So, Wills and Kate are soon to be married. What a quandary everyone's in. Should the people celebrate uproariously as in the past? Or should they follow William's lead: keep everything low key, don't be seen to be affluent when so many are struggling. But isn't spectacle, wealth and glamour what the royal family's all about? Isn't it diminished to the point of absurdity without it?
And what do the French think about it all? Magazines such as Paris Match have tried hard to show that the French are fascinated by the British Royals. Indeed, 3 years ago polls showed that 24% thought that having a King as head of state was a good idea. And yet, around me here in rural France I see general indifference. Perhaps there's still a deep guilt complex centuries after the atrocities of the Revolution.
I wondered even whether any of the top brass in France had been issued with a must-have invite. But then, who? Should it be the (republican) President and his glamorous wife? Or should it be the 2 main pretenders to the French 'throne', Henri d'Orleans, descendant of Louis Philippe, or Louis de Bourbon, descended from Charles X? In practice, I doubt whether any of them have been invited. By doing so, the Queen would be seen to be making diplomatic considerations.
Him indoors just shakes his head, saying it's likely to be a very sad affair - even the cake's in tiers.
10th April 2011
Some time ago, amidst the furore of the pre-General Elections in the UK, I bravely sent an email to David Cameron's office stating that if he were to change the then overly-complicated system of means-testing pensioners to allow for top-up pension credits and, instead, consolidate all the benefits into one larger pension for all, this could be cost-effective as it would cut out unnecessary admin costs. Of course, this would have benefited me and all other expat pensioners who currently cannot claim the extra top-ups. So, I was particularly pleased to read recently that there's a new Green Paper that says the UK State Pension is to rise to around 150 pounds sterling a week. Hooray! But, wait a minute, what's this: '...current pensioners will not benefit....' Typical! You work all your life, paying c.40 years of National Insurance (tax) payments, only to find the government moving the goal posts just when you get there. It's particularly galling to read that those who will, in the future, qualify for the new much higher UK pension, won't have paid nearly so much - even if they do have to wait a bit longer to get it.
As I've always said, would have been much better to have deposited all those 40 years of payments under the mattress, then I could have used them as I wanted.
Is that a government cuckoo I heard just now? Aren't they known to rob everyone else to feather their own nests?
As I've always said, would have been much better to have deposited all those 40 years of payments under the mattress, then I could have used them as I wanted.
Is that a government cuckoo I heard just now? Aren't they known to rob everyone else to feather their own nests?
3rd April 2011
It's Mothers' day - at least in the UK. In France, it'll be 29 May, and in the US - not sure. Confusing. What's a mother to do when one child's in England, the other in America? Some would say good job there's no mother-in-law day - the greetings card industry would have a field day!
And then there's the political worry about another woman here in France: Marine Le Pen, President of the NF party. She's already won a lot of regional votes. She's known for being a Euro-sceptic and hates immigrants. What if she becomes French President next year? She could throw all we expats out. Trouble is, as with all young females, she's photogenic and comes across well on TV. She's mild-mannered and apparently entirely plausible. My worry is she will entice the French with her artificially-sweet, saccharine words and then? A natural progression is to think back to Germany in 1933. The youthful Hitler snared the poverty-stricken Germans with encouraging words about food and jobs - and indeed, in power, fulfilled all these promises - but then, all that glory and popularity pushed him to reveal his true, evil hard core.
Today may be a day for women but, especially in politics, beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. Sometimes, better to stick to the devil you know.
And then there's the political worry about another woman here in France: Marine Le Pen, President of the NF party. She's already won a lot of regional votes. She's known for being a Euro-sceptic and hates immigrants. What if she becomes French President next year? She could throw all we expats out. Trouble is, as with all young females, she's photogenic and comes across well on TV. She's mild-mannered and apparently entirely plausible. My worry is she will entice the French with her artificially-sweet, saccharine words and then? A natural progression is to think back to Germany in 1933. The youthful Hitler snared the poverty-stricken Germans with encouraging words about food and jobs - and indeed, in power, fulfilled all these promises - but then, all that glory and popularity pushed him to reveal his true, evil hard core.
Today may be a day for women but, especially in politics, beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. Sometimes, better to stick to the devil you know.
27th March 2011
The pitfalls of selling your house - I suppose the same wherever you live, but in France the agony is much prolonged because there are no buyers! First, I made a herculean effort to spruce up the place for the 'glossy' estate agent photos.. (I pictured in my mind the continuous annoyance of seeing washing-up permanently in the sink)...not realising that I would need to keep up this impossible perfection for ever in case that elusive buyer walks up the drive. Every day I seem to notice something that makes me panic, ordering Him indoors to quickly fetch that brush to put a fresh coat of paint over everything bar the dogs; (he says he'll gloss over that, and anyway they already have distemper!). I've tried to think of everything, should that longed-for phone call announce an imminent arrival. Action-stations will include fresh coffee on the perk and dogs out of the way in the car. But, above all, I've got to realise that the French do things differently. Let the agent do the showing around. Make yourself scarce; hide in the garage if necessary. But first I need to find a buyer. Take a look if you're curious. It's on http://www.agencedisc.fr/ (ref. 0211 8208). For a holiday home with pool in the sunny S.W. of France, it's a snip - no reasonable offers refused!
20th March 2011
Normally English TV is a good antidote for my depression. However, I've learned to restrict news bulletins to one a day.
Yesterday my football team lost, so I watched the Rugby, only to see England lose to Ireland. Then, flicking through the channels - typical Saturday night rubbish - left me watching Dad's Army. I dozed off, only to wake suddenly and think I was still in war-time. I blinked and struggled to wake up my senses as I scrabbled myopically for my glasses. In the foreground was undoubtedly the Elysee Palace in Paris, but there seemed to be a mix of historical figures standing on the steps between the gothic pillars. The tall fellow to the left looked like the stately Charles de Gaulle, back erect, weak chin and sharp nose. In the middle was, strangely, Napoleon! Very short, arrogant stance, tiny feet, dark-haired and well turned out. Standing behind was none other than Winston Churchill. Must have been him with that shiny bald head, short stature - and I'd know that voice anywhere. I strained to hear him say '..we'll fight 'em on the beaches...' but the sound was too low for me to hear. And, standing next to de Gaulle, was that Margaret Thatcher in the pink jacket and handbag, being wooed by that small 75-year old Italian Casanova?
Clearly I must cut back on all that Gaillac wine!
Yesterday my football team lost, so I watched the Rugby, only to see England lose to Ireland. Then, flicking through the channels - typical Saturday night rubbish - left me watching Dad's Army. I dozed off, only to wake suddenly and think I was still in war-time. I blinked and struggled to wake up my senses as I scrabbled myopically for my glasses. In the foreground was undoubtedly the Elysee Palace in Paris, but there seemed to be a mix of historical figures standing on the steps between the gothic pillars. The tall fellow to the left looked like the stately Charles de Gaulle, back erect, weak chin and sharp nose. In the middle was, strangely, Napoleon! Very short, arrogant stance, tiny feet, dark-haired and well turned out. Standing behind was none other than Winston Churchill. Must have been him with that shiny bald head, short stature - and I'd know that voice anywhere. I strained to hear him say '..we'll fight 'em on the beaches...' but the sound was too low for me to hear. And, standing next to de Gaulle, was that Margaret Thatcher in the pink jacket and handbag, being wooed by that small 75-year old Italian Casanova?
Clearly I must cut back on all that Gaillac wine!
13th March 2011
In the Guardian recently was an article about publishing on the latest gadgetry. I suddenly realised that the latest Kindle might be a good idea - particularly for older readers of my 'Paradis' book. However much you love books in their true form - which I do - you can't make the print any bigger!! And many are the times when people sit on their wretched reading glasses or need a magnifying glass to read. (Him indoors says: whatever you do, don't try to eat soup with it). For all these reasons, the Kindle seems like an excellent idea if it enables you to increase the font size, and is less likely to get lost down the back of the settee.
So, I went to the Amazon.co.uk site to try and publish my work on their Kindle. They use what they term a Digital Text Platform (or something), but they guide you through each step of the way. You can even upload your own cover, if you're a whizz with these things, but it will only appear in black and white. But, most importantly, it doesn't cost anything to upload your work. I did try to fix a cheap buying price (you know, pile 'em high 'n sell 'em cheap), but the cheapest it would let me put was $2.99. If you're one of my (many!) fans, you can take a look by logging on to amazon.co.uk and go to the kindle site and search for Paradis, Rose and the Ancient Temple of Petra or Tina and the Colosseum of Rome.
Anyway, while I wait to become a millionaire, I'll carry on regardless.
So, I went to the Amazon.co.uk site to try and publish my work on their Kindle. They use what they term a Digital Text Platform (or something), but they guide you through each step of the way. You can even upload your own cover, if you're a whizz with these things, but it will only appear in black and white. But, most importantly, it doesn't cost anything to upload your work. I did try to fix a cheap buying price (you know, pile 'em high 'n sell 'em cheap), but the cheapest it would let me put was $2.99. If you're one of my (many!) fans, you can take a look by logging on to amazon.co.uk and go to the kindle site and search for Paradis, Rose and the Ancient Temple of Petra or Tina and the Colosseum of Rome.
Anyway, while I wait to become a millionaire, I'll carry on regardless.
6th March 2011
Dogs always embarrass you - usually at the worst possible moments.
We went down to Gaillac, as planned. As usual, we were 'forced' to take Bruno and Tina with us in the car. (Bruno wrecks the house if left alone or leaps over the garden gate; Tina just sets off a plaintive cry....I know, I should be more masterful). We pulled into our new driveway and shook hands with the owner family, who were on their best behaviour. We were still within that nerve-jangling 7-day cooling-off period and they didn't want us to pull out. We went into the house and were discussing the relative merits of various items of furniture when Madame said 'why don't you let your dogs out of the car? They can run around the garden.' Foolishly, a trifle nervously it must be said, we did so. Both dogs raced around, then nosed their way into the house via the ajar French windows. We all ignored them until an unmistakeable aroma pervaded the room. OMG - doggie droppings all over their best rug!! Ironically, the owners couldn't complain for fear of putting us off the sale!
On the way home, Him indoors said laconically: '....wasn't quite the deposit the owners had in mind'. Quite.
We went down to Gaillac, as planned. As usual, we were 'forced' to take Bruno and Tina with us in the car. (Bruno wrecks the house if left alone or leaps over the garden gate; Tina just sets off a plaintive cry....I know, I should be more masterful). We pulled into our new driveway and shook hands with the owner family, who were on their best behaviour. We were still within that nerve-jangling 7-day cooling-off period and they didn't want us to pull out. We went into the house and were discussing the relative merits of various items of furniture when Madame said 'why don't you let your dogs out of the car? They can run around the garden.' Foolishly, a trifle nervously it must be said, we did so. Both dogs raced around, then nosed their way into the house via the ajar French windows. We all ignored them until an unmistakeable aroma pervaded the room. OMG - doggie droppings all over their best rug!! Ironically, the owners couldn't complain for fear of putting us off the sale!
On the way home, Him indoors said laconically: '....wasn't quite the deposit the owners had in mind'. Quite.
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