Telephone Advertising--It's driving me nuts.

Is it just me?  You know the scenario, the phone rings, you run to answer but either there's a silence, or an enthusiastic voice introduces itself as Collette, speaking for the firm of..... With a special offer of something which you have no interest in buying. It's starting to make my phone practically useless as a quick response medium. My neighbour, Ian, tells me he doesn't answer the phone when it rings, lets it go to answerphone to filter the calls. What the Hell, I didn't install a phone as a sort of bulletin board for advertisers. It really annoys me.
   I take what counter measures I can. I tell all advertisers that I NEVER buy anything advertised by phone. I have told callers that my phone is prohibited for publicity, but firms are impervious to insults and regard all phones as a cheap route for advertising their products.
  Right, what can we do? I have been considering how we can make a difference. What about using the power of the Net?
   If we responded to the call sufficiently to identify the firm, or to obtain their phone number, we could publish it on the Net and ask everyone to ring the number and put the phone down,it would cost nothing and would swamp the firm's switchboard, play them at their own game. Is anyone interested n setting up a site?

  Bye for now, breakfast calls.

Sink Problems

You know how it is. Yesterday I had planned all sorts of tasks to do, but when I reentered the kitchen the kitten had upended a plant pot from the shelf above the sink and the mangled seedling and the potful of compost were dumped in the sink. Now our kitchen sink, as you can see above, isn't the most modern of equipment, yet it is an improvement on what was there beforehand. This would have been a stone basin installed in a recess, with a round porthole window above. The earlier sink's waste pipe debauched through a short pipe into the gutter, allowing the water to run away down the road as was the norm in rural France. The 'new' sink was simply installed on top of the stone one, and its waste  discharged into it. All this I have more fully realised as a result of this little accident. I cleared up the majority of the soil, but didn't worry about flushing the rest down the plug hole as this compost wouldn't be objectionable. We normally wash up in a bowl and carry any dirty water through to the bathroom, adding it to our septic tank by flushing it down the loo.
  However, my action did have a consequence on this occasion, as it blocked the sink. The stone sink underneath overflowed, and water poured out of the cupboard under the sink.
  Unfortunately, my usual standby of a sink plunger didn't work, as there was no connection between the two waste pipes. The wire from a coat hanger, my second standby also failed, the more so as the top sink's waste turned out not to be opposite the hole underneath....it was time to call in a snake.
   A snake is what plumbers call the long length of coiled spring you feed down the plug hole to clear it when the caustic soda fails. Unfortunately, I didn't have one but Weldom supplied this very posh version at 22Euros. Scarcely had I fed the end of this up from the bottom of the waste pipe when a gush of muddy water showed the money had been well spent. All's well that ends well and I shall surely find the tool useful in future blockages.

  Bye for now, pet feeding time!

Roscoff, gateway to Plymouth.

   On Saturday, as Kim was en route to spend a few weeks with our daughter Alyson, we drove the 560 kilometres to Morlaix, where we had booked in to spend the night in the B and B hotel. Normally, we break our journey at the Formula 1 at St Brieuc, an hours run South of the ferry terminal at Roscoff. However, after my previous traumatic experiences with the infamous Bonnets Rouges, who blocked the road and prevented me from catching the ferry, we had decided to install ourselves at a nearer spot, which would be nearly impossible to barricade.

    We spent the night fairly comfortably at the B and B, which does have the advantage of en suite bathroom, rather than than in the corridor  like the Formula 1. After a lavish and very copious breakfast (I try to eat at least the cover charge for the unlimited breakfast) we drove on the few k's to Roscoff.
 Roscoff is an amazing town; people who arrive at the ferry port , which is located a kilometre away from the little town and port, and just drive off towards their southern destinations miss a real treat. The town is a little gem, granite houses, some with amazing carvings, narrow cobbled streets and a thriving fishing and leisure harbour with a huge tidal range so it changes from lapping water to an expanse of weed and sand in a few hours. It is a prosperous little burg, too, mainly based on servicing the trade brought to it by Brittany Ferries, so it supports loads of restaurants and little shops. The country round about is charming also, little ports and inlets many with sandy beaches and several offshore islands. I always enjoy a visit even if it is to put Kim on the ferry. I shall be back to fetch her, and to make a short crossing to Plymouth myself in a few weeks!

Note the onions for which Roscoff is famed!

A strange year for weather.

   This is a pic of our courtyard taken a few years ago, and is the normal aspect of the grass on this very thin-soiled former farmyard. Indeed, our daughter Alyson, who normally visits in the summer was AMAZED to see it green when she came in the spring. Although looking as dead as a dodo, it revives almost instantly when the autumn rains resume.
   Not this year, however. It has remained green and verdant all the summer, due to increased rainfall in what is normally high summer, though I must say the weather

is redeeming itself now with a lovely dry, sunny autumn. It does look far prettier, I must admit, but it has needed cutting throughout the summer, normally that chore ceases in May. On the up side, the garden has not needed any watering. Hey ho what you lose on the roundabouts.....

  Bye for now, off to strim the orchard!