Birthday List…

Ionas’ friend has just celebrated her 13th birthday.

For her birthday she wanted a circular flashing disco light. Iona returned sleepy eyed from a sleepover at her friends’ house.

‘Did she get her disco light?’ I asked.

‘No’, Iona replied,’They don’t sell them at Sam Textiles.’

Sam Textiles is the Brittany equivalent of Woolworths.

‘What about the internet?’ I ask.

But no, of course her parents wouldn’t even think to look on the internet. Such a cultural difference… no, maybe it is not cultural. I think it is more a a French rural thing, here the French just DO NOT buy anything online. I’m not sure why this is, fear?,  mistrust?, lack of understanding? But that is the way it is. It is such a shame because this is such a shortage of choice here and internet shopping (as long as it isn’t grocery shopping!!) could open up a HUGE number of possibilities.

Strange holes

There is a mystery in Reminiac. We live in a little hamlet just outside Reminiac and a long straight roads joins our little hamlet to the village.

The road to Reminiac!

All week, Bernard, the commune gardener has been working on this long straight road. He parks his tractor in the middle of the road and with his pick axe clears circles of grass by the roadside. Why?

Strange holes... what are they for?

It is very intriguing. They can’t be for fence posts. I will continue to watch. I could ask Bernard what he is doing but this will in some way will ruin the suspense. I am quite enjoying this little mystery.

La Maison Rose. More insulated than our house

Work progresses at an alarming pace at La Maison Rose. The stud work is now almost finished (Veronique will be pleased !) and Mark has started to insulate the walls and ceilings.

I am sure this little house will be cosier than our house when it is finished !!.. It isn’t feeling too cosy at the moment, minus 4 last week!

La Maison Rose, Reminiac

Happiness is the smell of wood smoke

All of the houses in our little hamlet are heated by wood burning stoves and at the moment the air is thick with wood smoke. I love a wood fire. The heat it generates feels different from central heating.

Our supply of logs is running a bit low so today I am shifting a huge trailor load of logs !!..

Did we really order that many logs?

Too late to change my mind....

Valentines Day – “une loterie d’amour”

No one really knows how Valentines day originally came about or even who St Valentine really was – the Catholic church has three different St Valentines and in ancient Rome the 14th of February was marked as a holiday to honour the god Juno. Custom has it that in France and England Valentines day originally came to be held in mid February because this was the time of year that birds and animals started pairing off and mating. Eventually it became popular to exchange small tokens and love letters and so the day was born.

In France Valentines cards are called cartes d’amities, the first recorded Valentines greeting was supposed to have been sent by the Duke of Orleans, a Frenchman who was held prisoner in the Tower of London after his capture at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. During his imprisonment the young duke is said to have sent poems & love letters to his wife in France.

An old Valentines day custom in France and now officially banned was called the “une loterie d’amour” or “drawing for love”. This entailed single people of all ages entering houses that faced opposite each other and calling out through the windows till eventually they paired off with each other. The male suitor if not particularly attracted to his partner would leave her and the women left single would build a large bonfire and ceremoniously burn images of the men that had deserted them whilst simultaneously hurling abuse and curses at the ungrateful men. Though this was probably very therapeutic for the rejected women inevitably it was a practice that soon became out of hand and was eventually banned by the French government.

France has a Valentine Day event nobody else can claim which is a lot more positive than “une loterie d’amour“.  There’s a little village called St. Valentin, in Indre, in the central Val de Loire Region which makes the most of the February event, celebrating with an annual festival taking place from February 12th to 14th. There are many events and ceremonies dedicated to Valentines day including marriage vow renewals.

Today St. Valentine’s Day is celebrated throughout France — a good excuse for some indulgent chocolate and gift buying and a grande bouffe of a meal.

La Maison Rose - nearly a wall

Work progresses at La Maison Rose in spite of the wintery weather.

The house shudders every time the nail gun explodes a nail into the studwork. The house continually shudders as Mark fixes the studs at an alarming pace. Added to this I have arrived today with the electric sander to see if we can reclaim the wooden first floor. The house radiates noise.

I feel so sorry for Veronique, our neighbour. She doesn’t complain. She merely pops her head round the door to check on progress. Mark offers her a tin of shortbread biscuits. She is delighted and returns to her no doubt vibrating house.

La Maison Rose. Soon we will have walls!

I was promised a traditional French meal.

Today I was invited to Veroniques’ house for lunch. In this part of Brittany this rare. To be invited to someones’ house for lunch on a week day, however informal is almost unheard of.

Joe is eating lunch at a friends’ house, Iona is at college, Mark is taking sandwiches today, so I accept.

‘I will cook you something very French.’ Veronique promises.

“Lovely.’

I arrive and a distinct smell greats me from the kitchen. It isn’t a horrible smell. More distinctive. I haven’t smelt it before.

We go into the kitchen. Veronique busies herself with frying pans and motions for me to sit down.

Veronique then divided the contents of the frying pan onto two plates. The smell is now incredibly strong, a strong meaty smell.

‘Mange.’ she orders.

‘What is it?. I ask as I gingerly take a bite.

‘I’ll tell you when you have finished.’ Veronique replies mysteriously.

The texture is OK, but the taste … no. I don’t like it. It is like NOTHING I have tasted before.

What do I do?, eat it really fast whilst it is hot, leave some or politely plod through the lot?

Eventually I managed, somehow, to finish.

‘That was andouillette.’ Veronique very proudly announces.

For ten years I have managed to avoid tasting this very French delicacy of intestine… and I was right to avoid it !!..

Wikipedia states… ‘true andouillette are rarely seen outside France. All have a strong, distinctive odor related to their intestinal origins and components. Although sometimes repellant to the uninitiated, this aspect of andouillette is prized by its devotees…’

I would say this is very very true.

French, Masters of Sexism

During my ten years in France I have come up against  sexism on numerous occasions but it doesn’t seem to be improving.

A couple of years ago, Mark was called by the bank manager, whilst I was waiting at the counter as I wanted to withdraw 100 Euros from our joint account. On another occasion our insurance rep knocked on the door with a cheque in the sum of 36 euros made payable to me, just to me, but he refused to leave the cheque with me and came back when Mark was in.

My latest sexism encounter involves our car. We need brake pads. I call the garage. They ask to speak to my husband. I say that he is not in. They refuse to discuss brake pads with me and ask, very politely that my husband calls when he returns.

I fume all afternoon. Mark finds the whole episode hilarious, calls the garage and arranges for new brake pads to be fitted.

Just how do single women cope in this country?…. And I would love to know the percentage of female directors in France, no I won’t explore that any further.

You may call me Madame

Veronique lives in Reminiac and works in a local peoples’ home. Solene lives two doors away from Veronique and has done for ten years, they are good neighbours but not close friends. They have always been on first name terms and talk to each other in the ‘tu’ form.

Solene works in administration at Rennes hospital which is affiliated to the local old peoples’ home. Due to management changes at the old peoples’ home Solene has been working at the old peoples’ home.

Yesterday Veronique passed Solene in the corridor, ‘Bonjour Solene.’

Solene walked passed, without even acknowledging Veronique.

That evening Solene went to Veroniques house and explained that she is very high up in ‘management’ and therefore at work Veronique should address her as Madame and use the ‘vous’ form of address.

When Veronique recounted this story she was mildly surprised but not hurt or offended. I was speechless. ‘C’est normale Nicole.’ Veronique assured me.

When I was working, (I admit this was a long time ago) we were on first name terms with everyone, regardless of how ‘ high up in management’ they were.

Is this respect to call someone Madame and to use the vous form of address or is it a demonstration of power?

France. The nation of the cheque book

The French love a cheque. Very rarely do the French pay by cash and never, well almost never do they pay by a debit / credit card. In fact I know of only one other family that possess a debit card, and they only use this card to buy petrol.

Bearing in mind the current financial crisis I guess it is a good thing that the French haven’t been lured into the ‘plastic habit’, but it is SO frustrating to be in a supermarket queue and EVERYONE pays by cheque and the cashier has to write all the details on their carte d’identity on the back of the cheque!!.

Yesterday, I had to go to the DIY store in Ploermel to pick up some chicken feed. When I got to the check out there were arguments in full flow at two of the cash desks and in the end both left their merchandise and left the shop. Why?,….On the counter there was a sign saying that this store could only accept cheques from banks in Morbihan. Incredible. Can they do that?…. Even if they can, that sort of policy won’t do much for their turnover.

Customer Service + Technology = Confusion

Today, I can only smile…. in desperation.

There are many many things that the French do far better than the British but two things they can’t get quite right are customer service and technology and combine these two together.. disaster !!

For a couple of years now, L’Eclerc, a major supermarket in Brittany has offered internet shopping. This is how it works :-

1. Submit your order online.

2. Drive to the supermarket.

3. Queue up and wait for your shopping.

It is probably actually quicker to do your shopping yourself !!.

Internet Shopping Collection Point !!

Ten days ago, I received a letter from our mutuelle (we pay a percentage of our income to them and they cover part of our health / pension etc etc… a bit like National Insurance contributions) asking if we would like check our payments, order E111 forms etc online. What a good idea!.. So I filled in our equivalent of the National Insurance Numbers, an email address and confirmed the email address. I pressed submit and expected an automated message advising me that a password and login details would be emailed to me.

No, No… these details would be POSTED to me !!!…Today, I received my login details from Paris !!

Prison is lurking

AAAHHHHH. NOT AT ALL HAPPY.

Today, I received a letter from the EDF. Our electricity meter in La Maison Creme has not been read for over a year and a technician would like come on Friday 8th February between 1.00pm and 6.00pm to read the electricity meter. If the meter is not read on the 8th February I will go to prison.

Friday morning would suit me better so I call the EDF and hold for 18 minutes.. then they can’t find my file on the computer and when eventually they do find it they tell me I am ‘in the wrong department’ !!…

Eventually, I speak to the right person who tells me if I want to change the time it will cost me €29. He then helpfully suggests that the regulations have changed recently and I will not be required to show my carte d’identité so a neighbour could wait instead !!