At last - the warm weather has arrived in our region. This last winter was much colder than usual. But the last few days have been gloriously warm and we have been sitting out on our terrace to enjoy lunch.
However, my relaxation was spoiled by two events - the dentist and the tax man - surely the two most dreaded things in anyone's life. The first was much soothed, though, by a wonderful woman dentist in nearby Cordes. Her name is Dr. Julie Bacque and she is so so gentle. Although I needed root-canal work + crown on one tooth - because my old UK filling was more than 30 years old - the only pain I felt was via my wallet! The cost was high - 400 euros - but this was tempered by a reimbursement of 230 euros by CPAM (the French health service) and 70 euros by our top-up health insurance. (I do like the top-up health insurance system because you don't ever need to claim - it's done automatically by CPAM). So, not too bad. The second - the dreaded taxman - was necessary because I had misunderstood the complicated French tax rules. (I never had to complete a tax return in the UK). I had 'foolishly' thought that because the interest paid on my one English bank account was paid 'net', I didn't need to declare it on my French return. Wrong! So, now I need to pay the UK tax for the last few years again and hope to get reimbursed sometime in the future via the double-tax treaty. Let's hope all this is in my lifetime.....life's too short.
But at least I can now relax again in this glorious sunshine - at least until the next unknown French problem hits......
Showing posts with label French dentists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French dentists. Show all posts
29th October 2008
I've always thought that men can't cope with pain as well as women. Yesterday proved that Him indoors is no exception. It was time for a trip to the dentist. Of course, knowing him as I do, I expected the usual array of jokes nonetheless. Tell them I want an appointment at tooth-hurty (2.30). No! So, we set off for the picturesque Cordes sur Ciel, a beautiful bastide village in our region, where our local dentist is situated. The terrain all around the cite is very high, stony lanes impossibly steep leading up in a circuitous route, past the inevitable ancient castle, high up into the hills. But the day wasn't the day for sight-seeing, even though Him indoors said we should look for the plaque on the wall!
There are excellent dentistes throughout France, around 330 dentists per 100,000 inhabitants, but few in rural areas offer an emergency service. We were lucky to find one who speaks English, as most don't. However, 'Aaargh!' is the same in any language. Inside, the surgery was scrupulously clean. We found the salle d'attente waiting room and Him indoors insisted on practising his French through the tinny intercom on the wall. C'est Monsieur.......... A few seconds later, after some tinny shuffling of papers, came Oui, attendre un instant.... After the inevitable half-an-hour wait, trying to understand the many French magazines chronicling the Boer War (!), H was summoned by the tinny intercom. I waited for the inevitable Aaargh sounds, but surprisingly all was quiet. Maybe Madame la dentiste wasn't looking down in the mouth. Oh no, it's now getting to me too. Soon H came out, holding his jaw. What did she say? 'She said my tooth is cracked and I've got to come back again to have it taken out.' Oh no. 'Yes. I asked her why and she said it was normal at my age. But I told her 'all the other teeth are the same age and they don't hurt!'
Some things never change.
There are excellent dentistes throughout France, around 330 dentists per 100,000 inhabitants, but few in rural areas offer an emergency service. We were lucky to find one who speaks English, as most don't. However, 'Aaargh!' is the same in any language. Inside, the surgery was scrupulously clean. We found the salle d'attente waiting room and Him indoors insisted on practising his French through the tinny intercom on the wall. C'est Monsieur.......... A few seconds later, after some tinny shuffling of papers, came Oui, attendre un instant.... After the inevitable half-an-hour wait, trying to understand the many French magazines chronicling the Boer War (!), H was summoned by the tinny intercom. I waited for the inevitable Aaargh sounds, but surprisingly all was quiet. Maybe Madame la dentiste wasn't looking down in the mouth. Oh no, it's now getting to me too. Soon H came out, holding his jaw. What did she say? 'She said my tooth is cracked and I've got to come back again to have it taken out.' Oh no. 'Yes. I asked her why and she said it was normal at my age. But I told her 'all the other teeth are the same age and they don't hurt!'
Some things never change.
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