone down about seven octaves to make Barry White sound like a castrati which I am using to good effect by lying about on the settee moaning in a deep and sexy sort of a growl. However, The Magnificent M appears to be inured to it and is refusing to cook me a full english. How I suffer!

So the good news is that the post I would have posted today can be used tomorrow, so now I can go back to moaning loudly in the hope that I might get a decent lunch. Or maybe a roast for tea. Or possibly just a raised eyebrow and a look to me that says, yeah, like that's going to happen.

Horrendous Hiatus

Gosh. Four months since I posted. That must be a record. Even when I gave up blogging I don't think I managed 4 months. However, we know what is coming up shortly. And before Masher poses the question, in the words of TVs Dragons - I'm In!

Visiting The Past

I have some potentially exciting news. But you can wait for that. Instead, today you can have this.

Later today I will be doing something I haven't done, I think, for 46 years. It coincides with something I haven't done for I think about 30 years, and lastly, another event from maybe 35 years ago.

How do all these things come up on one day. Because a very rare alignment has taken place for the first time in over 60 years.

Because this afternoon I will visit Griffin Park to see Brentford vs Leeds United. The first time they have played against each other in my lifetime.

The last time I saw Brentford was against Watford at Wembley in about 1985. They lost.

The last time I went to Griffin Park I was in my teens And Ollie Mansley and John O'Mara were paying.

The last time I watched Leeds live it was the classic team of Sprake, Reaney, Madeley, Bremner, Charlton, Hunter, Lorimer, Clarke, Jones, Giles and Gray. I think I was 11, maybe 12. These were the days when they still had leather footballs. Pitches in the winter would be mudbaths. Forwards learnt how to ride tackles and if they ended up on the ground they got up quick to a) prove they weren't hurt and b) to carry on trying to get the ball in the net. Not for these men the idea of writhing in agony because someone came within 20 yards and gave them a harsh look.

Now, were did I put my Leeds scarf, bobble hat and rattle!

Blind Panic

I do wish Diamond Geezer would give a warning when he is going to do his annual mention to all of us who have him on their blogroll. If he had I could have posted something arty or highbrow and made sure I posted regularly. Instead I feel like you've all walked into the room and me just in my underwear. (Sorry to those having breakfast for that visualisation). So thanks for dropping by but I suspect there are others who will hold your interest further down the list.

My Old Dutch

"We've been together now for forty years" as the old music hall song says. Although, in this case, it's not the Magnificent M with whom I reach 10 years next June 1st, but the world of work.

40 years today I was gainfully employed by Nat West Bank in Margaret Street just off Oxford Street. The branch is no longer there although I occasionally walk past the building and memories of the people I worked with come back. Although today was my official anniversary I didn't actually turn up for three days as I was ill with nerves. Every time I went to get the tube into London I just felt sick. In the end, on day three, my dad paid for me to go by taxi. My first month's wage was £75.00. Rich beyond my wildest dreams. I gave my mother £25.00 and the other £50 went on fares, lunches, booze, clothes, a Donovan LP but as far as I can work out, no women.

But that isn't the only 40th anniversary this month. I can't remember the exact date in July but 40 years ago this month I passed my driving test. I took an online theory test and "recognise the traffic signs" quiz yesterday and was pleased, although I didn't get 100%, I got in the 90%s for both. I suspect that's better than most of the people on the road at the moment if the last couple of days is anything to go by. Petrol was under £1 per gallon. My first car was a C reg Austin 1100. There was room under the bonnet for a couple of passengers, not like engines today where you lift the bonnet and are confronted with a large flat plate of metal. You could change the spark plugs easily where now the engine block has to come out at great expense, or it does whenever mine needs a service. And to celebrate I have a new car. New to me, but 14 years old to the world. A Citroen Xsara Picasso. It's known as the doggy car at home as the previous owner had a number of dogs, the smell of which is lingering despite a deep clean. But for £400 on ebay it's a bargain. Perfect for carrying my Everest Kit and on the motorway can do over 800 miles to the tank of diesel. Hmmm. I feel a list coming on....

Socksed Up

I am obsessed. Obsessed with socks. But not just any socks. M&S socks. But not just any M&S socks. The plain ones. In their lovely colour coded packs of 7. I probably already have 40 pairs and I noticed new lots in this week. 6 sets. That's another 42 pairs. Including a limeish green one. and some rather fine purple ones. Actually, there's only 5 lots to get because I bought the ones with the green in them.

I just can't get enough socks! (fnarr fnarr)

Un petit coin de paradis

We rarely head up into town. It all seems too much trouble with the crowds, the travel, be it by tube train or road. We sometimes go to the Southbank which is easy to get to for us and we usually go if there are any free concerts. We sometimes do a quick dash to Chappels to buy music, early on a Saturday, when there is little traffic. But now we have another destination.

Thursday was the Magnificent M's birthday. A friend had bought tickets for Phantom of the Opera so we headed in after work and looked for somewhere to eat. Everywhere seemed to be full with a waiting time for tables and we only had just over half an hour. Just as we thought it might have to be McD on the hoof I turned and saw a small french restaurant. The menu in the window looked good and a reasonable price. They asked if we'd booked but the manager gave the girl a table number and I explained we wouldn't be long.

O! M! G! as those younger than me by a generation might say. If they had picked the place up from Bedarieux and dropped it there it couldn't have been more French. The dishes on the menu are properly French and are executed in a French style. Or at least the ones we had were. M & I had the Warm Chicken Liver Salad and our friend has Duck with Peach. The only problem was we couldn't do it justice because we had to rush.

The only thing that stops it being completely authentic is that although they bring you water as you want it you don't get bread automatically. And the wine is a bit expensive compared to France but the food and wine is good value for Central London.

The restaurant in question is Le Troisiemeon Panton Street off Haymarket.

If you like French food, cooked in a French style in a typical French Restaurant then get yourself down there. But make sure you do the meal justice by allowing plenty of dining time!

Life, Death and The Wild West

It lives, Igor!

So, contrary to public rumour I haven't won the euromillions and swanned off to sunnier climes, much as I wish it were true. I have been swanning. Sort of. In the way that they look serene above the water and are going hell for leather beneath.

As we all know, I am doing the two jobs which are both going apace and would keep me busy at the best of times. However, for the last few months, and culminating in the second week of March, I was directing and performing in, having previously written and devised, a Wild West Revue show. This had the effect of making sure I had to fit in about 20 hours of work on it a week into the two hours I seemed to have left when not working. Now it's all over I have to say it went damned well, though I say so who shouldn't, and I'll probably start on next years shortly so it isn't such a rush come next year.

So then, having got more commitments than a bishop at Easter, my father decided to pop his clogs mid-Feb. My step-sisters came flying in from The States, which was nice cos I haven't seen them for ages, if not aeons, but meant, with a three week window, we had to get him cremated, sort out the house and then scatter his ashes. So in 20 days I had two trips to Norfolk and one to Yorkshire. Which took up three weekends and quite a few midweek days, just in front of the show.

At the end of all that I was suffering from a medical condition known as "knackered". However, I'm now back to just doing the two jobs and seem to have all the time in the world. Don't know why I wasn't coping with it before!

Missing In Action

Hello.

I've been missing but for a reason, not just cos I was being lazy. More when I get the chance.

But in the meantime, look at this property and the price. There isn't a 3 bed house anywhere near here that doesn't cover the cost of buying this place in the South of France. It's in a damn good location as well.

Click Here

Abandoned

The Magnificent M has gone on a school trip leaving me to fend for myself. I am doing well, I have not starved, set the flat on fire, run amok with the hoover or had any other mishap. The only thing I have to remember is to make sure the flat is tidy when she gets back.

But I don't half miss her. It's rare for me to be here on my own and there is some enjoyment in being able to do whatever I want when I want (Who was that sniggering at the back?!) but the place seems very empty.

I think I've got the better half of the deal though. M is trying to keep twenty seven 10 year olds entertained. Not on her own obviously but it won't exactly be a relaxing break.

She's back Friday, I don't know who'll be more relieved. Her to be rid of the kids, or me to get her back.