Grandad is not on holidays
Grandad September 4th, 2009
A few people have noted that I am still blathering away when I am supposed to be on holidays.
Actually I’m not. On holidays, I mean.
Holidays are when you pack your suitcase and head off somewhere to forget about everyday life and to relax for a week or two.
I see myself as living here in France, and am doing all the things I would do back in Ireland. Basically, we have just moved to France for a month, and at the end of the month, we’ll unfortunately move back again.
Living here is great. It is September, but the doors are open and the warm sunshine is beaming in the doors. I might even fire up the barbecue later like what I done yesterday. We have had one real bout of rain [this morning] that lasted for a few hours but that has gone and the forecast is for sunshine and temperatures around the thirty mark for the next ten days, at least. The humidity is very low, and I have forgotten what sweat smells like.
Shopping takes a bit of getting used to. there are very few items in common to the two countries, so you can’t just wander in looking for the familiar old packaging. As a result, shopping can take quite a while until you get used to it. I also still find it a little strange wandering into the local grocery supermarket and finding myself walking between shelves of car batteries, fishing rods and endless racks of wine, when all I am looking for is an Oxo cube. Of course they don’t have Oxo cubes here, and you have to find KUB OR Buillon Culinaire, which is in a yellow box and not a red one.
One of the great pleasures here is the coffee shop. They are everywhere, and of course all have outside seating. Jayzus but the coffee is hard to beat! And at €2 a shot for a large one, I’m getting through the stuff.
The language isn’t much of a problem. I have enough of a grasp of it to tell anyone to fuck off, should I so wish, or to ask very politely for help, should that need arise. One they ascertain that I’m not a Sale Anglais, they bend over backwards to help anyway. They are not particularly fond of the British around these parts and that’s why I have a large Irish sticker on the back of the car.
There are other huge advantages of course. There is no Cunt Cowen slobbering all over the place. The Plank is nowhere in evidence. If Harney set foot on these shores they would probably use her for nuclear target practice. They don’t even have Tubridy on the television here.
All in all, I love it.
We fully intend to do this every year.
Provided this fucking site can pay for it………..
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