Vive la difference
Grandad September 13th, 2011
Do the French have smaller arses?
Their toilet paper seems to be narrower.
Or maybe it’s just my imagination?
Just wondering………
Archive for September, 2011
Reasons
Grandad September 12th, 2011
I’m still not sure why I am writing this damned thing every day.
i suppose you lot think that I have nothing better to do, and me on my holliers and all?
Personally, I think it’s because it’s a challenge. There is also an element of stubbornness. I refuse to let the fucking Interweb connection get the better of me.
I have mentioned this connection before. I really don’t know what’s wrong with it but it is as bad as, if not worse than a dial up connection. I have measured it and apparently I am supposed to be connecting at 1 megathingy, which should be enough but it isn’t. The fucking thing keeps disconnecting and when it is connected, some sites take more than an age to load. It can actually take over ten minutes to load one of my own pages. It connects all right, but then it apparently just sits there doing nothing. I have worn out the poor old Refresh button.
As for having better things to do – just at the moment I haven’t. It is sort of misty outside but it’s set to clear later so I’m just idly passing a minute or two.
Of course another reason why I’m still scribbling – I have to earn a bob or two so that I can start building up my funds for next years holliers.
And you lot thought I was just doing it to entertain you?
Hah!
Apologetic milk
Grandad September 11th, 2011
There are some things the French do exceptionally well.
They maintain their roads to the highest standards.
Everywhere, from the remotest country lane to the heart of a city is as clean and fresh as an entrant in the Tidy Towns Contest. You would be very hard pressed to find the smallest scrap of litter anywhere.
The people [in the region where we are] could not be friendlier if they tried.
Why then are they crap when it comes to the simple act of buying a carton of milk of a Sunday? Not one fucking shop open, and we traveled for miles. I got petrol all right but that was at an unmanned automatic place. Back home in Ireland, just about every shop in the village is open all day Sunday. For fuck’s sake, I can buy milk at any time, night or day, on every single day of the year without traveling more than a few miles. 3AM Christmas morning? No problem. As much milk as I want. Here? No fucking way. Not even on an ordinary Sunday.
The French have a funny thing about milk. If you do manage to get inside a supermarket you will find a whole aisle of the stuff. Dozens of brands, types and flavours, and all of it UHT treated so that it tastes shite. You have to make your way to a cold cabinet [usually at the other end of the shop] to find a very small sample of bog standard fresh milk. There will be about eight or nine bottles of the stuff tucked apologetically at the back of the cabinet as if it’s hoping no one will find it.
Very fucking strange.
Respect
Grandad September 10th, 2011
There is one aspect of this country that never ceases to amaze me.
How is it that even the youngest children seem to be able to speak in a completely foreign language?
I think it’s quite remarkable.
Which or weather
Grandad September 9th, 2011
Today was a Which or Weather Day.
I was pottering around this morning and decided to try the Interweb for a drop of a weather forecast. The Interweb decided it was having a day off. I could see it was there but I couldn’t connect. Would I see about getting it fixed? Would I leave it until later? Did it worry me? Did it, fuck!
We went for a bit of a drive. It was a real scorcher of a day, with ne’er a cloud in the sky and the temperatures reaching levels that would have Irish farmers writing to the papers [They always complain if it's too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry. They just are professional complainers].
We stopped off in a couple of towns and ended up in a wee spot called Vihiers where the local cafe proprietress couldn’t do enough for us because we are Irish. I gather she ain’t too fond of the English. *cough*
We got back latish and the owner of the place here was wandering around. He has been trying to entice us to use the indoor heated pool, and each day he ratchets up the temperature by a couple of degrees until we agree to have a swim. Apparently it’s now at 30C. Heh! Why do I think of lobsters?
Just as he was leaving, I remembered the Interwebby thing and I mentioned it to him. I told him to reboot his Wifi. There may have been a glitch in the translation somewhere as he gave me a funny look. Leastwise he fixed the problem on his own initiative by rebooting the Wifi. Why do I bother?
And the weather tomorrow can basically be summed up in two words.
Fucking sweet.
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