My present number one hero is Didier Angibaud, the vidangeur, more familiarly known in English as the pig slurry man. This is the man who came at short notice to empty the leaking swimming pool and transfer the chlorinated water into the golf course reservoir which...
My present number one hero is Didier Angibaud, the vidangeur, more familiarly known in English as the pig slurry man. This is the man who came at short notice to empty the leaking swimming pool and transfer the chlorinated water into the golf course reservoir which...
Last Thursday, August 9th, the day of Saint Amour, the ants of La Chaise had sex. It is an expression I dislike intensely. It puts love-making, or pro-creation, on the same level as the consumption of an ice-cream cone. In the case of these ants, lasius niger most...
The sun was making one of its many false attempts to get summer going so I sat in my favourite Perigueux cafe with white wine spritzer, pencil and newspaper open at the cross-word. The car was parked under a tree in the official car-park. The earliest of the...
We brought our first female Labrador, Czeta, over from England on the car ferry from Portsmouth. She behaved beautifully except when left alone in the cabin, locked in the shower room for hygiene’s sake. Then she howled and JP was summoned by the steward. As...
Counting sheep has been abandoned as sleep inducement. I have replaced it by self-hypnosis and deep breathing….flat on your back, start by relaxing the toes, go up the leg, etc. etc. This sometimes works. Counting sheep now just reminds me of things I have...
If one has to travel – and travel is supposed to broaden the mind which is universally considered a Good Thing – then by air it is probably best to go from small airport to small airport. Smaller hordes, nicer officials, seem to be the rule. So, on the way to...
Today, Sunday 10th June 2012, I made a decision, a serious one to which I propose solemnly to stick. Oh, dear! Unexploded pun there. The decision is that I will never, ever go mushroom hunting again without a stick. Why? Well, because I found myself three-quarters...
Last Saturday, the day before Mother’s day in France (hint) the air temperature reached at least 31 C at mid-day and the pool temperature – according to the pool duck – was 27 C. So I decide to give myself a pre-Mother’s day treat and go for a swim. This...
It is said that French people are the most hypochondriac of all Europeans. Locally I often see individuals, not necessarily old people, staggering from the pharmacy with at least two plastic bags of medicines. Some say this is due to the over-rich French diet (all... 
