I know I'm British but even I get a bit tired of talking about the weather all the time - but what else is there to discuss at the moment. Having got back to the UK I was inundated with warnings and forecasts and news reports of stormy weather and torrential rain and more snow and flooding, of another storm warning in France, this time in the North, and the horrendous firestorms in Australia.
Being without a television in France it got me wondering as to whether the weather was indeed much more extreme than it ever was or whether it is the multitude of TV and radio channels and news outlets and the dramatic nature of their reporting in this day and age that makes it appear as though it is more extreme than ever as they all try to outdo each other with the impact of their coverage.
In truth, the only story really worth all the dramatic coverage was the terrible loss of life in the state of Victoria in Australia, especially as it appears that some of the fires had been started deliberately - that was both tragic and disgusting in equal measure. If the culprits can be, without doubt, positively identified then maybe a good old fashioned burning at the stake is what they deserve so that they will understand what they did to so many innocent people - but it isn't the solution as we all know, because someone would have to set fire to them and they would have to live with that for the rest of their life and the pain would just continue. It was tragic, nonetheless.
Whereas in Britain - it's winter, where it rains and it snows and it's cold - please stop making out that it's something out of the ordinary and just get on with it.
I had a busy couple of days in the UK - the usual mixture of helping Debrah out with some stuff and doing a few things for myself.
I got the car serviced and sorted out the MOT and managed to knock a couple of hundred quid off the insurance renewal, just by getting other quotes and phoning up the insurance company and asking them what they were going to do about it.
"They are all bastards", said Debrah - I quite agree, but you have to deal with the bastards because it's illegal to drive around without insurance. It's clear they were over-charging us and hoping we would just renew without thinking because .. well, because we couldn't be bothered to ask probably. But I did ask, and without argument they reduced the quote by a third - it's outrageous that they should even deign to ask for the original quote which is why the insurers should be lined up next to the bankers, just behind the arsonists, in line for the stake.
Apart from the problem of the ongoing guilt, my ultimate solution would also see the destruction of all the remaining trees and therefore the environment - so obviously I haven't thought that through very well. It's tricky this whole politics thing isn't it. I don't envy Mr Obama his new position at all but then we've got a one-eyed Scottish idiot in the UK and a hyperactive Hungarian dwarf in France so nothing to shout about over here in Europe either.
On a positive note I did manage to get a very acceptable haircut for the grand sum of £12 which I consider to be very reasonable compared to the cost of the congestion charge in London - the haircut will last me two months and for the same money I could have driven into the centre of London for precisely one and half days. (I know they are two totally uncomparable things but the point is one is much better value than the other - right!)
I also went for an eye test and found to my surprise that I have the eyes of a forty year old. It's a surprise because I will reach my half century later this year, so either someone gave me some new eyes when I was ten years old or my own ones have lasted exceptionally well. It's also a surprise because I have been finding it increasingly difficult to read stuff recently and especially in poor light or that really tiny print that my wife always insists upon using when she designs anything.
So, apparently my eyes are pretty good for an old buffer like me and they still function in unison which means I can get away with over the counter glasses - and my optician told me all this with a smile on his face, without trying to sell me anything and just asked me come back for another test in 18 months or so.
Insurers and bankers could learn a thing or two about that sort of approach - but don't get me started on that again.
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Friday, 7 December 2007
Small town politics
Christmas officially started today in Carcassonne. The lights may have been on for weeks in London, but here in France they are a bit more concerned about their electricity bills, and so the lights were officially turned on this evening and the 'Magie de Noel' commenced.
It was a typical small town civic ceremony - very low key and quite charming really. There was no 'celebrity' on hand to sing a couple of songs and then press the big red button after a long countdown. Instead the mayor, M.Larrat, stood on a platform in front of the hastily constructed, and rapidly melting, ice rink, surrounded by a group of unfortunate school children, no doubt hand-picked for the event. A couple of hundred spectators watched on, huddled under umbrellas to protect themselves from the relentless drizzle. The mayor used the opportunity for a bit of canvassing ahead of the forthcoming elections, explaining how successful the Christmas event had become and, therefore, by association, his time in office.
Actually I think he has done a very good job in promoting the bastide town (not just the Cite), starting initiatives aimed at bringing in more visitors, ploughing money back into the infrastructure, renovation of old buildings and promotion of the area in general - all things that can only help my own business efforts here. I was told that three years ago there were no Christmas activities at all and everyone used to go off to Toulouse or Narbonne - now we have the ice rink and the market and the big wheel and the luge to name just a few of the things going on. Whether he has done as a good a job on housing, health and education I can't say. As a non-resident, I can't vote in the forthcoming election, but I hope M.Larrat gets to have another term in office.
When the mayor had finished his speech there was the usual embarrasing moment when he asked a question of one the poor cold children stood around him. The microphone was lowered to the young girl who was either so scared that she couldn't speak or just spoke so quietly in her shyness that no-one could hear what she said - bless - so the mayor repeated it and answered his own question, which I think was something like shall we turn the lights on now. Yes - get on with it - we are all getting wet.
The music from '2001 A Space Oddysey' started up and, at the end of the first bar, Neptune's arse (that was view from where I was standing) was illuminated in vibrant fuschia pink and at the end of the second bar the trees in the square lit up in alternate colours of blue and white. The 'crowd' broke out into a spontaneous ripple of applause, a few camera phones flashed in the night and then everyone went to find some shelter, or in my case, some dinner.
I had agreed to meet Patrick for some supper. A couple of weeks ago he had told me in the strictest confidence (he said that I was the only person he had told) that he had put in a bid to take over the Irish bar after it was shut down by the tax authorities on account of Michel, the previous owner, not paying over the tax for his staff. He was supposed to hear whether his bid had been successful in mid-November, then at the end of the last month and then definitely finally on Wednesday this week. So it was that he was informed this morning, Friday, that the bar was his. Hurrah. It will be a novelty for Carcassonne to have an Irish bar run by an Irishman.
Now I know that the only person that I have told about this was Debrah and she ain't spoken to nobody here. Patrick said this evening that for the past two weeks, every time he walked into a bar somebody would ask him whether he had heard yet - heard what? It appears that everyone in the town knew the circumstances of Michel's demise, the contenders in the bidding process and the likely outcome - no doubt someone set up a book and someone has made some money. This town is obviously smaller than I thought - whether everyone knows someone in the 'Mairie' or the licensing department or knows Patrick's lawyer or his accountant - basically, everyone knew what was going on.
It remains to be seen how everyone will react to a 'stranger' taking over a business in the centre of town. It also makes me a little bit wary of my own situation here. It's a delicate balance - being friendly with the locals, being accepted in the town, not pissing them off or turning them against you.
My Australian friend, Lesa, has been here ten years and is married to a Frenchman. She knows all the main players in the town but says she is still an outsider - they would all shut the door in her face without hesitation.
Sometimes I miss the anonymity of London - but not often. We shall see what happens when my guests start arriving. I have often wondered if some neighbourhood objection might suddenly appear - but then I am probably just being a paranoid Englishman in a foreign land.
It was a typical small town civic ceremony - very low key and quite charming really. There was no 'celebrity' on hand to sing a couple of songs and then press the big red button after a long countdown. Instead the mayor, M.Larrat, stood on a platform in front of the hastily constructed, and rapidly melting, ice rink, surrounded by a group of unfortunate school children, no doubt hand-picked for the event. A couple of hundred spectators watched on, huddled under umbrellas to protect themselves from the relentless drizzle. The mayor used the opportunity for a bit of canvassing ahead of the forthcoming elections, explaining how successful the Christmas event had become and, therefore, by association, his time in office.
Actually I think he has done a very good job in promoting the bastide town (not just the Cite), starting initiatives aimed at bringing in more visitors, ploughing money back into the infrastructure, renovation of old buildings and promotion of the area in general - all things that can only help my own business efforts here. I was told that three years ago there were no Christmas activities at all and everyone used to go off to Toulouse or Narbonne - now we have the ice rink and the market and the big wheel and the luge to name just a few of the things going on. Whether he has done as a good a job on housing, health and education I can't say. As a non-resident, I can't vote in the forthcoming election, but I hope M.Larrat gets to have another term in office.
When the mayor had finished his speech there was the usual embarrasing moment when he asked a question of one the poor cold children stood around him. The microphone was lowered to the young girl who was either so scared that she couldn't speak or just spoke so quietly in her shyness that no-one could hear what she said - bless - so the mayor repeated it and answered his own question, which I think was something like shall we turn the lights on now. Yes - get on with it - we are all getting wet.
The music from '2001 A Space Oddysey' started up and, at the end of the first bar, Neptune's arse (that was view from where I was standing) was illuminated in vibrant fuschia pink and at the end of the second bar the trees in the square lit up in alternate colours of blue and white. The 'crowd' broke out into a spontaneous ripple of applause, a few camera phones flashed in the night and then everyone went to find some shelter, or in my case, some dinner.
I had agreed to meet Patrick for some supper. A couple of weeks ago he had told me in the strictest confidence (he said that I was the only person he had told) that he had put in a bid to take over the Irish bar after it was shut down by the tax authorities on account of Michel, the previous owner, not paying over the tax for his staff. He was supposed to hear whether his bid had been successful in mid-November, then at the end of the last month and then definitely finally on Wednesday this week. So it was that he was informed this morning, Friday, that the bar was his. Hurrah. It will be a novelty for Carcassonne to have an Irish bar run by an Irishman.
Now I know that the only person that I have told about this was Debrah and she ain't spoken to nobody here. Patrick said this evening that for the past two weeks, every time he walked into a bar somebody would ask him whether he had heard yet - heard what? It appears that everyone in the town knew the circumstances of Michel's demise, the contenders in the bidding process and the likely outcome - no doubt someone set up a book and someone has made some money. This town is obviously smaller than I thought - whether everyone knows someone in the 'Mairie' or the licensing department or knows Patrick's lawyer or his accountant - basically, everyone knew what was going on.
It remains to be seen how everyone will react to a 'stranger' taking over a business in the centre of town. It also makes me a little bit wary of my own situation here. It's a delicate balance - being friendly with the locals, being accepted in the town, not pissing them off or turning them against you.
My Australian friend, Lesa, has been here ten years and is married to a Frenchman. She knows all the main players in the town but says she is still an outsider - they would all shut the door in her face without hesitation.
Sometimes I miss the anonymity of London - but not often. We shall see what happens when my guests start arriving. I have often wondered if some neighbourhood objection might suddenly appear - but then I am probably just being a paranoid Englishman in a foreign land.
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