There is an oft quoted theory that the differences between the French and the British can be most plainly seen when they are queuing and especially when they do this together. We British see ourselves as patient and considerate in a queue and view the French as chaotic and rude. The French on the other hand seem to view our adherence to queuing protocols as faintly amusing and somewhat self defeatist.
It is easy to interpret the queues in these ways but I have recently looked at things slightly differently.
In a supermarket for example, the British have an unspoken rule of first come first served. Even when till 2 opens up, those in line at till 1 will shuffle backwards and re-assemble at till 2 in the same order. We've all nipped in every now and then but (and be honest) do you ever turn and look behind you afterwards? No, because you know you've broken protocol and don't need the just and silent admonishment from your fellow shoppers! The upside of British queuing technique is that if everyone follows the rules no-one gets cross or upset and all possible conflict is avoided. The down-side is that if you are late or in a rush you have to stand in line, take your medicine and wait your turn.
The French on the other hand simply don't get cross or upset. If a new till opens up whoever gets there quickest gets served first and those who miss out don't bat an eyelid. This way, if you are in a rush and you cut in, you can get out of the supermarket faster and without feeling you've upset anyone. Those with time don't care and those without push in. The upside is again that no-one gets upset but also late people get served quicker. The downside is that there are always a few irate Britons in the queue!
Thursday 3 July 2014
Saturday 4 August 2012
Veggie Wars!
There's no point, really there isn't, why try to get stuff done, even
important stuff like putting your screaming with exhaustion child to bed when
you have more pertinent things to do like feed Local Service another glass of
wine or entertain the local stone mason (Who proudly declares he built our
leaking roof every time he comes round) and his (admittedly charming) 8 year
old granddaughter for 40 minutes a piece come 7 o'clock on any given evening.
Along with the visitors come a large amount of locally grown, fresh picked fruit and vegetables delivered without expectation of anything in return (Indeed the whole village knows we don't have a veg plot and I sense a little bit of pity for this in the offerings!).
It would be the height of churlishness to complain but we are starting to creak under the weight of the offerings. The other night Local Service turned up with a small crate of Haricot Beans (Yellow variety!) when, not halfway through his congratulatory glass of Rose, Proud Roof Man arrives with a carrier bag of the same (Green Variety!). Much politically correct complimenting and critical eyeballing of each other’s beans ensues over the next two thirds of the rose bottle. Local Service pointed out, next day, that yellow variety are far superior.
In the last 3 days, they have both stepped up their game and we have had a handful of hazelnuts, six courgettes, three cucumbers, two lettuces, a marrow, a red cabbage, another carrier bag of beans and a bucket of tomatoes. In return Competitive wife is going to start stepping up cupcake production to industrial levels.
Along with the visitors come a large amount of locally grown, fresh picked fruit and vegetables delivered without expectation of anything in return (Indeed the whole village knows we don't have a veg plot and I sense a little bit of pity for this in the offerings!).
It would be the height of churlishness to complain but we are starting to creak under the weight of the offerings. The other night Local Service turned up with a small crate of Haricot Beans (Yellow variety!) when, not halfway through his congratulatory glass of Rose, Proud Roof Man arrives with a carrier bag of the same (Green Variety!). Much politically correct complimenting and critical eyeballing of each other’s beans ensues over the next two thirds of the rose bottle. Local Service pointed out, next day, that yellow variety are far superior.
In the last 3 days, they have both stepped up their game and we have had a handful of hazelnuts, six courgettes, three cucumbers, two lettuces, a marrow, a red cabbage, another carrier bag of beans and a bucket of tomatoes. In return Competitive wife is going to start stepping up cupcake production to industrial levels.
Wednesday 20 June 2012
BZZZZzzzzzzz
It's be a while since I updated this blog, a lot has happened and that's
mainly why I haven't! I'll try to catch up over the next few days and
weeks and so fill you in on the various things that have been going on.
Just a recently a swarm of bees decided to take up residence in our garden, they were quite a sight as they form a house sized cloud above our roof buzzing like an armada of mopeds.
They settled in the corner of the garden wall (or the back of Retired Farmers house) about 20 feet up and we thought it a good idea to go and tell him. In an uncharacteristic flurry of activity he came straight around and insisted that we all went to his house for our safety! Competitive wife was expecting a visit from a hairdresser so he said it would be fine for her to stay indoors but I and Terrible two's girl really should come over to his and share a bottle of Rose (This is French Health and Safety practice in action) (Terrible two's girl did not share the Rose!).
Reluctantly I went and spent a lovely afternoon in next doors garden at the end of which Retired Farmer promised to be back at 8 that evening (When the bees had gone to bed!) to seal up the entrance as, in his opinion, they were not accessible for the local honey producer to come and collect them.
8pm came and went and we assumed that he had forgotten but a mere 2 hours later he turned up with his mate (one of the many non descript Frenchmen of a certain age who inhabit the village and have a repeating name, Jo-Jo, Ho-Ho, Fon-Fon, Lu-Lu etc, etc [that's not one]). Clearly they had spent the evening up to that point drinking as Retired farmer staggered in with a ladder and his mate just attempted to push, kick, poke or barrack him at every opportunity. Armed with paper and mastic he then set about closing up the entrance of the hive and by way of celebration insisted that I join them in his cellar for a bottle of wine.
3 hours later and 30 minutes after his mate had gone home we emerged from his cellar into utter darkness (The village lights were off) whereupon he looked at me and asked who I was! Laughingly I tried to respond by shining the light from my phone on my face whereupon he fell flat on his arse. Once I'd located him I helped him to his door where he once again asked me who I was and why did I have a bottle of his Vin d'Epine (which he'd given me an hour earlier as a gift) under my arm. I replied as best I could and went home.
The next day the bees were free again and that evening Retired Farmer turned up with his son and a can of expanding foam! I'm no bee expert but I didn't rate the chances of this plan working all that highly and funnily enough the next day the bees were free once more. On the 3rd evening he turned up with a local builder and a pot full of plaster!
At the time of writing the bees are yet again free.
Just a recently a swarm of bees decided to take up residence in our garden, they were quite a sight as they form a house sized cloud above our roof buzzing like an armada of mopeds.
They settled in the corner of the garden wall (or the back of Retired Farmers house) about 20 feet up and we thought it a good idea to go and tell him. In an uncharacteristic flurry of activity he came straight around and insisted that we all went to his house for our safety! Competitive wife was expecting a visit from a hairdresser so he said it would be fine for her to stay indoors but I and Terrible two's girl really should come over to his and share a bottle of Rose (This is French Health and Safety practice in action) (Terrible two's girl did not share the Rose!).
Reluctantly I went and spent a lovely afternoon in next doors garden at the end of which Retired Farmer promised to be back at 8 that evening (When the bees had gone to bed!) to seal up the entrance as, in his opinion, they were not accessible for the local honey producer to come and collect them.
8pm came and went and we assumed that he had forgotten but a mere 2 hours later he turned up with his mate (one of the many non descript Frenchmen of a certain age who inhabit the village and have a repeating name, Jo-Jo, Ho-Ho, Fon-Fon, Lu-Lu etc, etc [that's not one]). Clearly they had spent the evening up to that point drinking as Retired farmer staggered in with a ladder and his mate just attempted to push, kick, poke or barrack him at every opportunity. Armed with paper and mastic he then set about closing up the entrance of the hive and by way of celebration insisted that I join them in his cellar for a bottle of wine.
3 hours later and 30 minutes after his mate had gone home we emerged from his cellar into utter darkness (The village lights were off) whereupon he looked at me and asked who I was! Laughingly I tried to respond by shining the light from my phone on my face whereupon he fell flat on his arse. Once I'd located him I helped him to his door where he once again asked me who I was and why did I have a bottle of his Vin d'Epine (which he'd given me an hour earlier as a gift) under my arm. I replied as best I could and went home.
The next day the bees were free again and that evening Retired Farmer turned up with his son and a can of expanding foam! I'm no bee expert but I didn't rate the chances of this plan working all that highly and funnily enough the next day the bees were free once more. On the 3rd evening he turned up with a local builder and a pot full of plaster!
At the time of writing the bees are yet again free.
Monday 21 May 2012
Getting stuck in.
One of our main concerns before we moved was to ensure that we joined in
with the local community and integrated with the French speaking part of
it. We needn't have worried, the French speaking community have almost
insisted on welcoming us and getting us integrate with village affairs.
Competitive Wife has already been roped into a variety of local events and meetings, in two weeks she has sat on the committee for opening a new community library, helped make the local goats cheese tarts called "Torteaux" and baked them in the community oven and at time of writing is at her French class in the local town followed by lunch with the French class at a Creperie called "Le Marmite" (I think it's a big cooking pot roughly the same shape as the jars of savoury spread, must be a connection there). Last week she also went (with a friend who visited from the UK) to a soiree Tartines, which we came to realise can only be described as a toast topping festival! I’m working on her to write an account of "soiree Tartines" for my blog but true to her name she won't let me have it unless it's better written than my entries! (Not altogether difficult one would have thought).
For my own part I'm getting into French society through the medium of DIY and vegetables. We have started receiving vegetables from a variety of sources, in exchange for anything from furniture to cup cakes. Green garlic are particularly plentiful at the moment, we've received about 30 of them so far and are running out of things to put them in. Along with those, in the last week, we have had 4 lettuces and a bag full of what Local service calls spinach but which looks alarmingly like doc leaves, nice in an omelette though. On the DIY front I'm pushing the limits of what I can do on a daily basis, I've replaced windows with cut glass and putty, wired the barn with lights and set up/aligned a satellite dish all for the first time ever. The window and TV work fine so 2 out of 3 isn't too bad. I'm afraid I'll have to call 40 cat man to help with the electrics but he will then need to have a drink with me afterwards and he does smell of cat wee and doesn't say anything while he's having his drink leaving me floundering around to make conversation in basic French!
Well, onwards and upwards and let there be light next time I write.
Competitive Wife has already been roped into a variety of local events and meetings, in two weeks she has sat on the committee for opening a new community library, helped make the local goats cheese tarts called "Torteaux" and baked them in the community oven and at time of writing is at her French class in the local town followed by lunch with the French class at a Creperie called "Le Marmite" (I think it's a big cooking pot roughly the same shape as the jars of savoury spread, must be a connection there). Last week she also went (with a friend who visited from the UK) to a soiree Tartines, which we came to realise can only be described as a toast topping festival! I’m working on her to write an account of "soiree Tartines" for my blog but true to her name she won't let me have it unless it's better written than my entries! (Not altogether difficult one would have thought).
For my own part I'm getting into French society through the medium of DIY and vegetables. We have started receiving vegetables from a variety of sources, in exchange for anything from furniture to cup cakes. Green garlic are particularly plentiful at the moment, we've received about 30 of them so far and are running out of things to put them in. Along with those, in the last week, we have had 4 lettuces and a bag full of what Local service calls spinach but which looks alarmingly like doc leaves, nice in an omelette though. On the DIY front I'm pushing the limits of what I can do on a daily basis, I've replaced windows with cut glass and putty, wired the barn with lights and set up/aligned a satellite dish all for the first time ever. The window and TV work fine so 2 out of 3 isn't too bad. I'm afraid I'll have to call 40 cat man to help with the electrics but he will then need to have a drink with me afterwards and he does smell of cat wee and doesn't say anything while he's having his drink leaving me floundering around to make conversation in basic French!
Well, onwards and upwards and let there be light next time I write.
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