Want a carpet?

The car pulled up beside us and a smiling  face said  “Ah, bonjour” as if we were old acquaintances. A hand was proferred through the window.

Trying to place the chap, I shook his hand and Bear did likewise. We both thought the other one knew him.

But then he started his patter. His story was that his friend had had an accident near Metz “You know where that is don’t you?” and he had been selling his carpets for him.

“I’ve just got one left. You can have it at a very good price.”

“No thank you.”

“But WHY don’t you want my carpet?”

“We have a person in a wheelchair at home. A carpet wouldn’t be practical.”

Fortunately he didn’t have an answer for this so wished us good day and drove on,  presumably in search of his next victim.

The Art of Conversation

My live-in pupil went home yesterday and I’m not sure who was more relieved - Quentin or me.

It’s not that he was any trouble to have around. He stayed in bed until almost lunchtime, refused anything to eat or drink for a ‘belated breakfast’  and, apart from  two sessions of English each day, spent most of his time playing Nintendo on the spare television or amusing himself on the computer.

In the evenings he prefered to cook his own meal of pasta and then went back to his games or watched a film on his ipod.

The only time we spent ‘en famille’ was at lunchtime, when I kind of insisted that we all eat together. Attempts to instigate a conversation were difficult, partly because his level of English wasn’t up to it and partly because no-one else in the household seemed prepared to make an effort.

It’s not easy to ascertain whether Quentin was bored or shy but he seemed very keen to disappear into his world of virtual games and often needed a gentle prod to come and ‘do some English’.

His parents had wanted him to go and stay with a family in England while they went on holiday to Honfleur, so I get the impression that this was his ‘punishment’ for refusing.

Anyway, two  daily ‘lessons’ of about an hour were enough for both of us as concentration lagged. I discovered that his routine at home during the holidays wasn’t much different from his life with us. He would stay in his room watching films until lunchtime then play Nintendo or ‘Chat’ online for most of the day. He might go out with his mates or play tennis though.

His parents were very grateful to us for taking him on but I fear their hopes that he would make up for two years of failed English at school in less than two weeks were rather optimistic.

The most depressing part of this last fortnight is that it suddenly struck me how little we, as a family, talk to each other.

Chez-nous, the art of conversation is in danger of dying.

08-08-08

Of course, eight is a lucky number for the Chinese and, no doubt, that accounts for the spectacularly successful opening to the Olympic Games but, here in the Ardennes this date also has special significance.

The Departments of France (counties only bigger) are numbered and we are 08,  so yesterday was celebrated in several ways.

A couple who had been living together for 28 years and raised three children decided, at last, to get hitched. They were aiming for August 9th but a friend at the Mairie persuaded them to make it 08.08 on 08-08-08. Despite the early hour over fifty guests were there to celebrate with them.

The local newspaper pictures a baby born at 8 o’clock. He weighed in at 3.4kg so I don’t think that’s quite enough to make 8lbs!

Several holiday clubs held special activities with the children to mark the day, the Post Office issued a stamp to mark the occasion and motorists travelled in a figure of eight for the hell of it.

But the ’star’ of the day was Woinic. (I’m still out of action regarding photos, so you’ll have to follow the link - sorry).

This enormous statue of a boar, weighing 50 tonnes, has been paraded through the Ardennes for several days before being positioned beside the A34 motorway near Faissault between Reims and Rethel at 8 o’clock on the 8th August 2008, so if you’re passing one of these days, give it a wave.

Did we do anything? Well, not intentionally. We went for lunch at the local pizzeria and noticed it was particularly busy. Friends of ours were at the next table and Madame looked extra specially nice so we asked if they were celebrating something.

“Yes, 08-08-08, of course,” quipped Monsieur.

“No, it’s my birthday” said his wife. She is the doyenne of the local Club so I didn’t ask her age. We simply wished her Joyeuse Anniversaire.

Grrrr Bear (continued)

This morning Bear apologised for shouting at me and gave me this excuse:

“I really thought it would be helpful to set up the printer next to my computer to save you bending down to do it underneath yours.”

At first, I took it at face value and believed him.

Then I started thinking.

If that really had been his intention why didn’t he say something when he saw that it involved installing software on his computer?

OK, so he could say he didn’t understand the implications.

But, when I asked whether he had the disc to install his old one on mine, surely that would have rung alarm bells. Instead, he just asked why I couldn’t simply plug it in and use it.

So, Bear has his beautifully plausible explanation to excuse himself for pinching the present he’d just  ”bought me” and I don’t have concrete proof that it was intentional - just a very strong suspicion.

Nevertheless, fate caught up with him today.

We walked down to the garage to collect the replacement for the broken lights (when he backed into the wood) and he had to pay 141 euros. This was because he didn’t notice that they had given him the whole fitting - not just the plastic cover. I mean, Sylvain took it out of the box to explain how to fix it and he didn’t notice, so, although I sympathise (to a certain extent) he’ll have to go and do his own complaining if he wants.

He’ll have to be quick, though. The garage closes for the holiday tomorrow.

Grrrr Bear!!!!!

It was too good to last.

Bear had been sooooo good since Friday when Sophie, Chris and Chaddy came to visit.

He was the epitome of charm the whole time they were here. Of course, it was very easy to take a liking to Sophie and Chris and we all felt very at home with one another.

Chaddy was lovely. He emerged from his cat carrier and immediately started to explore his new surroundings. Our cats were quite well behaved and there were  only a few hisses and spits. I think Chaddy would have been even more friendly if the residents had been a bit more welcoming but, at least, there weren’t any fights!

On Saturday, CC invited a friend to dinner as a belated 30th birthday celebration. Bear actually decided to join us at the table athough he wouldn’t eat the gaspacho and vegetable lasagne that Jay had cooked and had to have his own meal of melon and fish and chips. He was quite sociable and only made me wince when he greeted the young lady with the remark “Oh have you been sunbathing. You’re very tanned.” (as she is Sudanese).

He has kept a low profile since Sunday when our ‘pupil’ arrived but he has obviously been bottling up resentment because today it all came out.

He wanted to go shopping. On the way into town there was a police escort for a wide load approaching us. Bear kept to the middle of the road as usual. The policeman started to wave crossly. Bear didn’t move over so I shouted. He swerved out of the way at the last minute and then turned on me.

“What’s the matter with you? Oh, I know what it is. Whale is getting you down. You’re not being at all nice to me.”   etc. etc. etc.  “All your friends can see it. Why can’t you? Do you ever give a thought to how I feel?”

I decided to keep quiet because last time we argued while he was driving he went the wrong way down the bus lane.

By the time we got to the Citroen garage he had calmed down as he needed me to ask for the code to get his radio started.

Then it was on to the supermarket. My printer has packed up and he suggested looking at new ones. He offered to buy me a new one (as an apology?) and I readily accepted. He chose a new mouse for his own computer, we finished the shopping and came home.

As the boot was full he decided to reverse into the garage to facilitate unloading. This is always a dicey procedure and, sure enough, he was dangerously close to the wall whan I said gently,

“Careful. you haven’t enough room to get out and you’ll hit the wood.”

He muttered but drove out again and then reversed - at the same angle!

Of course, he hit the wood. And broke his rear light.

And it was everyone’s fault bar his.

“People leave things about and don’t tidy up after themselves.”

Who had stacked the remaining logs in that particular place? You’ve guessed it. He had. But I said nothing.

A while later I went into the bedroom to find the new printer attached to his computer. He even had the nerve to ask me how to install the software.

OK, so I put in the disc and then asked him if he still had the disc for his discarded printer so I could use that. I had given him the discs that went with his computer and asked him to take care of them but he hadn’t. He had no idea where they were. In fact it must have been me who had lost them.

“Anyway, you can just plug it in and it will work.” he announced.

“No it won’t. You have to install it. Like I’m installing this one for you.!”

He started swearing and shouting so I left him to it.

“Install your own printer  yourself then!”

Back to normal then.

Wonderful Workmanship

Bear waved a newspaper cutting under my nose.

“I want you to telephone this man and ask if I can go and see his organ.”

(Hastily put in photo in case anyone gets the wrong idea!)

It seems this gentleman has built an organ from scratch and assembled it in his living room beside  a grand piano.

Fortunately he welcomed visitors and was on holiday, so we were warmly invited to go over on Wednesday afternoon.

Despite the fact that I don’t share Bear’s fascination with organs I couldn’t help but be impressed with the wonderful workmanship and loving care which had gone into creating this little masterpiece.

Everything made from wood was his own handiwork. The bulk of the case was made from oak and he had used applewood, pearwood and lime for the decorations.

The metal pipes were bought, of course, and so were some of the other metal parts inside but he had made all the wooden pipes himself.

They were made from oak but the ‘mouthpieces’ were of applewood.

 

He had browsed the internet for design ideas (it had taken three months to plan) and inside the organ everything looked neat and perfect.

He had made the ‘white’ keys from applewood but the black ones came from a piano. He explained that they were just a fraction smaller than the standard size.

So, it looked perfect but what did it sound like?

Well, we can’t be sure yet because it is not  voiced and tuned. These jobs will need to be undertaken by a professional. However, we were allowed to play it, and despite the rather obvious intonation faults, it does have a potentially sweet sound - not too loud for a living room thank goodness.

The odd thing is that no-one in his family is an organist. He claims not to be able to read music but he did give a pretty good rendering of some Bach. His wife started to learn the piano but gave up after a few years and his son plays the guitar.

I was going to ask if the organ and piano would be tuned to the same pitch so that they could play duets but obviously that won’t be the case.

The piano was old and also out of tune but I couldn’t resist havng a little tinkle.

It made me realise just how rusty I’m getting.

We enjoyed a cool drink before leaving and were assured that we would be more than welcome to revisit when the organ was completely finished.

A Loaded Invitation

  This was the idyllic setting for a barbeque. The hedge has grown since our last visit to this house so you can no longer see the Meuse but the towering hills of the Ardennes are a wonderful sight to enjoy as you have an al fresco meal.

We were invited for Sunday lunch because they had a favour to ask; would we help their younger son with his English during August?

After a champagne aperitif and plenty of food and friendly conversation it was impossible to say no. But when I realised they meant Quentin to stay with us for several days at a time I began to see a few problems.

As far as I’m concerned it would be a pleasure. This young man, now 17, was the tiny baby we looked after when his uncle had a heart attack almost at the same time as we arrived in the village to stay in the holiday home belonging to another of his aunts.

The whole family went into shock. People rushed hither and thither and his mum pushed the baby into my arms  with breathless instructions for finding bottles and nappies etc. and disappeared in the car.

Sadly the uncle died and we went to stay in our friends’  ’real’ house in Charleville, leaving the family to grieve and organise the funeral in the village.

So now, we are going to be left ‘holding the baby’ again, so to speak. Bear is a bit grumpy about it, especially as I don’t know how long he’s going to be with us. We kind of arranged that they would bring him next Sunday evening and we’d ’see how it goes’. . . . . .

CC and Jay are sympathetic as they realise the poor lad probably doesn’t want to come and live with an English family whom he doesn’t know very well but they do feel it is a bit of an imposition.

As far as I’m concerned, I enjoy having visitors but am aware that some of the work will fall on CC and Jay’s shoulders if my knee doesn’t improve soon. We are all looking forward to meeting Sophie with Chris and Chaddy on Friday and some more friends are coming to stay at the end of August. Trouble is, I can’t be sure what will happen with Quentin in between.

It looks as though next month is going to be ‘interesting’.

Prime Suspect

Some time ago we noticed that the ’second telly’ - the one I use to watch French TV - was behaving badly. The colour came and went and sometimes the picture narrowed. 

This week we decided to take it to be repaired. The man put it on his bench and connected it while we were there.

“Strange,” he mused, “ir’s not a fault I’ve seen before. Leave it with me and I’ll ring you within 48 hours.”

Yesterday he telephoned to say he could repair it for 75 euros. It was not as bad as he had feared but ‘did we have a cat because they had found evidence of liquid. . . .?’

“You mean a cat has done a pee in the television?” I asked.

“Erm, yes. It’s quite possible.”

“Well we do have six of them so it’s highly likely.”

We collected it today and the man explained how he had cleaned it all inside.

“Our repairs are guaranteed for three months,” he announced as we left.

“Even against cats?”

“No, sorry!”

So who’s the guilty party I wonder.

                            Parsley likes sitting on the computer monitor,

 

 

or in the laundry basket.

 

 

 

 

 

The twins prefer to share an armchair.

 

 

 

 

 

Chloe likes a radiator.

 

 

 

 

Toby patrols to keep all the girls in order,

 

 

but suspect number one is Holly, as she spends quite a lot of time on the boxes behind the television.

What a Week

It has been a week of minor mishaps but nothing too serious.

The first sign of problems was on Wednesday when I went to see Yvette and had to rush to the loo very frequently for the sake of just a few drops. I suspected something like cystitis but couldn’t see how to fit in a doctor’s appointment until after my sister’s visit. 

On Thursday, in between wetting my knickers several times and having to change my clothes, I did the last minute jobs with CC and Jay to prepare the guest room and have a tidy round.

My sister and her husband arrived in their ‘new’ car - a silver sports model - and relaxed with a cool beer.

That evening we had a drawn out meal with lots of wine and chat and went to bed about midnight.

At around 2 in the morning Jay woke me up.

“Come upstairs. Mum, I want you to see this.”

I staggered out of bed and followed him up to his room. It was a very strange sight indeed: two tall shelves of CDs had keeled over and knocked the television off its table so that it went through the venetian blind. One shelf unit had dislodged a socket from the wall on the way down.

“Did you hear anything?” asked Jay.

“No, but I was fast asleep.” was my reply (and I have been known to sleep through the noisiest of storms).

“Well, it must have made a helluva noise - and I didn’t hear anything either.” he said. “I just woke up naturally, got up to go to the loo and found this mess.”

He was obviously quite spooked to think that this could have happened without him being aware of it. However, we put everything back in place as best we could, propping the shelves up with another table in case they decided to fall sideways again, and went back to bed.

The next morning Jay fixed the shelves to the wall with a bracket and, to our amazement, the television still worked! The blind will need replacing and we’ll have to repair the hole in the wall by the socket but it could have been much worse.

When my brother-in-law came down for a late breakfast he announced that my sister had been very sick all night and could he have a bucket and mop please. Oh dear. We must have opened (and drunk!) too many bottles of wine.

Wendy remained ‘fragile’ for another 24 hours and as Roger was content to stay home and watch the golf I was quite relieved not to have to venture far from the toilet myself.

We did manage a short trip to the supermarket but we were all pleased to get back.

On Saturday Bear was out of sorts so Roger took our car to drive Wendy and CC into town. They went on the ferris wheel and had a look round the shops - a good sign that Wendy was feeling back to normal.

Sadly, they had to go home on Sunday. Wendy brought the bags down and left Roger to load the car. They only had room to bring two bags but there was a third for the return journey. Roger left one behind! Fortunately it didn’t contain anything urgently needed for the journey but the next day we posted off his shaver, Wendy’s glasses, an inhaler and a book and documents for the car.

She said her slippers, make-up and toiletries could stay behind for their next visit and we could eat the sweets and biscuits!

So, finally it was off to the doctor’s on Monday. She agreed it seemed like a urinary infection and gave me a prescription for an analysis but put me on antibiotics straight away.

It wasn’t easy to get the sample into the small bottle provided by the chemist. It’s bad enough under normal circumstances but when you’re either rushing to get there before you ‘have an accident’ or else struggling to produce more than a few drops, following the instructions for a ‘midstream sample’ proved impossible.

I had to fill the bottle in three goes; probably not what was intended but the best I could do. It also had to be returned to the chemist before the ‘collection’ at 11.30.

Today I went to get the results. Yes, they had found unwanted bugs but according to the list of antibiotics these particular little beasties were resistant to the ones the doctor had given me. Today is her day off so I had to see the locum for her partner (as he is on holiday).

He gave me a new prescription but warned me that there could be a bad reaction if I go out in the sun.

Great. After a week of grey clouds and drizzle the sun has finally come out and I’m confined to the house.

Time Off

My sister and brother-in-law are due to arrive this afternoon so I’m taking a few days off.

Back next week.