2 November 2014

Gaillac is normally a quiet, peaceful place. Not last week in the Place de la Liberation. Remi Fraisse from the Save the Testet Wetland project was killed during clashes between police and protesters over a controversial dam project at Sivens. A hundred 'anarchists' wearing hoods threw incendiary devices at the security forces at around 2 a.m. The police, in retaliation, used tear gas, stun grenades and flash balls. But when I asked some locals why they didn't like the dam project, they told me it would mean all their taxes would rise. Sounds more likely to me. But everyone is convinced young Remi was killed by the police.  We saw walls everywhere daubed with graffiti proclaiming 'Police - Assassins', which needs no translating. Albi was the same, and when on Tuesday we took the family for a veggie lunch at the LeClerc cafe in Gaillac, police were everywhere. Hundreds of them. After us?  No. They'd simply come for lunch, occupying every table. Most intimidating. Let's hope no crime was committed that lunchtime, as every single police officer in town was in that cafe, eating!

8th July 2012

Sometimes bizarre things happen. Saturday Toulouse was really jumpin'.  Like most of France, shops were busy with their annual sales - held nationally from 27 June 'til the end of July. Buoyed up, after saving 23 euros, we headed for the metro at Capitole. Now a dab hand at the ticket machine manoevres, we waltzed through the turnstiles and marvelled again at the wonderful synchronised doors that save so many lives at the platform.  We whizzed through the now familiar stations to the terminus at Balma Gramont. Walking towards the escalators Him indoors searched for our metro tickets. Oh, I blithely told him, we don't need those any more as all outgoing turnstiles open without them. So, he threw them in a waste bin. And there, at the top of the escalator, right in front of the turnstiles was a line of policemen!  Identity cards and tickets please, they shouted.  I went cold. This had never happened before. One approached us. Er, we don't have an identity card as we're not French. And, er, we don't have a metro ticket as we threw them away. He looked sceptical.  Bizarrely, he asked us where exactly. What?  Oh, in the waste bin down there. I pointed vaguely. So, the policeman led Him indoors away to rummage in a wastebin like a vagrant. Thankfully he found both tickets, and after checking my credentials the policeman allowed us to leave. Phew. That was a close call, said Him indoors. P'raps I shouldn't have asked if I could help him with his enquiries?

20 December 2008

First, well done to those who spotted my deliberate mistake a few days ago in giving the UK Prime Minister a new first name! There was a past MP called George Brown who, as I recall, was slow, large and ponderous and believed he was the answer to everyone's prayers......not much difference there then.
Here in France, the usual troubles that beset governments everywhere drone on. However, a new salacious slant is that the person doing the complaining is the President himself. As we all know, our Nicolas led a very colourful private life before he took office - and afterwards too. Well, it seems that a former domestic intelligence chief, a Monsieur Bertrand, actually kept secret files on Nicolas's personal and sexual life!
So, of course Sarkozy has launched a probe into the former head of the General Intelligence agency -- France's former political police. We all know that the French are, allegedly, in a permanent state of unbridled eroticism, but it appears they don't wish their own personal exploits broadcast in one man's files! So the prospect of a formal investigation has sent shudders through the Parisian elite, as cabinet ministers, parliamentarians, business leaders and celebrities are among those named in the notebooks. Between 1998 and 2003, Bertrand filled 23 spiral-bound pads with cryptic handwritten notes recounting tales of sexual and financial indiscretions, feuds, and insults and alleged crimes among his high-level targets.
Now, French people are never happier than when they are complaining about something, and (as we've seen with the recent teachers' protests) manifestations are commonplace. What makes this latest scenario so interesting is that it merges their love of protest with their alleged reputation for licentiousness, but also with their renowned insularity - worse than the Japanese. Also, of those they hate, the French reserve their greatest enmity for their fellow countrymen, but especially those who live in Paris! Never the 'twain shall meet?
On verra - we shall see. Makes for some festive entertainment anyway.