Comment ca va?
Impec-ca-b-le and glad to hear it.
A quick thank you to my new follower, Cristian Mihai and for the L(y)ikes I received from people I don’t even know. I will never cease to be amazed that anyone (who isn’t a friend or family or whom I have no power of blackmailing) will even bother to read the rubbish I publish on this site. I am, however, grateful. Fame at last…..
Ok, so making news in France this week:
-Floods, floods, floods together with aerial footage of the same blardey wave-battered phare (or lighthouse to vous et moi) that the news programmes have been showing for WEEKS (and that’s ALL the news programmes). I guess they have the budget for a collective chopper but not enough euros for one each. They also seem to be scrabbling and scratching around for news stories as they dedicate around 25 mins to weather news.
-the return of Sarkowzy. Now, timing is everything and mon Dieu, would you believe that his return to the flashbulb focus of the political press just so happened to fall on the same day that Flanby (or President Hollande) arrived in the U. S. of A. ?
-Taxis of France (that’s not their official collective name but it will do) want to have a law passed which means that private taxis or chauffeur taxis as they are known can only collect their Fare (if ordered online or by telephone and Fare representing the actual person or thing being carried) not before 15 minutes after the booking. Yep – because it’s not fare…..I mean, fair to the taxis which are available to be hailed on the street. Very equality. Very liberty. And extremely fraternity.
-oh and finally, I think I heard something about a law being passed which makes it easier for shops to make their staff work on Sundays. Now, this is progress. Down here in Nowhere, some shops (and not just little ones) still close for 2 hours at lunchtime. So if you are in one of these shops and about to spend 2 gazillion euros on something as the clock strikes 11.59, you will be asked to leave. I kid you not. Welcome to the France of the
17th.. 21st century.
– actually, finally again – neknomiate has yet to reach France. If it does, I can imagine that it won’t take on. I really can’t see any respectable French youth downing a pint or a litre of wine mixed together with some blood of a virgin..oxo cube..raw egg…snot of a toddler (I can help supply this). Unless……unless the wine is say, English or Californian. The blood of a virgin would also have to be non French. From what I hear, there aren’t too many of those who reach their teens…
News from the family
-The Prodigal returned from England with, if not quite his tail between his legs, then definitely trailing on the floor. I don’t watch Crimewatch UK but if you do……. We had a good few days since his return – if that can be measured in the empty alcohol containers I have found in his room – only 5. Onwards and upwards.
-The Face – well he is outperforming (a brain dead piece of roadkill) at school. Last week we had marks of 9/20 and 1/10. This week he has made great effort and scored 1/20 in French:
‘Do you have any HW the Face?’
‘No, remember I have study period for 20 hours today and yesterday and the day before that….. Also, my maths/french/science/English/Geography/history teachers are all sick/’
‘Right but you have been telling me this for the entire term. Do they have a terminal illness…each? Are they also all blind so perhaps unable to see their un-brailled keyboards to put in your 18/20 marks?’
The Professor – well, this charming 7 year old continues to help me help the Lips to do his homework. Yep. And when I don’t understand something, he takes over. I don’t feel any shame…..just pure delight after years and years of battling with the Prodigal and the Face to do work, I have ONE (out of five) willing (and able) child. Yipp yippppppeeeeee. The downside? As I typed an email reply the other evening, he sidled up to me (silently…of course) and after I had pressed ‘send’ said ‘what do you mean ‘only two hours until bed’?’
‘what do you mean, what do I mean, only two hours until bed? have YOU been reading my emails?’ Bugger. I didn’t think his reading in English was very good. That showed me.
‘yeah, I sometimes read them.’
The Lips – him and Fatty could be compared to Coyote and Roadrunner…actually, that isn’t true. FAtty isn’t fast (unless I am shouting at him to ‘STOP AND COME BACK HERE NOW!’ Ok so it could be compared to Coyote and a legless (literally and not drunk), fat roadrunner or better still, two coyotes. It is in-cess-ant. The winding winding winding up up up………….
FAtty – will soon be three. I asked him what he wants for his birthday:
‘erm…an orange hoover……a motorbike…..a poo…that’s a toy poo…..some paper….some letters. Actually, I don’t want the toy poo… I’ll have a sword instead.’
The Husband is still in Paris. The Husband is having a go at being a down and out but within the walls of a nice if bare apartment in the centre. What I mean, is that the Husband looks like a squatter who has found a nice apartement…. Unwashed, unfed, unloved? There is no talk of the sex shop down the road this time. He may have thought about it but I doubt they’d let him in.
Yes, I just had to get in a quick moan about my sleep situation. Even the dog refuses to listen to me now. So, I shall pick myself up from my near delierious state and say that SLEEP IS FOR
GIMPS…..WIMPS……and the soon to be demented.
Ok, so I’ll probably post this UNEDITED AGAIN – one day (far off from now) I might stop chucking around commas and semi-colons and colons and full stops and be less flippant with my grammar……..but I’m making no promises.
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”