How very French...

  Kim wanted me to add an extra shelf to one of my home-made book shelves as her last visit to the second-hand book sale had over-stocked the storage. I didn`t have a long enough plank, so we called in at a local building materials depot, which is perhaps more used to providing larger quantities.  I had the measurements of my plank, 15cm by 2cm by a metre. You don`t go to the counter in this establishment, you seek out the wood-man in the warehouse  Did he have such a plank, I asked. Eurr, oui He walked to where a few odd lengths of wood were lying on a pallet and selected a length.  A metre long? He led the way to a huge circular saw and cut off a metre. 15cm wide? Another saw cut a strip off the side of the plank. It`s a bit thick, I thought but it would do. But no.. 2cm thick?  A third saw cut the plank down to the correct thickness.... You can pass to the caisse now, monsieur I will phone my colleague.
  The office is on the other side of the main road, really nothing to stop you driving away but I suppose nobody does. The chap behind the desk looked a bit puzzled and said he could not localise the plank in his computer, no surprise there!  Tell you what, monsieur, just pay what you think, no bill. I found a fiver in my wallet. Parfait, magnifique, au revoir, bonne journée.  France is different, isn`t it?

  Bye for now, time for bed. Night night

Death of a window cleaner

   Visiting the UK recently to see Kim and Alyson, while Kim was looking after her, I was struck by the visit of the window-cleaner with his ladder and bucket, a normal sight in Britain but completely unknown in France. When I was a youngster, the approved method of finding a little employment was to buy a ladder, a bucket and a shammy leather and set up a round of windows to clean and it is obvious this useful trade still thrives, though the price has grown since it cost five bob.
  However, the trade has never established itself in France for two very basic reasons. The first is that the country French would sooner be seen stark naked in the high street than spend good money on someone else doing what they could do for themselves free. The second reason is simple---shutters.
  Now as you can see from my header pic, all French houses have shutters fitted to their windows. A friend who visited England for the first time was flabbergasted to see that the English almost exclusively don`t have them. But how do you keep the burglars out, she asked.  How indeed.... But the fact remains that they are universal in France and as rare as hen`s teeth in the UK.
  How does this affect window cleaners, I hear you ask, after all you can open the shutters. Well, it`s like this. If you have shutters, the window MUST open inwards, otherwise you can`t lock the shutters. Therefor, all windows in France open inwards, while all in England open outwards. If your windows open outwards you can`t clean them from the inside, so any window above ground level will need a ladder. As most people are a little unsteady on ladders, the job has to be sub-contracted. In France, it`s easy-peasey, you wipe the inside, open the window and can then wipe the outside, even on first floor or higher. Think of the money you`re saving! That`s the reason that the trade of window cleaner is denied to budding French entrepreneurs!

  Bye for now going to look out of the window....
 

The Transmogrification of Mrs Noah.

   As some of you may know, Kim decided some time ago to go the whole hog in our adopted country and take out French nationality. It`s not a decision to be taken lightly but Kim felt that it was fitting for her.  She is always a person who throws herself into things. For my part, I did not feel I could take this step, not from any imperialistic pride in British nationality but because I did not feel it could be done. Being born English, a process of law could not, in my estimation, alter my essential orientation. However, I was quite prepared to support Kim`s desire to become French, and she started the process three years ago, receiving a letter from the Prefecture at the end of  August last year to confirm her change of nationality. She now has  Livret de Famille and French I.D. too!
  Let nobody tell you it`s easy!  French bureaucracy is one of the slowest in the world, and the documents and certificates required were formidable, all had to be translated into French at several Euros a page by an official translator. I suppose that the problems and delay do have the effect of discouraging any frivolous applicant, I admit I would have been tempted to tell them I had changed my mind if I had thought to join her, or even employing some stronger terms!
  However, the thing was done and dusted and she became officially French at the end of August last year. However, like the opening of a new motorway, even if it`s been open for traffic for a couple of months, there has to be a proper opening ceremony and Kim`s took place today. She was invited to come to the Prefecture at Niort to receive her official papers from the Préfêt himself, so we set out this afternoon all dressed up to attend the ceremony.
   We had a bit of a problem finding the Prefecture, although we had an address. Our Satnav is rather old and Niort has been recently refurbished in the city centre, which confused the machine. Eventually, we abandoned the car in an underground car
park and set out on foot, which would have been better if Kim`s posh shoes had been more comfortable. Still, we tracked it down in the end and entered the impressive building, being told to wait with the other new French in a tall corridor. Kim and the other candidates were called forward into another room and informed of their new rights, privileges and responsibilities. Eventually the supporters were called in as well, and the Préfêt, impressively dressed in a black suit with gold foliage on the sleeves and collar, individually handed each new compatriot their file of papers and certificates, with a few words to each. Then, he donned his round hat, also decorated with gold foliage, put on white gloves and saluted while the Marseillaise was played Then, the real business done, we were invited to step outside for a group photo and then for a few nibbles, with a non-alcoholic drink. I couldn`t help thinking we do the food and drink better in Loubillé! The ceremony itself, however,  was surprisingly effective and

Kim admits it made her feel more accepted as French afterwards.







  Bye for now, going to kiss my new French wife!

I am Sailing...

On Friday 14th of March I was stepping onto the deck of the good ship Armorique ready to sail to Plymouth from Roscoff in Finisterre. But there were considerable stages to accomplish before this agreeable situation.
   As regular readers of the Ark must know, Kim ( Mrs Noah ) is currently located in Plymouth looking after our daughter Alyson, who had suffered an aneurism. We had decided that it would be pleasant for us both, for me to have a brief stay in Plymouth to keep her company and see how Al is recovering. Now it`s not easy to arrange to leave the Ark`s other passengers, even though Ian, our so patient neighbour agrees to feed the stay-on-board contingent. Storm, the grey kitten, is too young to leave, so is lodged at another kind friend`s house to be made a fuss of by Agnès and her daughter Eléa. Toffee usually stays with Jacqui and Adrian in Loubillé but they had to go to a funeral in the UK, so Toffee made his first trans-Manche trip, with Jilly and Laika.

  Normally, I leave home early enough to catch a 3pm sailing but Britanny Ferries had amended the sialing to 1pm, just too early to be feasible. We decided I should leave the day before and stay at the Formule 1 at St Brieuc.. As I made good time and checked in early after a five hour drive, , I decided to explore, and chose the Port of Le Légué, associated with St Brieuc. This proved to be further down a deep gorge that we traverse on our route north. The valley leads down towards the sea, which, however is out of sight. However, the little port has both commercial and pleasure boating facilities and a charming little town, too.
  After a brief stroll along the dockside I returned to the Formule 1 for an early night.
  Next morning, after eating as much as I could ingest of the unlimited breakfast, I headed off again for the two hour drive to Roscoff and the ferry port of Le Bloscon. I had arrived nice and early and found the terminal almost deserted, so took the opportunity of booking in the dogs in peace. They have to be taken into the terminal and scanned for their micro-chips, not easy with three dogs. I split them into two lots,  Jilly and Toffee first, then Laika, the more flighty, afterwards. No problems, I heaved a sigh of relief, and left the Brittany Ferries desk with my ticket duly authorised.
After a brief stroll with the dogs, I joined the queue of vehicles waiting to board and was checked in by the staff and customs and passed on to another queue. Brittany Ferries would never survive at Calais with a sailing every hour! Finally at last I could move off and dive down into the cavernous stern doors of the Armorique!
  The car is marshalled into a tight position with the other vehicle on the car deck, and I can then take my travel bag, give the dogs a biscuit and leave them to bark at the other motorists while we are whisked across the hundred miles or so of sea between Finisterre and Plymouth. Travel is so relaxing!
  Having left France in sunshine as you can see from my photos, it was lashing down in Plymouth, what a climate! Never mind I was able to spend a happy week with Kim and Alyson.

  Bye for now, going to continue to acclimatise to being back home again.

Beware the Perils of the International Internet!

Before you all send messages of sympathy, let me state that this photo is not of current conditions here but refers to a year ago. And just as displacement in time can mislead, so can spacial displacement. Let me explain what I mean.
   We have friends in several parts of the Globe, France of course, but also America and even Australia. Now if you rely on a report of Australian weather conditions, you could well be misled. People posting are equally close in appearance wherever they are located. As long as you know where your friends are based, this should not be a problem.
  However, such problems did arrive yesterday. Kim (Mrs Noah) reported from the UK, where she is looking after our daughter Alyson after an op,  that one of her friends posting from our local village had reported that she had had to delay her shopping trip because of a thick layer of snow on the ground. Kim was worried as to how I was getting on. I was rather surprised, because the village is only three kilometers away and I have no snow, or even frost in La Mort Limouzin. I had even driven through Loubillé earlier that morning. I thought perhaps this was an extremely local phenomenon and even jokingly  wondered whether someone was plucking a goose upwind....
   The apparent mystery was solved this morning. Kim said she had since discovered that our friend, though normally based in Loubillé, was staying in the UK, where her weather conditions were much different than if she had been at home! She had sent her message on a mobile or portable, of course.
  Good thing I wasn`t huddled by the fire, waiting for the snow to cover me too!

  Amusing, though!!

 Bye for now, just going to check the grass for snowfall!

Where, what snow??

The Fagin of the dog world

  Yes, here is her mug-shot,,,, now don`t let that innocent `stolen butter wouldn`t melt in my mouth` look fool you, this animal is a confirmed and relentless thief!
   I really thought that Jilly was the limit when it came to snapping up of unconsidered trifles. Jacqui would confirm that she has an (un)healthy appetite. She stole a whole plate of newly baked buns left out to cool, one time when Jax was kind enough to look after her. But Laika really takes the cake--or rather she would if you left it at a hight of less than ten feet from the ground. She is so agile with it , can leap onto the table or work surface in search of nourishment with absolute ease. What`s more she`s shameless and will do so while you`re in the room, I have never known a dog like it. Even Jilly has the tact or instinct of self preservation to wait til you`re out of sight.
  Why don`t you punish her, you ask? Well, of course we do, but five minutes later she will do the same again. And there`s a further complication about that--We think that in her past she has been severely hammered (mind you the previous owner could plead provocation!) If she thinks you are really going to hit her, she defends herself by bared teeth and a ferocious growl. She has never tried to bite, but I feel it is a possibility. She will accept a quick slap or tap but it doesn`t do to persist. She doesn`t like it if you show you`re cross with her and will look so miserable and penitent (ha! ) that she soon gets forgiven. She is a very affectionate dog, ideal in most other ways.
   What provoked this tirade? Well Kim bought a new waste bin with a hinged lid and a foot pedal, which she fondly hoped would be Laika-proof. No, she shoved her nose under the flap and took out the contents to scatter it over the kitchen.  Keep her out you say. Not very convenient and five minutes unsupervised is enough. Then she found it easier to turn the bin over. I attached it to the wall. We put a heavy log on top, bit unsightly but seemed to work--as long as you didn`t forget the log, no, not even for five minutes. I made a wooden latch operated by an aerolastic which worked for a day. Then she found the knack of working the elastic down the bin so the latch fell open. I wired the elastic to the latch. This worked for two weeks. But just as I was congratulating myself on being cleverer than a dog, she attacked the latch and tore it bodily apart! I have reverted to the log but how long til she starts to pull it off?  The saga continues....

Bye for now going to see what Laika is doing....

Wet or dry?

Today has been an odd sort of day. It`s supposed to be early March, still more or less winter, with a good fire making the wood-burner emit a cheery glow to keep the cold and damp at bay. But what do we have?  A warm, sunny day worthy of early summer, washing drying outside, doors open and the wood-burner neglected and threatening to go out.  I was seriously thinking of letting it do so, until it suddenly started to rain at six o`clock,and until I saw, on the local Météo that today`s temperatures of 16 or 17 degrees are expected to fall to 5 degrees on Monday. Crazy weather!
  Which do you prefer, wet or dry? Both have their points. If it`s wet, you have a good excuse to stay in and read a book. The grass and the garden will benefit, no struggle to carry heavy bidons of water to wilting plants. And a nice green lawn is surely preferable to the baked-brown look of my second pic. But wait, what about the gluey mud in the sheep-field that threatens to suck off your wellies, and the muddy footprints left by the cats on every surface... And it`s far more pleasant to walk the dogs in warm sunshine and go out into the cour without a forced change of footwear  No contest, really, the gardeners and farmers will have to put up with it, give me dry any time

  Bye for now, going to see if the dogs night-time walk is wet or dry.