DEPEM (I don't know what it means either)

The other day a door shelf in the fridge broke so I looked for a replacement on the internet. I found exactly what I was looking for at DEPEM and nearly fell off my chair when I saw the price, €49.
It did however arrive with a personal bodyguard in a sedan chair without fuss about four days later.
Jan moaned about the price, and I can't say that I was happy, but when you consider that items like this are being stocked in their thousands for a whole range of new and elderly white goods in huge warehouses with no guarantee that they will be sold then it kind of makes some sense.
Compare this to foam shoe insoles. Whilst waiting at the checkout in Carrefour the other day I noted that the cheapest, simple foam shoe insoles cost €5. Now to me, that's expensive. And the prices went up to €17 for the super dooper ones that help you walk on water.
Given that these products are sold in their thousands in supermarkets and are simply stamped out from huge sheets then in my mind that makes them very, very expensive.
There's a job going for a latter day Ralph Nader.

Going home

After a great couple of hours with the grandchildren yesterday and a failed attempt to get into Jamie's Italian in Brighton last night it's back to France today.
Look, I know we are not in any way comparing like with like, but having to wait for an hour to get a table at Jamie's (we didn't wait) then walking next door to try Vietnamese street food, on a Monday night, I could only compare with my fairly recent futile, hopeless attempts to get a table, any table, anywhere, within a reasonable distance of where we are living in France on a Tuesday night.
Don't get me wrong, I know we live out in the sticks but service, real customer service, is nothing but a distant notion in France and frankly I can't really see it changing much.
Take my recent attempt to cancel our French mobile phones with SFR. I established what I had to do, how much notice I had to give and wrote them a nice letter explaining that we were leaving for England and would they be kind enough to cease the service on 1st March. I gave lots of notice. I enclosed separate signed letters from both of us.
Fairly shortly after, I received a confirmation email that they were sorry to see me leave, offering further service, and that they would cancel my contract on, wait for it, 22nd February. So far Jan has heard nothing.
They don't deserve me as a customer and sure as hell I don't deserve them.

A medical emergency

It was Sunday afternoon and Max had lost the bandage from his leg whilst out on a walk. He has quite a long stitched wound which is still raw in parts and it has to be kept covered for several days more. I knew what we needed to cover it and asked the resident medical person to bring me the necessary.
It transpired that we had a roll of stretch, self sticking tape but no gauze and nothing to hold the covering in place. Even though I say so myself, whilst I'm not too good with stuff like blood and babies being born, in an emergency I'm cool and objective.
I racked my brain. Where could I get what I needed? Bing - we had a small first aid kit in the car. It was bound to contain what we needed. I came back triumphantly. I'd rescued the day.
So what did it contain? I couldn't believe my eyes, there were no bandages, no gauze, just a handful of safety pins, a few plasters covered in Disney characters, some rehydration powder and enough Immodium to deal with an outbreak of dysentery over a hundred mile radius.
We might have limbs hanging by a thread and be bleeding to death but there was no way we would get the shits. Ever.
Added to that all the names and instructions for the medicine were written in Spanish. So useful for the next civil war but little else. Bugger.

We have got to do something

I must admit to being a little confused. There has been a move recently to call women that act, actors.

When I were a lad, when men were men and women weren't, a man was called an actor and a woman was called an actress. What has changed? Who authorised this change to the English language. I must have missed something.

When I start my new religion, (application forms will be available shortly), a religion that involves me receiving a lot of money and sex (and not necessarily in that order), I will set up a very influential department, headed by my mate Bryan, or anybody else who outbids him, to control the language and stop any unauthorised changes. A bit like the sterling work done by the Académie Francaise.

All and any changes to the English language will be approved by me and Bryan (know now and forever as the two immortals) who will sit in judgement and have the final say. There will be no more of this sloppy LOL business. Join me.

Nespresso

I first tasted a Nespresso coffee when we were down at B&P's in Barcelona. I was deeply suspicious being of the 'old school' when it comes to coffee. However, despite my reservations about not using a traditional coffee machine and ground coffee, I was very, very pleasantly surprised.
With this as a background Jan very kindly bought me a Nespresso machine for Christmas and we've been working our way through the sample coffees that came with it. We really liked three of the different coffees (one of which came from India) and all of which have an excellent creamy head.
Today was the day that we needed to place an order for more coffee. So far so good. Now rarely do I shout at the computer screen, I consider myself fairly long suffering, but today was different. In order to buy coffee you have to join their bloody 'club' and the club joining process was tortuous. They need to know exactly where the machine was bought, the exact model (of which there were many to choose from), the bloody serial number of the machine and then your choice of the various coffees which has to be purchased in multiples of 50.
Talk about grabbing you by the balls. I hate this type of merchandising. Listen you assholes, all I want to do is buy some bloody coffee. I'll let you know when I want to marry you.

The ultimate irony

Politics aside, to my way of thinking Assange doesn't come across as a very likeable person. Others may disagree but this made me laugh out loud. The ultimate irony.

And while I'm at it

Now that I've taken the pledge, I sleep well with no disruptions and being sober means that you can more easily see other people making a fool of themselves. Last night I had a drink. For me it was a big drink, egged on by you know who.


The result was that I woke at 04.00 and that's why I'm sitting here posting at 05.59. Let that be a lesson to all! (It's taken you all this time to figure that out? - Ed)


And, whilst I'm at it, what the hell has ex-foliating soap got to do with anything? All I want to do is wash my hands not rip them to shreds!


That's this morning's (early morning) lesson over with.

Not quite what it used to be

I feel like I'm falling to bits.


Over the last twelve months my teeth have started to crumble. Not massive breakages, but small pieces falling off. This year I have already had three crowns and there's another one to do. Appointments are already set up for next year. What's going on?


I think it's fair to say that this last twelve months I've been starting to feel a little less perfect. (Get a grip, you have no idea what perfect is - Ed) I know, I know, you're very surprised, but not as surprised as me. One minute you're god's gift to the world and the next you are starting to disintegrate.


I first noticed that things were changing about three years ago. Small memory gaps and that sort of thing and now my bloody teeth are falling to bits. Shit!


I stopped smoking about 13 years ago and nowadays I hardly drink so don't lecture me, I have been trying. (I suspect that it's all a bit too late - Ed)

Rise up mes braves

If there's one thing I hate, more than anything, it's unnecessary rudeness and wasting my time. I had a big run in with my bank recently, because we are in the house of a friend and have no utility bill in our name, to get them to change our address. I eventually managed it with a signed affidavit from our previous mayor.


In anticipation of a similar problem with our local Prefecture, when trying to change the address on my carte grise (car log book - because the insurance company wouldn't issue a new certificate without it), I asked the mayor of the village we currently live in to do the same. He very kindly obliged.


Armed with all my bits of paper, I wasted money and a full morning, travelling to Nimes and back, in order to get the address changed.


The Prefecture is situated in an old part of town and it's difficult to park but I found a space. The next hurdle was going to be waiting in line but I couldn't believe how quickly I got served. That's where my jubilation and good luck ended.


The sour faced woman behind the desk threw the mayor's letter to one side and said 'that's not acceptable.' No explanation or help, just total disdain. No amount of discussion from me made the slightest difference.


On the way out, spitting blood and ready to seriously injure someone, I managed to calm myself sufficiently to ask someone what documentation would be acceptable. I was told that I needed a letter from the person who owns the house, a copy of his passport, proof that he owns the house and some form of confirmation that ties me to the address.


Despite spending a lot of time searching, there was no mention of this on the Prefecture website. What a bunch of wankers! All I wanted to do is change the bloody address for the car.


It appears that the individual in this country is not trusted by 'officialdom.' 'Officialdom' sets up such tight rules and regulations based on the assumption that everyone is trying to screw them. They trust no one. It would have been so much easier to not do anything and keep shtum. It just doesn't pay to be honest here. It's no wonder that the French like to revolt.


Rant over.

Wikileaks

I'm not convinced about Wikileaks motives and frankly hiding behind journalistic rules is, for me, laughable.


The so called 'great and the good' came out to offer their support for Assange's bail and one of them defended 'the public's right to know.' I think that's bollocks. Nobody has the right to know everything. This all 'human rights' nonsense and has nothing to do with why he was in court anyway. Conspiracy theorists will no doubt disagree.


Very little of what I've seen so far is real news. Any sensible guess would have come up with the same information. The US were grossly negligent in allowing this stuff into the public domain and Wikileaks are nothing but mischievous in releasing it. If anybody gets hurt as a result of 'the leaks' then they deserve to be punished.


Hacking attacks like this only add to my uncomfortable feeling about Wikileaks.

X Factor

It's amazing how, over the years, Craig and I have agreed on so much and, in the light of that, Jan and I decided to watch X Factor last night. Well, OK, it was the least uninteresting programme on television.


What a load of rubbish. It was no better than a pub karaoke and only two of the 'acts' could actually sing in tune. This is prime time television. What a mess.


The so called judges spat out their platitudes with bon mots like 'you have tried your best' and 'you've bounced back from a poor performance last week.' What happened to the bon mots, 'you can't bloody sing!' Based on this weeks performance, last week must have been abysmal.


All this to the backing of mindless, screaming, teenagers, who wouldn't know if their kebab meat was lamb or turkey. If you strip away the fancy set, the orchestration and the slick dancers you are left with absolutely nothing. A huge void filled with squeaky, tuneless, hopelessness.


Is this the cream of British talent? Simon Cowell has made a fortune on this tat. God help us all. Never again.

Nuisance calls

It's early and I'm upstairs trying to get my left lens in when the phone rings downstairs. As I move to the stairs I realised that the lens was inside out but ploughed on regardless.


It's too early for a call from England so it must be France and I put my mind into French mode. Blinking furiously I reached the phone just as it stopped ringing. Bugger, bugger and thrice bugger.


Why don't I just let the bloody thing ring out but after many years of trying to answer a call within three rings in a previous life, it's hard to do. Anyway I took the phone upstairs thinking that if it was important they'd ring again and I'd be ready. Nothing.


Lens fixed I wandered downstairs and dialled 3013. The number that rung was 0177 69 04 01 and I recognised the number from previous missed calls so I decided to Google it. Quite a few sites referred to this number as a nuisance caller. How weird.


And there you were thinking that I didn't lead an exciting life!

Getting ready

We went over to look at the new house in Ripon this morning and then over to the solicitors to sign contracts.

What an incredibly simple process compared to our recent house sale. Fifty signatures in France, from all parties, three in England from one party. France has got its head up its bureaucratic, Napoleonic arse as usual.

Whilst we won't actually take possession until next week, all the necessary papers are now complete and ready for the go. This afternoon I called all the utilities and set them up on the phone. No problem.

Compare this to my bank in France, Credit Agricole, who after I had gone to the trouble of informing them, wanted an affidavit from the mayor and copies of our passports, just to change the address on our account. Looking online, the address still hasn't been changed a week after they finally agreed to change it. What a bunch of wankers.

Golf goes downhill

I haven't seen or heard any comments about this, but has anybody else noticed the crowd booing during the golf?


It seems to happen every time the Europe team hits a good shot or similar. 


You never hear it the other way round. Is the game being followed by a bunch of yobs now? I thought it was bad enough hearing booing on football terraces but at least that's usually associated with one footballer shagging another footballers wife, so it's somewhat understandable.


In tennis you quite often hear the crowd clapping when someone hits a bad shot but I can't ever remember anything like this.

Where is it?

One thing that continually pisses me off about life in France is the poor service I get from my bank. I bank with Credit Agricole.


I deposited CASH in one of their branches at 15.45 on Monday 27th September. I have the automated machine receipt to prove it. I checked my account at 09.45 on Wednesday 29th September and it didn't show.


What oh what is going on? I realise and sympathise that employees suffer from having to work 35 hours a week and this results in the need for more automation, but a fancy new automated machine takes my cash and seemingly refuses to give it up.


This is cash for goodness sake. Where is it. What have they done with it? Where does it spend its time for 42 hours? Certainly not in my account.


I remember a time when I exceeded my overdraft by €100 over a month end. My account handler was on the phone to me at dawn on the first of the month. 


Now that is good service!!


*********************




Later this afternoon I received the following email:

bonjour

it is 2 days before it si credited on your account because there is a verification of the amount first by an external company according to the amount

it should be credited this afternoon

also they told me at the branch that if you put cash in before midday it is quicker for the credit into the account

regards

So there you have it. The largest bank in France doesn't trust its own staff to count cash and requires two days to credit a cash deposit to your account. 

Amazing.

Yet more strikes

Another series of national, bloody strikes today which means all the kids will be at home and which means another piss poor internet service for our already overstretched village.


Whenever the kids are at home downloading all their trash (as opposed to my trash) it's really difficult to get a decent service. You have to get up early, as the service gets progressively worse during the morning as the little darlings emerge from their stinking pits. And, before you complain, I've had kids!


When the service is bad it can be worse than dial-up. As long as we have lived here there have been many people in the village who can't get broadband at all because there is 'no more capacity.'


Anybody would think that we live in a small village in rural France.

It's a car stupid

One thing that really, really irritates me is reading a forum post where someone asks for help with their PC, and some smug git says, 'buy a Mac.'


Let me nail this one, once and for all.


In all the years that I've owned a PC it (they) have never let me down. I take sensible precautions and they just work.


I see it like this. Two men decide to buy a car with the intention of getting them from A to B. One man decides to buy a Rolls Royce for £100,000 and the other decides to get a Ford, or whatever, and spends £30,000.


For 99% of the time both cars get both men from A to B without any problem. One would expect, and factor into the buying decision, that the Ford, being mass produced, and built from cheaper components might break down say 1% of the time. Both cars perform the same function of transport but one is arguably more pretty and more comfortable than the other.


There isn't much difference in the actual arrival time for most journeys because other factors like the speed limit and traffic come into play. There's only ever seconds or minutes in it.


If the Ford breaks down there is a garage on every corner that can help. If the Rolls breaks down there's difficulty finding a dealer and he will charge a lot to get the thing fixed.


Each man can of course spend his money as he wishes but some men will think carefully about buying a means of transport that, when all is said and done, still only performs the function of getting them from A to B.

ihate

Seems that I'm not the only one who has a problem with Apple.

I've got an allergy

I have a problem with people who say that they are allergic to stuff, particularly foodstuffs. How many times have you heard someone tell you that they're allergic, when you suspect that they just don't like it. 


It's hard to argue with someone who says they're allergic but more difficult as an adult to say, 'I don't like it.' Especially when the answer to, 'have you ever tried it?, is usually, 'no.' 


With that in mind I noticed this morning in Sainsbury's a shelf of stuff with nothing in it. 'Gluten, wheat, dairy, fat and sugar free' the poster proclaimed. This stuff, whatever it was, so was so free of ingredients that it had disappeared up its own ass.


Anyway, who says that old people don't have a sense of humour. I was watching the Grand Prix this afternoon with my mother, who doesn't like motor racing, when a car spun out of control and stopped blocking half the track. Realising that it was very dangerous the driver jumped out and ran away. "Has he stopped to go for a pee?" said my aged mother mischievously.

Way over the top

I know it's only a small thing (what exactly are you talking about? - Ed) but has anybody else noticed how hard the tyres are inflated on a hire car? I've hired more than enough cars over the years to have noticed this. To me the handling generally feels slightly 'skittish' and a bit 'unsure' in the wet (go to somewhere dry - Ed).


So, with a bit of time on my hands this week, I decided to investigate. I'm a bit anal (you don't say? - Ed) about tyre pressures and so bought a smart new pressure gauge from Sainsbury's. Don't you just love that store?


Anyway, on checking the tyres they were set at about 39 psi each. In my opinion, that's way too high, so on checking with the handbook I noticed that the tyres had two recommended settings. One setting for 'comfort' which looked about right to me and one for 'low petrol consumption'. Yeah, low petrol consumption and poor handling instant death.


Now I'm no mechanical engineer but in my opinion inflating tyres to such high pressure makes them dangerous. Words will be had with the hire company later. Still, this well known hire company was half the price of the other I tried so I don't suppose you can have everything.