I hate tourists! I know what you're going to say, but it's the English particularly. I remember one particular (OK Yah) woman in our old place showing some friends around: '...and here's our Mary....'. I looked around, expecting to see some cute little girl, only to see her pointing grandly at the castle ramparts where resided the French town hall (mairie).
So, it was with some trepidation that we showed our son around nearby Albi, capital of the Tarn. Success. Not only did we not encounter a single other tourist, but we found that rare place - a French vegetarian restaurant. (I remembered our old neighbour, on learning that one of us didn't eat meat: 'Mais...c'est un catastrophe!). The Albi central streets are charming, full of cobbled alleyways and delicious little shops and boutiques. We trudged up the slope past the Musee de Toulouse-Lautrec and found the surprising Jardin du Palais de Berbie, which winds down stoney steps to the cool waters and the Pont-Vieux over the Tarn beneath. All in all, a great day. Even Him Indoors enjoyed it. Normally he just rushes us around so he can get a beer back home. Some Englishmen never change.
19 June 2011
Sunny day yesterday so we strolled down our long garden to the little abri (shed) at the bottom, only to discover a deluge of water pouring out of an open pipe within. Great lakes soaking into both our land and our new neighbour's! Him indoors says the plumber looked like Monsieur Poireau...... (French for leek). Oh well, It all makes work for the working man to do....
12 June 2011
Bonjour to Gaillac and le Gaillacois! Where exactly is it? It's midway between Toulouse, Albi and Montauban. For wine lovers, it's the best place in the world, famous for its Pays des Bastides, with rows of vines regimented like soldiers up the rolling hillsides.
Well, that's the tourist ad. Now down to the nitty-gritty. It's very hard work, this moving lark. TG I changed my mind at the last minute and decided against the do-it-yourself move. At last we found a local removal firm who charged less than 1000 euros. I know..everything costs here. It would have killed us to do it ourselves. How on earth I'd managed to accumulate so much stuff, I don't know. But, we're acclimatising ourselves. Gaillac has 3 market days per week, all a cycle ride away. And, there's a group from the tourist office at the Abbey St. Michel who welcome new arrivals.
Now all I've got to do is locate the electricity and water meters - know they must be around somewhere? And, find the dogs and Him indoors - hiding in the long grass, or should I say meadow at the bottom of the garden.
...
Well, that's the tourist ad. Now down to the nitty-gritty. It's very hard work, this moving lark. TG I changed my mind at the last minute and decided against the do-it-yourself move. At last we found a local removal firm who charged less than 1000 euros. I know..everything costs here. It would have killed us to do it ourselves. How on earth I'd managed to accumulate so much stuff, I don't know. But, we're acclimatising ourselves. Gaillac has 3 market days per week, all a cycle ride away. And, there's a group from the tourist office at the Abbey St. Michel who welcome new arrivals.
Now all I've got to do is locate the electricity and water meters - know they must be around somewhere? And, find the dogs and Him indoors - hiding in the long grass, or should I say meadow at the bottom of the garden.
...
5 June 2011
The bells are tolling in Paradis. As I walked around the village yesterday, touching ancient crepi walls, I bid a silent farewell to our home of six years. Nothing much had changed. The swirling waters of the Aveyron were still gurgling over the weir at the Moulin; the charming old men still doffed their hats. So why?
Nothing in life's perfect. Village life's a bit like Trumpton of yesteryear: there the miller, there the firemen, there the grocer. But, can life be lived permanently like this? For those of us who've reached that benchmark of 60 years, it becomes increasingly obvious that more is needed. A car here is a necessity. But, what if eyesight fades so we can't drive any more? What if we can't reach the shops? Idealism is all well and good, but at some point reality kicks in.
So, merci beaucoup Paradis but we're now moving on. La vie francaise must continue but tweaked a little. Like the French Derby winner yesterday, Pour Moi is now tout important.
Nothing in life's perfect. Village life's a bit like Trumpton of yesteryear: there the miller, there the firemen, there the grocer. But, can life be lived permanently like this? For those of us who've reached that benchmark of 60 years, it becomes increasingly obvious that more is needed. A car here is a necessity. But, what if eyesight fades so we can't drive any more? What if we can't reach the shops? Idealism is all well and good, but at some point reality kicks in.
So, merci beaucoup Paradis but we're now moving on. La vie francaise must continue but tweaked a little. Like the French Derby winner yesterday, Pour Moi is now tout important.
29 May 2011
Money, money, money...it's a rich man's world. And yet, if you retire to another country like France, don't be confused. Yes, you may have capital from the sale of your English overpriced home, but that means naught if you haven't got a decent monthly income or pension.
Why do we pay social security payments all our working lives? Shouldn't it be to secure financial security for yourself in your old age? Seems not. It goes to pay for the young and feckless at the moment. Everyone says, when you yourself are old, those who are young then will pay for you. But, if you then move abroad? Current UK expats in France who paid state contributions all their working lives receive just the basic pension, no benefits and no top-ups. And France? They're stopping the only top-up benefit available to expats (ASPA) who become ill or hit hard times. What then is the EU for? Every country can't cop out of paying. Someone must pay the tab - the buck stops here.
Why do we pay social security payments all our working lives? Shouldn't it be to secure financial security for yourself in your old age? Seems not. It goes to pay for the young and feckless at the moment. Everyone says, when you yourself are old, those who are young then will pay for you. But, if you then move abroad? Current UK expats in France who paid state contributions all their working lives receive just the basic pension, no benefits and no top-ups. And France? They're stopping the only top-up benefit available to expats (ASPA) who become ill or hit hard times. What then is the EU for? Every country can't cop out of paying. Someone must pay the tab - the buck stops here.
22 May 2011
Is it me, or has the world gone mad? First it was that mad US preacher who predicted an apocalypse at 6 p.m. last night. Don't know about you, but I still seem to be here. Then there was 'Houston, the Pontiff's calling' , as the Pope talks to astronauts. Right. A perfectly standard thing for the Catholic head to do. Doesn't he realise that religion and science don't mix? It's that old paradox: matter v the spirit. And now I read that the EU are going to pay French fishermen to fish for.....plastic!
At least this week's French news that extra traffic police are to be called in is more normal - if not typical. Signs throughout France warning of radar speed traps are to be removed. It's nothing to do with gaining more revenue for the state, though. 'Course not. So, in typical French fashion, there's to be a national road-block day on 2 June to protest. All well and good, except that it's being called not by the poor harrassed motorists, but by the radar sign manufacturers (who fear going out of business)!
It's all a sore trial to my sanity.
At least this week's French news that extra traffic police are to be called in is more normal - if not typical. Signs throughout France warning of radar speed traps are to be removed. It's nothing to do with gaining more revenue for the state, though. 'Course not. So, in typical French fashion, there's to be a national road-block day on 2 June to protest. All well and good, except that it's being called not by the poor harrassed motorists, but by the radar sign manufacturers (who fear going out of business)!
It's all a sore trial to my sanity.
15 May 2011
What is it with France and culture? Financial austerity everywhere, but don't touch our culture, say the French. At last night's Eurovision song contest, William Hill's had French entrant M. Vasilie at odds-on to win. At last, an entrant who could actually sing, competing against pop dross all around. Of course, he lost. And then there's the ongoing Cannes film festival, where Woody Allen proposed his own 'idealised' version of Paris. What chutzpah - making a film full of touristy cliches, employing the French first lady and telling the French in France how Paris should be. Of course, what all this proves is that it's not the individual merit of each entry that's important, it's political correctness that counts. If you belong to a national culture where supporting your neighbouring country is paramount, then forget quality - la politique essentielle is the thing. Secular France may not espouse public religion, but la cultur embodying national affiliations - now that's very different. Bring back De Gaulle, that's what I say.
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