Gone
Grandad August 28th, 2008
The staff have been laid off.
A note has been left out for the milkman.
The hounds have been unleashed.
I’m gone.
God help France.
Archive for August, 2008
Going through the motions
Grandad August 27th, 2008
I received a permit yesterday.
I am now cordially invited to connect my drains to the main sewer.
Up to the mid sixties, we did things the rural way here. In the event that we were caught short, we nipped out behind the bushes and that was that. The fact that we had no bushes, hedges or trees at that time didn’t matter a damn, and in fact led to a lot more intimacy with our neighbours.
In the mid sixties, we decided to modernise and go all posh. We built a septic tank. We slightly over engineered it and built one that was capable of feeding a small housing estate, though why anyone would want to feed from a septic tank is beyond me.
That tank has worked beautifully for the last forty five years. It has sat silently doing its business with our business and has never caused us any grief.
In a fit of insanity, I applied to the council to connect our drain to the main sewer that runs along two of our boundaries. I don’t know why I did that. I was testing our latest crop at the time which may explain it. I think it was really just a case of going through the motions.
I read the permit carefully.
First of all, they want me to connect at the most awkward spot. In typical council fashion they have ignored the fact that my tank is beside the main sewer, and want me to connect to the secondary sewer at the other end of the property. This would not only involve a massive trench, but would play havoc with my main crop.
The second thing I noticed is that they want me to hire an engineer to check levels, and then hire a contractor to do the entire job. I pay. That would cost an arm and a leg.
Finally, once I have remortgaged myself to pay for all of this, they want me to pay them €250 for the privilege of connecting to the pipe, even though I have to make the actual connection.
So much for the council wanting to go eco-friendly and get us all away from septic tanks.
I’m sticking with my tank.
The council can go shite.
Parlez vous Franglais?
Grandad August 26th, 2008
There are so many niggling arrangements that have to be made before heading over to the Continent.
One problem at least has been solved with the introduction of the Euro. Now I know when I am being ripped off because I know what I should be paying.
There are still messy things though that have to be arranged.
They say that a passport is handy. That is no problem because I have dozens.
I have to have a red warning triangle for the car. Again, that’s no problem. I still have the old one that is held together with Sellotape from twenty six years ago when I first went.
A new requirement is that I have a DayGlo jacket. I have one of those that I use when I’m pretending to be a speed trap. Great fun.
At some stage I’m supposed to fit Beam Benders to the car. These are the yokes that change my dipped headlights so they dip to the right instead of the left. I don’t know if I’ll bother with that, as the lights don’t work anyway.
Yesterday I realised I had forgotten two items.
The first was my car insurance. That was no problem. I just rang the insurance company and I have to collect the extended certificate today.
The second was a little more problematic. I had to phone the place where we are going to stay.
I phoned them.
At this point, I must explain that I can speak French quite well. I can read it too. My only problem is that I can’t understand it when someone else is speaking.
When the woman answered the phone, I explained who I was and that I would be arriving at some stage on Saturday, and could she have the key ready. So far, so good.
She then made a long speech and I didn’t understand a word of it.
I chickened at that stage and explained that my French was crap, and asked if she could speak English.
She replied [I think] that my French was excellent, and she wasn’t falling for that one.
We had a long and pleasant conversation that lasted for about half an hour. I joked with her and she laughed a lot. She said a lot of things in reply, and I haven’t a fucking clue what she said.
The upshot of the call was that everything is arranged. She is going to have everything ready for us and will be there to meet us on Saturday.
I also have a funny feeling that I have agreed to marry her daughter on Wednesday week.
This could be an interesting holiday.
Head Rambles Away
Grandad August 25th, 2008
A very very long time ago, deep in the mists of time [actually, it was last February], I got the mad notion of searching the Interweb for wee cottages to rent in France.
The weather was awful at the time, cold wet and windy [much like it is these days] and we had a strong urge to enjoy a drop of sunshine.
The finances are a bit tight, with the pension and all, so we had to think long and hard before coming to a decision. Five minutes later, I started looking in earnest.
We found a nice little place and I booked it.
I also booked hotels en route and the ferry. It’s amazing what you can do on the Interweb.
We didn’t want to go in the height of the season, as everywhere tends to be overrun with loud little brats, all running around and getting under our feet. Their children are worse.
So we had a choice of May or September. We decided on September purely because we wanted the anticipation, not the memory.
The problem with booking a holiday in February is that you tend to forget about it. I never really gave it a second though for the last few months. But now I suddenly realise that we are due to travel this week.
This is fine by me. I need a holiday. You need a holiday. You have been reading this site for too long, and I have been writing it too long.
But what are you going to do in my absence?
Do I care?
Kicking ass in Palm Springs
Grandad August 23rd, 2008
I seem to have developed an ambassador in America.
That is only right, I suppose, as my empire seems to be spreading.
RhodesTer in Palm Springs has awarded me the Kick Ass Blogger Award, as a bribe to obtain the post.
I have nothing against bribes provided
- I don’t have to do the bribing
- Politicians or elected officials aren’t involved.
I think it would have been more appropriate if he had sent it to Kirk M , Maxi Cane or Manuel though [note the 'M' theme?].
RhodesTer has even offered to accommodate me in his hotel, presumably on a lifetime basis.
Now this is quite a nice offer. I could sell up the Manor here, and move to Palm Springs and live a life of luxury in his hotel for the rest of my days. I don’t know much about his hotel except that it has a pool and there is a spot of crime in the area.
I decided to do some research into Palm Springs. The first thing that surprised me is that I thought it was in Florida. Apparently they have moved it though, to California. I suppose they wanted to get away from the hurricanes, which is fair enough. Another thing I discovered is that they have 354 days of sunshine. This sounds impressive, but like all statistics, it hides the truth - they have 11 days in the year when it pisses rain all the time. I don’t know if I could stick eleven days of non-stop torrential rain. Another thing that they don’t mention, presumably because they want to hide the fact, is that it is full of Americans. This offer of accommodation isn’t looking quite so attractive after all.
In an effort to try to get people to visit this hell-hole of a place, they are holding a film festival there. I hope it stays sunny for them.
The film director Shane McCabe is there for the festival and apparently has been reading this site [Hi Shane!]. It transpires that he want to buy the rights to all my books and make a film about me.
That’s fine by me.
As long as I don’t have to go to Palm Springs.
Renaming
Grandad August 22nd, 2008
This place is turning into a zoo.
Our K8 has fecked off overseas and I am babysitting.
For once, it’s not the human kind of babysitting, more a case of animals and mechanics.
First of all I have their car taking up half my driveway. That is a bit of an embarrassment as it wouldn’t be my choice of car. Neighbourly impressions are important. So I have jacked it up onto concrete blocks and removed a few body panels. It looks much better now.
Then there is Wouldya. Now what kind of name is that for a dog? I feel daft shouting “Wouldya! Wouldya get that rock outa here!” It’s repetitive. So, as official guardian of this brainless lump of dogmeat, I have renamed him Darth Vader, or Vader for short. I feel much better shouting “Vader! Spit that child out!”
Lastly [but not leastly] there are a couple of guinea pigs.
Guinea pigs and I have never been on intimate terms in the past. I know nothing about them, so it’s a bit of a learning curve. I am beginning to learn which end is which.
They are named Fizz and Biddy which won’t do at all at all. I have renamed them Bubble and Squeak.
They are the noisiest pair of fuckers I have ever met.
How two little blobs of fur can make so much noise is beyond me.
They are in a cage at the other end of the room at the moment. There is a non-stop cacophony of crashes, clicks, squeaks, whistling, whirring and bubbling noises coming from them. Earlier one did a very good impression of a helicopter. They are providing endless amusement for Sandy who doesn’t have a clue what to make of them.
For a while, I contemplated doing some laboratory experiments on them, but I have a confession to make.
I’m growing quite fond of them.
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