When I drove my first departing guests to the airport this morning I was conscious of a significantly larger police presence than usual - in fact it made me feel very self-conscious - as I pulled up in the drop-off point there must have been eight different members of France's police forces (local, departmental and national) watching me - believe me eight is a lot for Carcassonne airport, plus the others parked on all the approach roads too. Something was obviously going on.
We had spent Sunday working away on Denis' apartment and then preparing dinner for our guests. Two unusual things happened - firstly, as I was waiting to start recording the final of Euro 2008, I just caught the end of an article on the French national news that was about Carcassonne - but I missed what it was about. Secondly, during dinner later that evening, we heard a plane go over on final approach to the airport - definitely not usual for that time of night. Both were remarked upon and then forgotten about.
When I got back from the airport, Debrah had an email from her mother asking about the shooting incident! A bit of internet news trawling and it all became apparent and made sense. The news item was reporting the shooting incident at the barracks, the late plane was the minister of defence arriving and the police presence this morning was for the arrival of President Sarkozy, here to visit the wounded in hospital. By the time I took my second departees to the airport at lunchtime, his jet was roaring back down the runway and off to Toulouse, where two of the seriously injured child victims were in hospital.
Monday is always quiet, but the whole town seemed more subdued than usual today - not surpising really. It was a bit of a shock that the, up until late yesterday afternoon, successful 3rd Parachute regiment open weekend should end with 17 civilians being shot - how live rounds found their way into the gun instead of the blanks that should have been there for the demonstration is the big talking point - anyone with any knowledge of these things has told me that you can't mistake the two, especially if you have eight years experience as the soldier in question did. Let's hope they can get to the bottom of it very quickly. It is a miracle that, so far, no-one has died of their wounds.
A sad day for Carcassonne.
Monday, 30 June 2008
Friday, 27 June 2008
Flashback Take 2
I've seen those TV programmes where people go back to the houses they used to live in or grew up in and because it's TV you think it must all be a bit staged and managed. Well, there were no cameras here last evening when the former owners of 42rvh, M et Mme D'Arzac and their son, came to visit and see what we have done with their old place.
I have seen M D'Arzac in the town from time to time - I recognised him, even though I had only met him the once, when we completed the purchase of the apartments three years ago. I have seen him walk past in the street, casting a glance up at the first floor windows.
M D'Arzac is a surgeon, and it's a small town. When Des was scheduled for a knee replacement recently, he just happened to mention the name of his surgeon and my ears lit up. I gave Des some of our cards and asked him to give them to M D'Arzac. A month later I had an email from his son, Aurélien, asking to book a room for his sister as a surprise for her engagement - the studio used to be her bedroom for ten years. I asked them around for an aperitif and last evening they came - I wasn't sure what to expect and it all felt a little surreal.
M D'Arzac was impressed with what we had done, they all were actually, but Mme D'Arzac seemed genuinely a bit moved by seeing her old house and Aurélien was a bit freaked out by being back in the house he grew up in. His sister doesn't yet know about her night in her old room and god knows how she will react, what with the emotion of an engagement as well - could be very interesting on August 15th here - maybe I should get some cameras!
They were very charming and very complimentary and have invited Debrah and I to visit them in Pennautier, where they now live.
For me, one of the most pleasing aspects of the hour I spent with them was that the whole conversation took place in French. I must have murdered their language, but they understood me and I understood them - so, 'voila', maybe I am getting the hang of it after all.
I have seen M D'Arzac in the town from time to time - I recognised him, even though I had only met him the once, when we completed the purchase of the apartments three years ago. I have seen him walk past in the street, casting a glance up at the first floor windows.
M D'Arzac is a surgeon, and it's a small town. When Des was scheduled for a knee replacement recently, he just happened to mention the name of his surgeon and my ears lit up. I gave Des some of our cards and asked him to give them to M D'Arzac. A month later I had an email from his son, Aurélien, asking to book a room for his sister as a surprise for her engagement - the studio used to be her bedroom for ten years. I asked them around for an aperitif and last evening they came - I wasn't sure what to expect and it all felt a little surreal.
M D'Arzac was impressed with what we had done, they all were actually, but Mme D'Arzac seemed genuinely a bit moved by seeing her old house and Aurélien was a bit freaked out by being back in the house he grew up in. His sister doesn't yet know about her night in her old room and god knows how she will react, what with the emotion of an engagement as well - could be very interesting on August 15th here - maybe I should get some cameras!
They were very charming and very complimentary and have invited Debrah and I to visit them in Pennautier, where they now live.
For me, one of the most pleasing aspects of the hour I spent with them was that the whole conversation took place in French. I must have murdered their language, but they understood me and I understood them - so, 'voila', maybe I am getting the hang of it after all.
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Flashback
The entire renovation of 42rvh just flashed before my eyes once more, and into my joints and bones via a van and 'dechetterie' or waste disposal.
I finally got around to removing all the debris and waste that I had temporarily parked in the empty room on the ground floor - the room whose owner was less than happy when he found it all there - how was I to know?, the place looked long abandoned and uninhabitable.
I shared a van rental with Patrick for the day and we shifted two loads out of the bar in the morning and then two loads out of 42rvh in the afternoon. In the process I relived 18 months of renovation as out came old doors, balustrades, tiling, baths, radiators, plasterboard, plumbing, electrics, wood and walls (in the form of hundreds of bags of debris).
Each load carried took me straight back to the time we removed it from it's original place and how and why it had to go and what is in it's place now.
But I am very very glad that I will never see them again. I must have moved half that rubble three times already and that was definitely the last. When we finally finished at six o'clock I was exhausted. I hadn't felt that tired for a very long time and my bones and muscles are definitely feeling it today.
That finally brings to an end the long running Operation Barney - hurrah, and I did manage to find my missing grout testing board - the one I had used to mix different measures of colour until we got just the right shade. I wasn't going to throw that away
To cap the day off, I had guests for dinner at eight, so two hours to shower, change, get my breath back and get dinner ready and the table set, when actually all I wanted to do was lie down.
I sometimes wonder why we put ourselves through these things - but dinner was a success and the guests are very happy and I feel better now that all the debris has gone from that room, so I guess it was worth all the effort.
Everything I pick up feels very heavy today though
I finally got around to removing all the debris and waste that I had temporarily parked in the empty room on the ground floor - the room whose owner was less than happy when he found it all there - how was I to know?, the place looked long abandoned and uninhabitable.
I shared a van rental with Patrick for the day and we shifted two loads out of the bar in the morning and then two loads out of 42rvh in the afternoon. In the process I relived 18 months of renovation as out came old doors, balustrades, tiling, baths, radiators, plasterboard, plumbing, electrics, wood and walls (in the form of hundreds of bags of debris).
Each load carried took me straight back to the time we removed it from it's original place and how and why it had to go and what is in it's place now.
But I am very very glad that I will never see them again. I must have moved half that rubble three times already and that was definitely the last. When we finally finished at six o'clock I was exhausted. I hadn't felt that tired for a very long time and my bones and muscles are definitely feeling it today.
That finally brings to an end the long running Operation Barney - hurrah, and I did manage to find my missing grout testing board - the one I had used to mix different measures of colour until we got just the right shade. I wasn't going to throw that away
To cap the day off, I had guests for dinner at eight, so two hours to shower, change, get my breath back and get dinner ready and the table set, when actually all I wanted to do was lie down.
I sometimes wonder why we put ourselves through these things - but dinner was a success and the guests are very happy and I feel better now that all the debris has gone from that room, so I guess it was worth all the effort.
Everything I pick up feels very heavy today though
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
Shock to the system
Christian is back in town after a weekend in London lying on his bed. He tried to avoid any work yesterday afternoon after his arrival but I finally got him upstairs to remove a load of rubbish which was in the way in Denis' apartment.
The next job at the bar was removing all the stuff that had been dumped in the basement and Christian said he wasn't doing it because of his fear of spiders and bugs - don't know where that came from? The problem for Christian was overcome the irrational fear or lose the job - he chose to overcome the fear - a good decision - I'm proud of him because it must have taken a lot of willpower to force himself down into that basement.
He said it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be - as always our imagination builds these things up beyond the reality.
Mind you he seems to have adopted French working practices very quickly - he started at 8.00am this morning and he knocked off at 4.00pm on the dot this afternoon. "I've done a full day", he said, before falling asleep on his bed for the next 4 hours - the same next 4 hours that saw Chris and I doing a 'full day' with an 8.30pm finish. I guess after years of sitting around on his arse, 8 hours manual labour must seem like a full day - but when you are being paid by the hour and are going travelling soon, well, personally I'd have put in a couple more hours for the money and to hell with computer games and myspace until two in the morning.
I don't mean to sound harsh on the boy - he's worked hard and he is being very good company and it's good to have him here. Oh you should see what we've got in store for him the rest of the week!
We are coming to crunch time on Denis' apartment - he arrives in a week's time and we haven't started painting yet! Bugger - there goes this weekend then - somehow, working around the four new guests who arrive on Friday, we need to lay the new floor, paint the whole apartment, build and install the bookshelves, clean and generally make good. I'm not feeling 100% confident of success but as ever we will give it our best shot - it was the same when we finished the apartment and the same when we finished the studio. Timing plans - load of rubbish.
The guests went up to the Cité today but generally had another relaxing day ahead of the family wedding they are attending at the weekend. They took the bikes out this afternoon and unfortunately suffered a puncture. Before I knew anything about it they had the wheel off and the inner tube out and were asking for a puncture repair kit, which I didn't have, so they have promised to take it up to the Peugeot cycle repair shop in the morning and get it fixed - aren't they lovely?
In fact all our guests continue to be lovely and continue to write fabulous reviews on tripadvisor and i-escape which drives even more people to our website - thank you all for your kindnesses. It has been a pleasure to meet each and every one of you - please don't stop coming!
The next job at the bar was removing all the stuff that had been dumped in the basement and Christian said he wasn't doing it because of his fear of spiders and bugs - don't know where that came from? The problem for Christian was overcome the irrational fear or lose the job - he chose to overcome the fear - a good decision - I'm proud of him because it must have taken a lot of willpower to force himself down into that basement.
He said it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be - as always our imagination builds these things up beyond the reality.
Mind you he seems to have adopted French working practices very quickly - he started at 8.00am this morning and he knocked off at 4.00pm on the dot this afternoon. "I've done a full day", he said, before falling asleep on his bed for the next 4 hours - the same next 4 hours that saw Chris and I doing a 'full day' with an 8.30pm finish. I guess after years of sitting around on his arse, 8 hours manual labour must seem like a full day - but when you are being paid by the hour and are going travelling soon, well, personally I'd have put in a couple more hours for the money and to hell with computer games and myspace until two in the morning.
I don't mean to sound harsh on the boy - he's worked hard and he is being very good company and it's good to have him here. Oh you should see what we've got in store for him the rest of the week!
We are coming to crunch time on Denis' apartment - he arrives in a week's time and we haven't started painting yet! Bugger - there goes this weekend then - somehow, working around the four new guests who arrive on Friday, we need to lay the new floor, paint the whole apartment, build and install the bookshelves, clean and generally make good. I'm not feeling 100% confident of success but as ever we will give it our best shot - it was the same when we finished the apartment and the same when we finished the studio. Timing plans - load of rubbish.
The guests went up to the Cité today but generally had another relaxing day ahead of the family wedding they are attending at the weekend. They took the bikes out this afternoon and unfortunately suffered a puncture. Before I knew anything about it they had the wheel off and the inner tube out and were asking for a puncture repair kit, which I didn't have, so they have promised to take it up to the Peugeot cycle repair shop in the morning and get it fixed - aren't they lovely?
In fact all our guests continue to be lovely and continue to write fabulous reviews on tripadvisor and i-escape which drives even more people to our website - thank you all for your kindnesses. It has been a pleasure to meet each and every one of you - please don't stop coming!
Monday, 23 June 2008
Summer at last
The summer has finally arrived. In the middle of last week I awoke to a magnificent azure blue Languedoc sky and when I ventured out I knew that, at last, some decent weather was on the way - the air temperature was noticably up and you could smell the heat on the breeze.
It's been like that every day since last Wednesday - and not before time. May was very wet and even at the start of last week it actually felt cold in the morning - everyone was complaining about the damp and the cold and the wind. Guess what? - everyone was complaining at the weekend that it was too hot!! I have also found out that the French complain and talk about the weather as much as the English do. When it rains they complain of 'le temps anglais' and when it doesn't it is 'trop chaud'. Just like home really.
The fruit needed some sunshine though. Last year the cherries didn't ripen because it rained all through April and this year the melons haven't ripened because it rained all through May - lots of water content, but just not sweet enough. Excitingly though the first figs were in the market last Saturday - just love the figs - absolutely delicious with honey and yoghurt for breakfast.
Unlike my guests, who have come and gone, my cough and catarrh and voice are still struggling with the infection I picked up two weeks ago. Then again, I haven't had a day without guests and I haven't had a day 'off' as a result, so I haven't really given it a chance to sort itself out. I have tested several of the cough medicines available over the counter in French pharmacies - very tasty actually - when I was a kid I remember that medicine always tasted horrible - now I think they are very good straight or maybe on the rocks or with a dash of tonic. Maybe I shouldn't admit to that!
It's been like that every day since last Wednesday - and not before time. May was very wet and even at the start of last week it actually felt cold in the morning - everyone was complaining about the damp and the cold and the wind. Guess what? - everyone was complaining at the weekend that it was too hot!! I have also found out that the French complain and talk about the weather as much as the English do. When it rains they complain of 'le temps anglais' and when it doesn't it is 'trop chaud'. Just like home really.
The fruit needed some sunshine though. Last year the cherries didn't ripen because it rained all through April and this year the melons haven't ripened because it rained all through May - lots of water content, but just not sweet enough. Excitingly though the first figs were in the market last Saturday - just love the figs - absolutely delicious with honey and yoghurt for breakfast.
Unlike my guests, who have come and gone, my cough and catarrh and voice are still struggling with the infection I picked up two weeks ago. Then again, I haven't had a day without guests and I haven't had a day 'off' as a result, so I haven't really given it a chance to sort itself out. I have tested several of the cough medicines available over the counter in French pharmacies - very tasty actually - when I was a kid I remember that medicine always tasted horrible - now I think they are very good straight or maybe on the rocks or with a dash of tonic. Maybe I shouldn't admit to that!
Wednesday, 11 June 2008
Speechless
I awoke yesterday morning with a very painful sore throat. I don't know where it came from but there it was. The pain has disappeared over the course of the last 36 hours along with my voice, which was sexy and husky (Debrah's description) this morning and is a faint non-existent whisper this evening.
So it was a bit of a shame that I met some of the great and good of Carcassonne tonight and wasn't really able to express myself - lack of voice and bad French combined. The occasion was the opening of an extension to the interior design shop Inthérieur 13 and the crowd was almost predominantly French and, it appeared, the influential crowd of the town. There was much glitz and glitter and make-up and jewellery in evidence - very much 'a la Paris', which is where Sophie, the proprietor of the shop, comes from - and a top buffet and wines on offer too.
Debrah had introduced herself to Sophie on her recent trip and I think a bond formed based on their joint love of fabulous interior design, furniture, paint, fabric et al. Late last week I ordered the paint from there for Denis' apartment and I shall collect it either tomorrow or Friday.
It was such a shame that Debrah wasn't here this evening, for while I huskily tried to charm Sophie and Nathalie and Penny, the wife of gallery owner, Richard, and many other well-to-do French ladies (one was the wife of the owner of Chateau Villerambert-Julien, a very well respected wine round these parts), I needed Debrah to exude her fabulousness on the mayor and Bernard, an ex-president of the Bank of France, and Richard, the gallery owner who seems to know everyone, and someone very well placed in the Peugeot family. Who would have thought that Carcassonne, and it's environs had such an in-crowd.
They all agreed, very kindly, that what we had done with our apartments was just what the old town needed. Penny, bless her, became an instant on-the-spot ambassador, introducing me to more people than I can remember and showing our cards to everyone.
It was a good day for meeting people because Matthew Stubbs MW, who is opening a wine school at Chateau Gayda, popped into the apartments this afternoon to see them for himself and to talk about how we might work together - and small networking world that it is in a very large region - he knows Juliet and Simon and Louise and John Hegarty, my old boss, and as always a big world is a tiny world.
So it was a bit of a shame that I met some of the great and good of Carcassonne tonight and wasn't really able to express myself - lack of voice and bad French combined. The occasion was the opening of an extension to the interior design shop Inthérieur 13 and the crowd was almost predominantly French and, it appeared, the influential crowd of the town. There was much glitz and glitter and make-up and jewellery in evidence - very much 'a la Paris', which is where Sophie, the proprietor of the shop, comes from - and a top buffet and wines on offer too.
Debrah had introduced herself to Sophie on her recent trip and I think a bond formed based on their joint love of fabulous interior design, furniture, paint, fabric et al. Late last week I ordered the paint from there for Denis' apartment and I shall collect it either tomorrow or Friday.
It was such a shame that Debrah wasn't here this evening, for while I huskily tried to charm Sophie and Nathalie and Penny, the wife of gallery owner, Richard, and many other well-to-do French ladies (one was the wife of the owner of Chateau Villerambert-Julien, a very well respected wine round these parts), I needed Debrah to exude her fabulousness on the mayor and Bernard, an ex-president of the Bank of France, and Richard, the gallery owner who seems to know everyone, and someone very well placed in the Peugeot family. Who would have thought that Carcassonne, and it's environs had such an in-crowd.
They all agreed, very kindly, that what we had done with our apartments was just what the old town needed. Penny, bless her, became an instant on-the-spot ambassador, introducing me to more people than I can remember and showing our cards to everyone.
It was a good day for meeting people because Matthew Stubbs MW, who is opening a wine school at Chateau Gayda, popped into the apartments this afternoon to see them for himself and to talk about how we might work together - and small networking world that it is in a very large region - he knows Juliet and Simon and Louise and John Hegarty, my old boss, and as always a big world is a tiny world.
Monday, 9 June 2008
Catching Up
Since I last put finger to keyboard I have been hijacked by the Irish, distracted by the football, amused by vegetables and looking after my guests - oh, and so depressed by the weather that I have found it hard to get motivated.
My Irish guests arrived on Thursday evening and after settling them in, I sent them off to eat and went out to meet Patrick for a drink at the Makhila. We were close to calling it a night when my guests, Tom and Niamh (pronounced Neve - I'll never get the hang of Gaelic) turned up. Well, it appears that because everyone in Ireland knows everyone else who's ever been to Ireland or is a distant relation to someone that left the Emerald Isle two centuries ago, that Patrick's neighbour in Chicago is Niamh's (pronounced Neve's don't forget) best friend who spent a year and a half travelling round the world together. So naturally we were all best mates and practically related which meant that we had to try and drink the bar dry for some reason. Being an innocent (sic) bystander in all this, I introduced them into the joys of pastis and several locals tried to introduce Niamh into, well, themselves actually and Tom said "Aw, she's havin a grand time" even when she was looking a bit scared of the various moustaches circling her. I finally managed to exert some influence by persuading everyone not to go to the nightclub (good thing Chris wasn't with us!) and we made it home.
As a result, Friday wasn't as productive as it might have been - but breakfast was made and the Apartment was prepped for Saturday's guests and the paint was ordered for the renovation upstairs.
It rained all day on Friday, with some particularly nasty downpours from time to time and Saturday wasn't much better and Sunday was at least dry if dull and overcast and cold - I actually got my fleece out again! Frankly, we have all had enough of this most unseasonal weather. Apparently, there was record rainfall in May and today we had cloud, and then a lovely sunny afternoon and then another monstrous thunderstorm this evening - just when the locals were settling into watching France at Euro 2008 on the big screen erected for the occasion.
Despite no British presence at Euro 2008, I have, of course, watched every bit that I've been able to see, working around canapes on Saturday and dinner on Sunday for my new guests. I have been enormously underwhelmed so far, but as a true fan there is no limit to my perseverance - so having sat through another numbingly boring game (France v Romania) - I finally got the match I had been waiting for when the World Champions, Italy, took on the Masters of Total Football, the Dutch, this evening. The result will see many large spliffs being lit and lots of crying into camparis in Milan and Rome - rarely have the Italians been so beautifully humiliated - what joy. Inevitably, the Dutch will play like the Masters of Schoolboy Football next time they play, but then that's the fun of it all - peaked way too early in my opinion.
Vegetables, you ask. What about the vegetables? Well despite the well known benefits of eating duck, foie gras and cassoulet until you burst and drinking as much red wine as possible, it appears that the French Department of Health wants us all to eat more fruit and vegetables! As a result, there was a display and a promotion of their health benefits, in the square, on Sunday - with a band to jolly everyone along. It was a typically avant garde French display with fruit on sticks and a vegetable scarecrow and strawberry trees and produce piled all over the fountain in a fabulously decorous way - and everyone was drinking wine to celebrate the occasion before the inevitable 'free-for-all' at the end when everyone tried to grab as much produce as they could. Hmmm - not sure they got the message across to those that need converting.
One last carrot and apple juice and I'm off to bed
My Irish guests arrived on Thursday evening and after settling them in, I sent them off to eat and went out to meet Patrick for a drink at the Makhila. We were close to calling it a night when my guests, Tom and Niamh (pronounced Neve - I'll never get the hang of Gaelic) turned up. Well, it appears that because everyone in Ireland knows everyone else who's ever been to Ireland or is a distant relation to someone that left the Emerald Isle two centuries ago, that Patrick's neighbour in Chicago is Niamh's (pronounced Neve's don't forget) best friend who spent a year and a half travelling round the world together. So naturally we were all best mates and practically related which meant that we had to try and drink the bar dry for some reason. Being an innocent (sic) bystander in all this, I introduced them into the joys of pastis and several locals tried to introduce Niamh into, well, themselves actually and Tom said "Aw, she's havin a grand time" even when she was looking a bit scared of the various moustaches circling her. I finally managed to exert some influence by persuading everyone not to go to the nightclub (good thing Chris wasn't with us!) and we made it home.
As a result, Friday wasn't as productive as it might have been - but breakfast was made and the Apartment was prepped for Saturday's guests and the paint was ordered for the renovation upstairs.
It rained all day on Friday, with some particularly nasty downpours from time to time and Saturday wasn't much better and Sunday was at least dry if dull and overcast and cold - I actually got my fleece out again! Frankly, we have all had enough of this most unseasonal weather. Apparently, there was record rainfall in May and today we had cloud, and then a lovely sunny afternoon and then another monstrous thunderstorm this evening - just when the locals were settling into watching France at Euro 2008 on the big screen erected for the occasion.
Despite no British presence at Euro 2008, I have, of course, watched every bit that I've been able to see, working around canapes on Saturday and dinner on Sunday for my new guests. I have been enormously underwhelmed so far, but as a true fan there is no limit to my perseverance - so having sat through another numbingly boring game (France v Romania) - I finally got the match I had been waiting for when the World Champions, Italy, took on the Masters of Total Football, the Dutch, this evening. The result will see many large spliffs being lit and lots of crying into camparis in Milan and Rome - rarely have the Italians been so beautifully humiliated - what joy. Inevitably, the Dutch will play like the Masters of Schoolboy Football next time they play, but then that's the fun of it all - peaked way too early in my opinion.
Vegetables, you ask. What about the vegetables? Well despite the well known benefits of eating duck, foie gras and cassoulet until you burst and drinking as much red wine as possible, it appears that the French Department of Health wants us all to eat more fruit and vegetables! As a result, there was a display and a promotion of their health benefits, in the square, on Sunday - with a band to jolly everyone along. It was a typically avant garde French display with fruit on sticks and a vegetable scarecrow and strawberry trees and produce piled all over the fountain in a fabulously decorous way - and everyone was drinking wine to celebrate the occasion before the inevitable 'free-for-all' at the end when everyone tried to grab as much produce as they could. Hmmm - not sure they got the message across to those that need converting.
One last carrot and apple juice and I'm off to bed
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
Vocal vignerons
Today it was the turn of the winemakers and the farmers to have a protest. This afternoon half of Carcassonne was restricted by road closures and parking restrictions, there were police on every street corner and there was a mass demonstration that brought the town to a halt for an hour or so. Songs of solidarity were sung, speeches were made, fire-crackers were set off and some idiot set fire to a waste bin - there is always at least one isn't there? - which could have been just the excuse the gendarmes were looking for to wade in with their batons.
Fortunately, the crowd was very good natured and, the little bit that I saw of it, passed off without trouble. I guess the police were right to be prepared though - I have heard stories of dynamite thrown at Government offices and pitched street battles in the past. The Prefecture and other official buildings weren't taking any chances today and they all closed at lunchtime just in case they came under attack.
I tried to work out from the newspaper what their complaints were and even with the help of my English/French dictionary I'm still not fully clear. They want a reduction in the local tax they pay - the taxe fonciere - but I'm not sure on what basis or why they should be a special case, they want some guaranteed payment up front of 15% of something and finally they are all moaning about the price of fuel, which isn't at all original as everyone in the world is moaning about the price of fuel. As long as they keep making wine, everything will be alright.
As a result of the demo, we Bastide dwellers were confined to town for a couple of hours because all the roads were closed and Chris and I had to wait until early evening before we could make our weekly trip to the industrial zones for materials and tools and the hunt from shop to store for someone who had some goods actually in stock. Remarkably, we got everything we were looking for and only had to visit two stores.
Back at 42rvh it's quite quiet this week - which is good after a couple of manic weeks - although I must admit that I quite enjoy the full-on nature of guests and changeovers and am feeling a little lost with time on my hands. I'm also feeling a bit lost and lonely because Debrah went back to London yesterday.
I should enjoy the calm whilst I can because from the middle of next week we are pretty much fully booked until the end of the month, which is fantastic and amazing. I had a call yesterday from a Brit in Uganda who wants to come here in July for his wedding anniversary because he was so impressed with our reviews on tripadvisor and then the photographs on our website. I still can't quite believe how well it has gone so far.
Meanwhile, there is a big test of my new found dedication to the service industry looming on the horizon - it's called Euro 2008. I will, as always, be desperate to watch every game - which means I am seriously considering cooking lunches instead of dinners and stealing back the big telly from the Studio.
And in the absence of the overpaid and badly coached England team, the eternally unlucky Scots and Irish and the plain useless Welsh, I will have to pin my colours to someone else's mast. It should be a straightforward case of "Allez les Bleus", but this is border territory and I might just be shouting "Viva Espana" instead. All of which, inevitably means the Germans will probably win. I shall enjoy finding out anyway - guests permitting, of course.
Fortunately, the crowd was very good natured and, the little bit that I saw of it, passed off without trouble. I guess the police were right to be prepared though - I have heard stories of dynamite thrown at Government offices and pitched street battles in the past. The Prefecture and other official buildings weren't taking any chances today and they all closed at lunchtime just in case they came under attack.
I tried to work out from the newspaper what their complaints were and even with the help of my English/French dictionary I'm still not fully clear. They want a reduction in the local tax they pay - the taxe fonciere - but I'm not sure on what basis or why they should be a special case, they want some guaranteed payment up front of 15% of something and finally they are all moaning about the price of fuel, which isn't at all original as everyone in the world is moaning about the price of fuel. As long as they keep making wine, everything will be alright.
As a result of the demo, we Bastide dwellers were confined to town for a couple of hours because all the roads were closed and Chris and I had to wait until early evening before we could make our weekly trip to the industrial zones for materials and tools and the hunt from shop to store for someone who had some goods actually in stock. Remarkably, we got everything we were looking for and only had to visit two stores.
Back at 42rvh it's quite quiet this week - which is good after a couple of manic weeks - although I must admit that I quite enjoy the full-on nature of guests and changeovers and am feeling a little lost with time on my hands. I'm also feeling a bit lost and lonely because Debrah went back to London yesterday.
I should enjoy the calm whilst I can because from the middle of next week we are pretty much fully booked until the end of the month, which is fantastic and amazing. I had a call yesterday from a Brit in Uganda who wants to come here in July for his wedding anniversary because he was so impressed with our reviews on tripadvisor and then the photographs on our website. I still can't quite believe how well it has gone so far.
Meanwhile, there is a big test of my new found dedication to the service industry looming on the horizon - it's called Euro 2008. I will, as always, be desperate to watch every game - which means I am seriously considering cooking lunches instead of dinners and stealing back the big telly from the Studio.
And in the absence of the overpaid and badly coached England team, the eternally unlucky Scots and Irish and the plain useless Welsh, I will have to pin my colours to someone else's mast. It should be a straightforward case of "Allez les Bleus", but this is border territory and I might just be shouting "Viva Espana" instead. All of which, inevitably means the Germans will probably win. I shall enjoy finding out anyway - guests permitting, of course.
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Culture Clash
There was a strike by airport staff at Carcassonne airport last week. It co-incided with guests arriving by train and by car and so I was blissfully unaware of it until the whole thing was over - fortuitous in the short term but potentially disastrous in the long term.
Ryanair have taken a very dim view of the strike and have lodged an official complaint with the CGT, the local transport union, claiming that the strike was illegal. The CGT, being very French, defends their members right to strike at the drop of a hat. Ryanair, being a very aggressive European, rather than French, business has threatened to pull all flights out of Carcassonne and transfer them to Beziers and Perpignan. A difference of opinion, no doubt, but one with potentially huge ramifications for businesses like mine and for the region in general.
If Ryanair pulled out it would ruin my business overnight. I get plenty of people arriving by car or train but the vast majority are on a short break from the UK and the flights into Carcassonne make those breaks viable.
The problem in this case is cultural. The CGT are used to dealing with Paris and, over the years, French Government has a history of just backing down and acceding to demands in the face of trouble from the Unions. The CGT think they will go on strike and have their demands met with no further consequences.
Unfortunately, having worked as a Finance and Commercial Director for many years in the UK, I know that British and indeed Irish/European businesses, especially one as aggressive as Ryanair, do not think in the same way as a passive French Government. Strikes are an anathema to the business ethic and will not be tolerated. I have no doubt that Ryanair will be true to their word and pull out of Carcassonne if they don't get some stonewall guarantees as to future conduct, or if the CGT are stupid enough to call out their workers again. I fear the worst.
Not only would the CGT workers lose their jobs and Carcassonne airport return to being the home of a flying school and the odd military helicopter, but the whole region would immediately suffer the loss of half a million visitors a year and the income that they bring to all the many and varied businesses.
This is a clash between socialist France and capitalist Europe - between the defenders of the rights of the workers and shareholder profit, and by default, entrepreneurial spirit. It is such an irony that entrepreneur is a French word and yet the laws of this country so stifle anyone trying to live up to it's meaning.
It is ironic too that we are currently celebrating the 40th anniversary of the 1968 revolution. I have read so may articles from people who were there, who took part, who wanted to change life - and all of them say nothing really changed at all - so much for revolution - when did it ever achieve a lasting difference for the ordinary man and woman (or animal - just read Animal Farm again if you have forgotten).
But 1968 did achieve something in France - stasis. The socialists won the argument then and all of France has been living in their inertia ever since. French socialism has many positive aspects at a local level - equality of opportunity, good schooling and health care to name but a couple - but it has a nation of people content to sit on their fat arses and let the Government pay for them too.
So it racks up debt and nobody can build a business because of crippling social charges and draconian employment laws and as a result, the rights of 30 workers at an airport (who absolutely should be paid a decent salary for the job they do - and I don't think that they are currently getting that) - could completely destroy the last five years growth in this region.
I sincerely hope that common sense descends on all parties, on both sides. In fact, my fingers are crossed, and everything held firmly, in that hope.
Apropos of nothing at all, George W Bush once said that the French don't have a word for 'entreeprenure'. I don't think they have a word for dickhead either, but if I find out they do, I will let him know.
Ryanair have taken a very dim view of the strike and have lodged an official complaint with the CGT, the local transport union, claiming that the strike was illegal. The CGT, being very French, defends their members right to strike at the drop of a hat. Ryanair, being a very aggressive European, rather than French, business has threatened to pull all flights out of Carcassonne and transfer them to Beziers and Perpignan. A difference of opinion, no doubt, but one with potentially huge ramifications for businesses like mine and for the region in general.
If Ryanair pulled out it would ruin my business overnight. I get plenty of people arriving by car or train but the vast majority are on a short break from the UK and the flights into Carcassonne make those breaks viable.
The problem in this case is cultural. The CGT are used to dealing with Paris and, over the years, French Government has a history of just backing down and acceding to demands in the face of trouble from the Unions. The CGT think they will go on strike and have their demands met with no further consequences.
Unfortunately, having worked as a Finance and Commercial Director for many years in the UK, I know that British and indeed Irish/European businesses, especially one as aggressive as Ryanair, do not think in the same way as a passive French Government. Strikes are an anathema to the business ethic and will not be tolerated. I have no doubt that Ryanair will be true to their word and pull out of Carcassonne if they don't get some stonewall guarantees as to future conduct, or if the CGT are stupid enough to call out their workers again. I fear the worst.
Not only would the CGT workers lose their jobs and Carcassonne airport return to being the home of a flying school and the odd military helicopter, but the whole region would immediately suffer the loss of half a million visitors a year and the income that they bring to all the many and varied businesses.
This is a clash between socialist France and capitalist Europe - between the defenders of the rights of the workers and shareholder profit, and by default, entrepreneurial spirit. It is such an irony that entrepreneur is a French word and yet the laws of this country so stifle anyone trying to live up to it's meaning.
It is ironic too that we are currently celebrating the 40th anniversary of the 1968 revolution. I have read so may articles from people who were there, who took part, who wanted to change life - and all of them say nothing really changed at all - so much for revolution - when did it ever achieve a lasting difference for the ordinary man and woman (or animal - just read Animal Farm again if you have forgotten).
But 1968 did achieve something in France - stasis. The socialists won the argument then and all of France has been living in their inertia ever since. French socialism has many positive aspects at a local level - equality of opportunity, good schooling and health care to name but a couple - but it has a nation of people content to sit on their fat arses and let the Government pay for them too.
So it racks up debt and nobody can build a business because of crippling social charges and draconian employment laws and as a result, the rights of 30 workers at an airport (who absolutely should be paid a decent salary for the job they do - and I don't think that they are currently getting that) - could completely destroy the last five years growth in this region.
I sincerely hope that common sense descends on all parties, on both sides. In fact, my fingers are crossed, and everything held firmly, in that hope.
Apropos of nothing at all, George W Bush once said that the French don't have a word for 'entreeprenure'. I don't think they have a word for dickhead either, but if I find out they do, I will let him know.
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