It has finally arrived! My "Carte Vitale", which gives me automatic access to the French health system, arrived today. Feeling neglected, and none too well, I first applied for admission in June last year. Everything I have read, confirmed by The World Health Organisation, states that the French health system is the best in Europe and amongst the best in the world. It occurred to us, when we moved here, that this might be a very good place to be unwell. As a good example, just before we moved to France, Jan had started a six month wait to see to see a consultant in the UK, but when we got here, she saw one immediately, and her condition improved dramatically long before she would have seen the consultant in England.
The major problem, however, with the French Health System is that it is basically bankrupt, and provides a level of service that is unsustainable in the long term. Hence my desire to join, before somebody got the smart idea of stopping further admissions. Now watch me get ill!
Being half Italian, I tend to support Italy when it comes to ball sports. Rugby, because they always get their arses kicked, so I end up supporting the underdog, and football because they are the ones doing the kicking and I like being on the winning side. Watching rugby, this afternoon, it makes me laugh when they mention individuals in the Italian side. Take, for example, the very Italian sounding name, Kaine Robertson. Obviously the Italian coach, a New Zealander himself, has to scour the world for any rugby player with the remotest Italian connection. He has such a small pool to pick from in Italy, so that emigrants to the Southern Hemisphere are an obvious breeding ground. If he only got smart and started picking Italian Americans (the cosy nostrils), whether they could play rugby or not, who would then "put the word out" and win every game to the end of time! I must offer my services.
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