Piprob

Anyone posting since furryknickers ate her best friend has left me behind. Come back Freddie Star, my hampster has forgiven you.

Just a shot over Terry's bowes. We don't want any sailor's talk about buttock lines please. You can't just slip that kind of language in and expect to get away with it JoH! Steady now. Pull yourself together. There might be children watching.

I agree with Miki, but you might add a few words (if they are true): "Je déclare que je n'ai aucune objection à M. Dick Smith de l’adresse suivant, … …, une nouvelle fenêtre mise dans sa maison d’un type et d’une taille faite connu."

Ahhh, for the mountain fresh smell of Swissbarry wafting once more through the office. I felt it was truly you in my water, after the first Swiss posting I spotted the other day. But I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it. I didn't want to risk disappointment. But it is, at last the real you, complete with genuine brown wallpaper, a nice jumper, and disappointing sock experiences - entirely genuine and just as I imagined. What I very much want to say is welcome back old lad. And will the Living France I.T. Guru's kindly adjust your label.  

Sorry folks. The image is saved on the office pc. I'll send it again on Monday. It's worth the wait! Rob

INFALLIBLE STRESS TEST   (especially useful for those troubled by moles) Look carefully at the two graceful dolphins below. And call your doctor immediately you notice anything unusual.

And what about Tracey? Can't leave her out.

In case we might want to get in touch with any of them urgently, do you have their numbers? I suppose they must have losts their deed poles in these countries at sometime in the distant past. Perhaps we took them. There's a sad story in here somewhere.

Never actually seen any seals in the Aude, Quillie, Naval or otherwise. Don't think they coexist particularly well with canoes. Still, if they do come, you can add them to your mole collection and your rogue chickens and advertise yourself as a wild life attraction. You do sound pretty wild, and you can't be blamed for that. Glad your trip to Blightie was a success.

I hope so much that those with worries about securing work and income will soon find a way through. For two years, until this coming April (when we leave the UK for our new home in France), I have been teaching job search skills in deepest Peckham - south London. The problems in France are clearly a great deal worse, particularly for those born elsewhere. If the French job market operates in any similar way, there are two key fall-backs: First, are there any opportunities to become an unpaid volunteer with a not for profit organisation? This keeps your confidence up, your skills current, your 'contacts' network alive, and can lead to paid employment with the same outfit - (this worked for me). Second, is there another occupation you could turn to or train for, widening the potential sphere of work available to you - (this also worked for me because I recognised I had some 'transferrable' skills)? Its too easy to waffle-on, I know, but ... ... ...the really important need is to maintain your self-esteem whatever happens. Often we learn from childhood that our 'worth' is in what we can do. But that is entirely wrong. It's who you are that counts. Unfortunately, when they can't find work, people are sometimes tempted to present themselves as someone else. The best book (the most practical instruction manual) I have ever read on the subject of getting work (and staying sane) is "What colour is your Parachute". I send all those who find themselves in this predicament my profoundest well-wishes.

It is heartening to notice someone 'nearly new' is now masquerading as Swissbarry - (see 'I'm having a bad day'). While it can't be the real Swissbarry (everyone knows Swissbarry could never be termed 'Newbie'), as far as I am concerned, this imposter has already mastered the Swissbarry sense of humour. In fact, at this rate, it will not be too long before he is better than the original. I've wondered where the real Swissbarry went. I'm sure he completely underestimated the affects of his disappearance on this site - the wholesale sense of humour failure that followed almost immediately. It's great to see him back in the Living France trenches, a veteran figure in the fight for truth and the Republic - even if he is counterfeit! A real test might be - can he yoddle? 

Will, you are a veritable encyclopedia. Very interesting. With you around I think I can safely throw away my old ones. And thank you for raising the subject Alexis. Just the job - and long overdue. Its what I call proper culture. And, it turns out, so Francais!

I was wondering if its the kind of weather builders in Quillan like, because it might still be a bit Cold, Wet and Snowy - wasn't Snowy a friend of Biggles or was that Dick Barton? I don't mean was Dick Barton a friend of Biggles because I'm fairly sure that was Algie, though it might have been Ginger. It's whether (HELP!) its Snowy that I'm worrying about due to the work being behind already, and I don't want anything or anyone intererferring with getting it finished in time - and I'm including Pilots in this and everything and everyone, especially Special Agents and Moles, and people that might be thinking about parachuting-in under cover to carry-out acts of malicious sabotage in the next 58 days. Anyway, any news? Phew! I feel better now.

Alexis. I cannot believe we're the only Magic Roundabout fans on this site. I have always found the programmes extremely amusing, and seem to remember hearing they were made abroad somewhere? With so many repeats showing constantly on TV, its about time they appeared again - in a time slot for grown-ups!

“Only people with things to hide ‘come out’” said Dougal. “We’d all like to know what you’re hiding underneath that coat” Dillon said in his best supercilious. “All?” replied Ermintrude, “Speak for yourself!” “Bet someone around here know what’s under it,” Dillon persisted, “and her name’s not Zebedee.” “No class, some people” mumbled Dougal. “No future either,” said Zebedee, “this conversation isn’t going anywhere.” “Neither am I” Dougal sniffed, “stuck with you lot." “What goes round comes round, man;" yawned Dillon,"we need excitement. We need exposé.” “Save us” groaned Dougal. “Anyone seen Florence?”

Yes Teamedup. It's tempting to try and give a CV the widest possible appeal by making it general. But they need to be focused, particular work in particular organisations - and that usually means having several versions of the same CV, and it also means loads of information- gathering and preparation. One of the key questions necessary to determine the size of the challenge is: assuming I have the required knowledge, skills, and character and I beleive my CV demonstrates this, then 'how many applications should I need to make in order to get one interview, and how many interviews should be necessary before a job is offered? Only when you have established a sensible answer these questions do you really know when something is wrong. Useful feed-back is almost impossible to get, otherwise.

Maddogwoman, our builder refers to the Inspection Chamber, (access), as 'the Regard'.

Very amusing,

I was greatly relieved the other day: I found the only public WC in Epsom had re-opened after weeks of closure for ‘essential repairs’. These turned-out to be the installation of a wall-sized glass splash-back, quirkily emblazoned with several roundels, presumably the aim of the project. In Quillan, by comparison, our French home town, the sole surviving public urinal has had its pipes joined, and this singular engineering achievement will be much applauded by men of uncertain plumbing who prefer dry feet.   Noticing these things, I am vaguely troubled to realise that 'loos' seem to have become as important to me as I recall they used to be during my childhood.   How scandalised my parents were years ago by our miscellaneous French lavatory adventures. They spent considerable effort ensuring we recognised the right door to enter (if there happened to be a door), and were totally baffled when sometimes both doors lead into same enclosure. Sometimes, strong willed members of our party would refuse point-blank to strap-hang from porcelain footprints, preferring to risk exposure to motoring France. I have a vivid memory myself – staring out over an unexpected chasm, wild-eyed, bladder-seized, knowing that a momentary lack of concentration would bring certain death – after entering what appeared from outside to be a perfectly harmless hotel toilet.   Has anything changed?   

Sad: You would never realise, - strolling carelessly around the tourist Mecca of Quillan, delighting at the new blue street lights, admiring the refurbished bank, and leaving the public lavatory with dry feet, thanks to the now joined-up pipes, - that a mere four kilometres further towards Perpignan a man was facing ruin. And with what stoicism! I am almost proud to be British, to be able to claim kinship with Quillie, however distant. Surely others have also struggled to comprehend the sheer scale of adversities he has faced. By what bizarre twist of fate, we ask, has the entire fauna of France come to his beautiful Assisi? Can it be merely to eat his cabbages and ride on his train? Oh no! They've come to commune with their latter-day St Francis; a sort of Bill Oddy - but with less oddities. I do see some holes in Opas' solution - mostly in my garden. But this is not nimbyism. Can't you see Quillie that you have the makings of a wild life sanctuary down by your rather busy bit of river? Wouldn't it be better to go the whole hog, put the mole wrench away, make a permanent truce, and sell tickets to the punters? You can give up the day-job. There are government grants just waiting. Paris is already forming a disorderly queue!  

Teamedup is right. Balcony area counts as living space, and therefore has a potential impact on your tax d'habitude as well as plannings regs. If the additional area pushes your total over 170 square metres you'll need an architects etc., etc., but you will certainly need to apply for permission.

Thanks to GRT17 I now know why I can never find 'France en Terre' - because it's actually called France Inter - which hergoodself says she knew all the time, if I'd just thought to ask. Font of all knowledge, or what!

Will, will it be indiscreet to enquire whether the '(50)' in your LF sign-off is a count of years, or a geographical location? It's the kind of information journalists feel is always essential.

Quillie, would you please let me have the name and address of your doctor? With an advisor like that, a body could get seriously happy.

Well, we went for new built. But there is no shortage of old character - the moment hergoodself crosses the threshold!