Be very very afraid.....
Too much state control here in France. First they introduced automatic organ donation. Unless you go to a lot of trouble in finding and signing the right form, your organs can be taken on death without permission. Now a 2nd violation: in February, without fanfare, France introduced a new law whereby terminally-ill patients can be sedated, water and food withdrawn, until they die. Imagine how I felt reading this, when my own dear brother suffered from exactly this in a UK hospice under the now discredited Liverpool Pathway scheme. Legalised euthanasia by another name! I know there will be some reading this who say 'it's for the best; he's dying anyway.' No: it gives far too much power to doctors, who can now make their own, God-like, decisions on whether you live or die. Remember: there is no pain that can't be assuaged today by strong drugs. Don't let the State overrule our hard won independence, the human right to make our own decisions.
....life is precious. As long as we live, there is always hope. Don't take that away.
Sunday 21 August 2016
For 2 weeks in Rio the Olympic flame has shone brightly. Superb athletes from most nations have shaken hands in friendship and goodwill...
But in Europe it's chilled, despite the summer heat. No handshakes in the banlieues of Paris, where over the last 3 months, 13000 newly-arrived immigrants speaking Arabic, Pashto and Farsi were quickly handcuffed and served deportation orders. NE in Calais it's worse, the Jungle now completely out-of-control. SW, on the outskirts of Marseilles, wild fires rage. And, France's Hollande - in his government-funded Lanterne holiday residence, several kilometres from the gleaming Elysée Palace - is also in a rage. Terrible terrorist atrocities have necessitated the deployment of armed guards everywhere. Alarmed, many Communes have cancelled the very summer attractions that boost his ailing country's vital tourist income. And, following Brexit, the 2017 French elections loom, with the scheming Mme Le Pen poised to strike, along with most of the French workforce it seems!
...... but the lights in Paris are flickering alarmingly.
But in Europe it's chilled, despite the summer heat. No handshakes in the banlieues of Paris, where over the last 3 months, 13000 newly-arrived immigrants speaking Arabic, Pashto and Farsi were quickly handcuffed and served deportation orders. NE in Calais it's worse, the Jungle now completely out-of-control. SW, on the outskirts of Marseilles, wild fires rage. And, France's Hollande - in his government-funded Lanterne holiday residence, several kilometres from the gleaming Elysée Palace - is also in a rage. Terrible terrorist atrocities have necessitated the deployment of armed guards everywhere. Alarmed, many Communes have cancelled the very summer attractions that boost his ailing country's vital tourist income. And, following Brexit, the 2017 French elections loom, with the scheming Mme Le Pen poised to strike, along with most of the French workforce it seems!
...... but the lights in Paris are flickering alarmingly.
14th August 2016
House sale blues! The French property market in this region is impossible - no buyers anywhere! I know what you're thinking. It's no good saying 'houses aren't selling in our price range'. Just lower the price. But, what to do if you've already lowered the price drastically and still nothing? So, we currently have no less than 5 local agents, English sites plus a private ad on Leboncoin (a sort of French ebay: https://www.leboncoin.fr/ventes_immobilieres/1004554664.htm) but with them unless your price is 100K euros or less, there's not much interest. French estate agents aren't worth the huge commission they get: c.6% of the asking price - way more than the English ones receive! Him indoors says the word immobilier is onomatopoeic : immobile! It's certainly helpful when they vet prospective buyers and come to the notaire (solicitor) with both buyer and seller, but my cynical mind says that's to ensure we actually all sign on the dotted line! But at least sellers in France don't pay anything to either the agent or the notaire. Meantime I'm busy keeping chez-nous up to scratch: tidy, clean and 'well-staged' with flowers, table-setting etc......just in case.
Wednesday 10th August 2016
Here is the last so far in my series of three books for those aged 9 - 13. And there's a prize! Read Ruby, Clementine or Saffron (link below) and the first to leave a review on Amazon will receive an Amazon voucher!
Saffron has already had to suffer racial taunts due to her mixed-race origins. Her mission involves the Taj Mahal, where she learns via her late grandmother’s letter that she must find the hidden love token buried many years ago. Her travels to India prove a revelation. In searching and finding the missing artefact, she meets young Abu, who touches her heart. Slowly she learns something about herself and the inescapable facts of her personal Indian roots.
Saffron has already had to suffer racial taunts due to her mixed-race origins. Her mission involves the Taj Mahal, where she learns via her late grandmother’s letter that she must find the hidden love token buried many years ago. Her travels to India prove a revelation. In searching and finding the missing artefact, she meets young Abu, who touches her heart. Slowly she learns something about herself and the inescapable facts of her personal Indian roots.
Don’t miss the
characters who appear throughout the series:
the inscrutable Verdigris, the evil Miss Pinchtuck and an ancient
professor who plots to solve the world’s global warming problems. Can each of
the seven Rainbow girls complete Verdigris’ mission and prove that the professor
was right all along? Only time will
tell.
Below is an exclusive extract from Saffron, just for you:
India
Invisible engines
thrummed. An uncanny wind whistled past
Saffron’s eardrums, the insistent beat echoing her thudding heart.
Don’t look down,
for pity’s sake don’t look down.
From time to time
the bustling noises of the Agra chawls came wafting up to her: the shouts from
colourful vendors, blind and maimed beggars intermingling with the honking
rickshaw drivers. All competed for her attention. But still she could not, would not look down
as she clung ever tightly to the boy in the white turban. He was sitting
cross-legged on the ancient, now threadbare piece of carpet, but Saffron could
only perch on her knees as with every passing cloud the itchy fabric knitted
and patched itself into a ruby, woven scab.
‘Remember what I
told you,’ the boy shouted to her. ‘Keep
away from the chawls. They’re full of cockroaches, centipedes and earthworms.
Above all, don’t drink the water. It’s poisoned by human and animal excrement.’
Saffron shuddered. She just couldn’t imagine what life must be
like for all those poor people she could see crammed into their personal kholi
flats within their chawl.
How ever had she
got here? What would her parents say if
only they knew? But her parents would still be sleeping, sublimely unaware that
she was already nearing her destination. Verdigris had known all along that her
special mission involved the Taj Mahal, but for Saffron all she wanted was to
fulfil her grandmother’s dying wish. ‘...Find my very own love token, my dear.
I’m the only one who knows where it’s hidden, but I’m now too old. It’s you Saffron, yes only you, who must find
it. Then at last I can die in peace.
Goodnight for now, my darling girl.’
Now, years later,
Saffron could only stare straight ahead, even if it was directly into the boy’s
cambric shirt. If she moved her head
slightly, or even pinched her eyes tight shut, a terrible nausea would
prevail. She remembered the mantra her
Mum always told her at the dentist’s: ‘this won’t last long; this won’t last
long’. Soon, her agile brain had
incorporated this with every zoom and lurch of the carpet beneath her knees,
until suddenly, at last, the speed and motion changed.
The boy shouted
out to her ‘Hold on tight. We’re going down.’
----
Don't forget, there's a prize. After reading one of the 3, click again on the buy link below and go to Leave a Review. GOOD LUCK!
Below is that all-important link on how to buy:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B013IDLQ4O
7th August 2016
August already and it's not been a good year for British expats in France. Terror attacks and anti-Semitism increasing exponentially and a growing realisation that France's security is not all it should be. Talk of a cover-up in Nice to hide their shame: CCTV camera footage of the recent attack has been destroyed! My solution? Call in the Israelis. They know a thing or two about national security. They have to in order to survive. And Brexit worries continue as we wait for the start button to be pressed in January. As well as the 2 main options (return to the UK or take up French citizenship), for those having difficulty in selling their home in a dormant market, they might consider applying for a carte de sejour, giving them a measure of residence security in the meantime. Trouble is there's the dreaded French bureaucracy to deal with, e.g. they ask for your original birth certificate but it must be issued during the last 3 months!! So, the original certificate I've held for 60+ years is somehow not authentic enough? Words fail me.
Wednesday 3rd August 2016
It's my Wednesday international blog. As promised, here's another excerpt from my alter ego, Gillian Green's, series for those aged 9 - 13. This is book 2 in the Rainbow series: 'Clementine'. Musical Tina finds herself going back in time in search of a missing violin. She meets a wonderful boy called Antonio Stradivar but discovers she's now living in the 17th Century. How ever will she get back to normal time again?
So, here's a short extract. Tina is in Rome on a school trip. Her teacher, the mysterious Mr. Verdigris, asks her to do a strange thing, about which she must tell no-one. She must find a missing Stradivarius violin. She has no idea how she will accomplish this but soon, as she's visiting the Colosseum, she's swept up, up and away....
So, here's a short extract. Tina is in Rome on a school trip. Her teacher, the mysterious Mr. Verdigris, asks her to do a strange thing, about which she must tell no-one. She must find a missing Stradivarius violin. She has no idea how she will accomplish this but soon, as she's visiting the Colosseum, she's swept up, up and away....
".....Suddenly, a
movement in the corner of Tina’s eyes caught her attention. She turned and saw one of their helpers
beckoning to her.
Oh no!
It was that weird
one with the black headscarf.
What on earth does she want?
She indicated to
Beth that she would only be a moment.
Little did she know! No sooner
had she reached the old woman than she realised at last why she looked so
familiar.
‘Oh, you look just
like Miss Pinchtuck – from my dance class,’ she said in confusion. ‘But, what are you doing with our group from
school?’
Tina was really
really surprised. It was not often that
someone from one part of her life collided into another. Really, her Saturday dance classes at the
Rainbow School of Dance had nothing whatsoever to do with Kingsbridge School,
so she was amazed that the old woman was here as a helper. But right here, at the Colosseum in Rome
Miss Pinchtuck
cackled and rubbed her hands together with glee. ‘I wondered how long it would take you,
child, to recognise me. But at least, as
an over-65, I got in for free!’ She
paused awhile and looked ahead of her whilst nodding slowly to herself. Yes, that just might do it! But first she needed to entice the child
towards and through those two central gothic pillars over there, the ones with
the flaking masonry hanging in shreds right down to the ground. Yes,
those are the ones, she smiled to herself.
The ones with that arch above them
– the arch with the seven grooves in it……But how to lure the child over
there?
Miss Pinchtuck
strained her painful neck muscles backwards so that she could look straight up
into the clear blue sky, a sky so translucent that it was a perfect dome for
the Colosseum beneath. Why, it was
almost as if they were all spectators in what was to be the greatest show on
earth. She brought her head straight
again and looked at the arch directly in front of her. A voice came into her addled brains. Keep it simple, Mildred…(for that was her
name, a name that no-one ever used any more because it sounded like
mildew)….keep it simple.
‘Child,’ she said,
turning again to Tina, who was shuffling from one foot to the other anxious to
get back to Beth again. Tina was
frightened she would lose sight of the rest of the group and become hopelessly
lost in the milling crowds all around. ‘You couldn’t do me a favour, could
you?’ said the old woman, smiling in the best way she could, despite her
yellowing, decayed teeth.
Tina nodded, but
saying ‘Yes, but can you make it quick. I’m sure I’ll lose sight of my friends
if I don’t hurry up.’
‘Yes, yes,
dear. It won’t take a moment…a mere
second in life’s precious passage of time.’
‘What?’ What on
earth was the old woman going on about now? thought Tina, growing
increasingly irritated.
‘You see those
pillars over there – the ones with the arch above linking them both
together? Miss Pinchtuck pointed to the
exact place she wanted the child to be.
Tina nodded.
‘I simply need you
to fetch my handkerchief which I’m sure I dropped just the other side. You can’t fail to recognise it – it’s got
rainbow bands all around the edges.’
Tina thought oh, anything to get rid of her, so
quickly agreed. ‘Just between those
arches, you say?’ as she ran off in the direction the old woman had said.
Shouldn’t take
long.
As the child sped
off, Miss Pinchtuck stuck her bony hand inside her bodice and extracted a
rainbow-shaped charm hanging on a gilt chain around her wrinkled neck. She raised her other hand in an arch above
her short-sighted, hooded eyes, the better to see exactly when the child was in
the correct position.
She peered through
the sparkling sunlight until her eyes suddenly focused.
‘Yes, yes, you old
fool. Now. Now.!’
With that, she rubbed the rainbow charm in an anti-clockwise direction,
mumbling an ancient spell she had concocted specially for this moment.
Nimble, nimble, child be quick
Don’t be slow, for here’s the trick
By all that’s holy, all sublime
By magic’s grace, GO BACK IN TIME!
Tina found the
pillars, the ones underneath the archway, but as she ran through them searching
for that elusive handkerchief, something very strange happened. She found herself growing dizzy, all of a
sudden. She put her clammy hand up to
her head in an effort to still the throbbing vein in her temples, but it made
no difference. She suddenly felt worse,
much worse. The whole world had started
to spin in an anti-clockwise direction, herself in the centre. She felt as though she was in the middle of a
giant tornado, in the very eye of the needle, twirling, twirling, round and
round. Everything went first grey, then black, as she was flung helplessly
along.
Every so often,
the twisting fabric of her life would pick up elements of years gone by. Images of people, their thoughts, collided in
a quickening and roaring pace, each phase superseded by another, then
another.
Hours passed, days
disappeared, followed by years, then centuries, as the loose sheets of the
world’s calendar were torn off one by one.
And still she spun in that vortex, like a helpless spider being sucked
ever downwards into the giant plughole of time.
In a fleeting
moment of consciousness she kept repeating to herself, over and over, in a
never-ending mantra:
Where am I?
What am I?
Where am I going?
Why?
Soon, very soon,
she would find out.
It would be like
nothing she had ever experienced before....."
Here's the link for all 3 in this series: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B013IDLQ4O
Do hope a youngster in your family enjoys them.
Don't miss, next Wednesday, an extract from the 3rd book: Saffron, who's a child of mixed race who visits the Taj Mahal in India in search of her late grandmother's love token. Don't miss it!
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