Framboise

Yes Gastines, our friend is doing very nicely out of his wombling licence thanks.   He rakes in a fortune in scrap metals, textiles (including things like jeans with mastic on them!) but especially old furniture & nick nacks that he cleans up and sells to various antique dealers around the area.  He also sells at a very big car boot sale where he has people literally fighting each other to buy old tvs and white goods which they then export back to Nigeria by the container-load.   That old saying "Where theres muck, theres brass...." is certainly true because its not a job people would actually relish the idea of, yet there is a fortune to be made from it if you don't mind getting your hands a bit mucky. Of course the council has cottoned on to this line now thus have tripled the price for the licence to go - a - wombling and he has been outbid by some huge corportion that is moving the tip to a smaller site in a less prosperous area, flattenning the offices etc and is going to build a luxury housing development instead.  Our friend's nice little earner is all but over now but he has virtually paid off his mortgage on the proceeds of what other folk have slung out in the bins,so he is not complaining.

We here inN.E.Surrey are still on weekly collections, with glass and other recycleables taken on alternating weeks, but if you want a garden bag it will cost you £25 a year with collections fortnightly.  Frankly the garden bag is about big enough for the contents of one lawnmower box, let alone any other trimmings etc., so I thank heavens that we decided to get rid of all the lawns otherwise we would surely be neck-deep in cuttings by now.   If you have any other stuff to get rid of like old washing machines or big carpets the council charges £25 upwards to pick them up so is it any wonder that fly-tipping is rife around here. Oh and furniture that is stillhalfway decent you get charged to take it away and then an hour later it is on sale outside the tip offices! On that topic I think I surely must get the award for the strangest, not to mention most morbid item that was fly-tipped locally.  I was walking my dog and the shortcut to the woods takes you through the local British Legion carpark which has become quite a favoured depositary of junk recently.  My dog has the annoying habit of watering every tree, twig or blade of grass, so he sees this massive pile of stuff that he simply had to autograph and proceeds to rummage about amongst the things.   He then decides that this particular wooden box would be suitable and was just about to "christen" it when I realised there was something unusual about it, dragged him off and discovered to my utter horror that it was a box containing someone's recently departed Granny!   Some reprobate had fly-tipped their Gran amidst piles of garden rubbish, paint cans, broken furniture and smashed pots.  Unbelieveable. Anyway I could not leave the old girl there so I took the box up to the local church where I left it with the vicar who was disgusted at how someone had treated their old gran with such irreverence in dumping her like that.  I later heard that the vicar traced the family through the undertaker's label on the box and they feigned ignorance as to how this had happenned - how they could not notice Gran's box was missing I don't know - but the vicar scatterred the ashes in the churchyard so that the old lady would not end up being fly-tipped again.   What a sad indictment of society.  

On a similar vein about recycling. Here in UK I can fill my blue-lidded recycling bin in a week if I really go at it so I guess I shall be off to the depot when we move to France with a car full of the stuff. However, check this out for a laugh.   We get a glossy booklet about what we can recycle, saving the planet etc, so being a good gal I dutifully wash and sort all my stuff then place it all in my blue bin or the glass box.   Now I know for a fact (because we have a friend who has bought the contract at our local tip to sort through the junk for goodies) and he takes textiles & clothing for recycling that he sells at a pretty decent profit per tonne.    With this in mind I was sorting out some of hubby's old work clothes - the ones he has wiped mastic on, dripped paint on the legs then left with dried concrete on them making generally ruined and not suitable for giving to charity, but in the spirit of recycling I washed them and then put them into my blue bin.   WRONG!!!!! On collection day I put my bins out in the allocated spot on the path.  Later on I see the lorry disappearing up the road and then find that they have left my bulging bin untouched, so I phone up the office to be told that because I have "Put unsuitable items into the blue bin, the crew have not taken them...".  At first they would not tell me what my "unsuitable items" were and refused to come to empty the bins, then after I persisted they admitted that my crime was three pairs of old jeans!!!   So if I want to dispose of any more old jeans (undoubtedly infected with polonium 210, blue asbestos or suchlike) - I must not put them in recycling.  Even if they are eventually recycled!   Now work that one out because I find it hard to find any sort of logic if the recycling unit won't handle textiles and our Wombling friend does.  Madness.

I have either / or.   Guess which one I would much prefer if it were possible just yet?. Traffic.   School-runners and commuters clogging up the roads or chucking their cigarette packets and sweet wrappers into my garden because they can't be bothered with the bin 2 metres from them.  Murdurous parking problems.  Kamikaze buses and lorries weaving in and out between road humps, trains rumbling through on  the way to Waterloo.   Fumes, dust, pollution, gridlock on any day of the week as well as aircraft noise.  Add to that the planes dumping fuel before they land at Heathrow, oh then theres light pollution whereby you rarely see a star at night and ASBO hoodies up to mischief outside the local shops.   Nice. OR Green fields.  Quiet lanes edged with daisies and buttercups.  Acres of corn gently waving in the breeze, a distant tractor chugging between fields and the occasional vehicle passing the hamlet.  There are birds singing.    Tiny little wrens to the buzzards circling overhead.   Even that little devil Monsieur Loir in the grenier!    The downsides are bearable though as I am sure I can cope with the whiff of manure when the cows are in residence in the next field, or the face of the house overlooking the lane being splatterred with mud when the farmer takes his tractor down to the barns. Hobson's Choice - no choice at all is it?   Alas I have to make the best of it here for the time being but my heart lies elsewhere. Sigh!

Jungle?  My garden here in UK was more like the Somme up until a few years ago when we reclaimed it from the kids.  Where once there were potholes, craters, mud, broken bikes and virtually NO plantlife, we now have beautiful terraces, shrubs, a greenhouse, hubby's workshop and a fab fishpond. This beggars the question  -why are we leaving it all behind to begin again in a field??? Fact is I am not going to remodel our French garden or anglicise it, apart from the roses around the windows I have already planted, plus I love the wildflowers in the meadow.    This will remain, just a tidied up version of it. And gnomes?   I have two here.  One is a Village People Biker Gnome an the other a Muscleman!    More an ironic statement than anything else don't cha think?

We too have been extremely lucky with our French neighbours.    The husband has come to my aid several times with re-booting our chauffage that has a mind of its own, his wife has been wonderful in helping me decipher what some documents really mean and I am glad to say that I feel that we will become firm friends when we move next year permanently.   They have also been really helpful because they know the ins 'n outs of the planning procedures having built their own house so can advise us on what to expect during the renovations of our old place.    In fact my hubby and the neighbour will be working on our house together doing the loft conversion when the permis comes through and it may be that they will set up in business together eventually. As to thankyou gifts, I usually take English sweets out for the children (old fashioned boiled sweets like humbugs & cough candy) but of course the 'ol bottle of scotch never goes amiss with Dad, especially one of those fancy brands.  Christmas time we went out fully loaded with gallons of the stuff plus 15 tins of Quality Street choccies!   Next visit I have our old computer going out there as a gift for the children which Mum says will help them no end with their school work. To have good neighbours is great, be they here or en France.    For 18 long years we had "The Family from Hell" nextdoor to us in UK, so when they moved away the entire neighbourhood breathed a collective sign of relief, although we did feel sorry for the area that got them next knowing what we did about them.   I suppose our French neighbours must have wondered about us when they heard that english were buying that old wreck, but they have been so helpful and kind that we could not ask for anything more really other than being accepted into such a small close-knit community.

So you have a digger huh?   My husband has bought "me" one - allegedly - although it has yet to be transferred out to our house AND I have not done His Driving Test on it yet which I guess means that he will be driving it about like Lewis Hamilton in the interim.   We have a Kubota thingy.  Its a sort of digger / mini-dozer with a lawn attachment which means far too many handles, buttons & knobs for me to contend with, so maybe I will let him get on with it whilst I pretend to be a bimbo!  As to the brambles and stuff, I am afraid you have a lot of hands-on digging to get rid of them, likewise the bindweed as I found the wretched stuff clogging up my one solitary flower bed when I visited the house last week and that took a whole day to rip out.  I expect more of the same when I next visit. One thing to bear in mind with weeds, especially when you inherit an expanse of neglected or uncultivated land or garden: -                                     "One years seeds equals seven years weeds" due of course to certain weeds being annual, some biannual and others perennial.   Unfortunately that means if you start now, by 2014 you might have won the battle for supremacy in the flower beds.   Doesn't bear thinking about does it?

As I said, the parent trees are very old  and my Dad (who is 68) remembers climbing these trees as full-sized when he was a very small boy and falling out of them often!   I think its unlikely that they were grafted specimens  because there is no scion visible,so perhaps they might even be some ancient old English apple tree that was long forgotten about, especially as I did try to discover what they were in my garden encyclopaedia and found nothing like them?   Either way, I am delighted that I have these three little nippers to remind me of Grandad when we flit off to the Orne next year.  And they will be at home amongst the cidre orchards of Normandy too!  

I did not realise that a dog's breed might be an issue, apart from pitbulls. We have a labrador x bull mastiff.  Ed is a big gingery/chocolate sort of fat Lab with a head the size of a bucket and stumpy legs, who is also a gentle and daft old wally who adores our grand-daughter.  Unfortunately other dogs like to pick fights with him so wherever he goes he has to be muzzled, much for his own protection as anything else, so does this mean we would have issues with the authorities when we move next year?   He is already chipped and jabbed to which our vet never mentioned a word about unacceptable breeds.  Help! Likewise, we also have a young Dogue de Bordeaux, another rescue case.   She is completely potty because she is only 14 months old, but am I right in assuming that because she is a French breed that this would not be a problem?   She has been "chipped and pinned" already.    I am now concerned that when we take the pair of them out for Christmas we might have trouble with the authorities.

What a touching story!   Just when I think about how ghastly some people can be to animals, we find an example of another person doing something selfless and wonderful to help.  Thankyou for restoring my faith in humans Christine!

Having hacked away enough long grass to plant the beginnings of my mini-orchard,  I now have one little Jonagold apple tree supporting ONE glorious apple on it! One solitary pommier doth not make an orchard of course but I dearly wanted to have the same trees my grandad had here in his garden when I was a child, so decided last autumn to try to take cuttings, starting them off in water as I always do and then planting them on when a bit of root appears.   Alas it was not to be as they all died! However  I was determined to try to get myself clones of these particular apple trees because they are very old - probably well over 100 years old as my parents house was built on part of an old orchard and my grandad kept these three trees because the fruit is so delicious - so in a moment of madness I ate the apple, dried the pips and then popped them into a pot of compost where they remained most of the winter sheltered in my greenhouse.    Springtime arrived and there, to my amazement,  are three four inch high apple trees that have now been potted-up which I will grow-on until the are big enough to make the journey over to join my little orchard.   (No they aren't weeds that have popped up either!)  I can't believe it actually 'cos I was told that fruit trees are not easy to propogate and I now have three.  Amazing. Anyone else had such luck?

addendum.................Been searching for a pen name actually.   Since there are Crevettes, Pandas, & Cerises  I thought "Why not indeed", thus I will stick with this one now!.  I  changed the picture 'cos I love flowers - haven't you noticed the other one was a Nelly Moser clematis and these are wildflowers growing in my French garden meadow? I agree that it is the financial gains that have enabled so many to Live Their Dreams and move to France or Spain and we will be following suit next year of course, but had things been different we would have done this 15 years ago - long before house values went stratospheric in UK. The downside of this is that the younger generations wanting to own their own homes here have very little chance of ever doing so now when in this area a small 1930s terrace will cost you £280,000 upwards not counting all the renovations needed to make them half decent and its often more if you happen want a garden bigger than a postage stamp.  My son is in this exact predicament which is why he will move back into our home when we leave the country.    We are fortunate to be able to follow Our Dream to fruition because many never have the chance to find theirs, and I look on it that there are problems everywhere you go regardless of how idyllic it all seems when you visit that place on holiday.  You said it yourself  "hearing it all the time in Bars from people who have escaped...." well, there must be an element of truth in there somewhere surely for so many people to reiterate it to you?    There are many disillusioned people contemplating doing as we are so please don't knock us for wanting the chance at least to make a better future for ourselves.  You have already done it after all.

Time to change the subject methinks before we all blow a gasket !!!  

I don't actually read the tabloids solely and I am quite old enough and wise enough to know what is media sensationalism or what isn't.   My life here has been one huge nightmare at times for which I am going to draw a line under it to begin again in France with my husband in making a fresh start in new surroundings, meeting new people and growing into a different lifestyle, furthermore I am entirely disillusioned with everything here so with the chance to do this, why should we not grasp at it?     Nor do I need to be reminded that things are going to be tough at times because we have been through the mill enough already here, so we are under no wild illusions that we will cruise through life from now on with no troubles landing on our doorsteps, be we here or in France as it is all part of what is called "Life's Rich Tapestry".   My dreams of our new life are feasible because we both want the what France has to offer, otherwise we would not have bought our semi-derelict farmhouse, renovated it and look forward to a rural life mucking-out the animals on windswept wintry mornings or chopping logs for hours on end. I will always be English - I make no bones about that because it is my heritage ultimately, but if being English made me anything it is that I am perfectly strong enough to step out into the world and make my home wherever I choose to place it, you know, the pioneering spirit, the stiff upper lip and all the things that made Britain Great in the past. It is also how I have survived through some  painful experiences in my life.   However I won't be running back here whimpering if things don't go precisely to MY plans because being English also gives a sense of empowerment to face adversity head on and I am grateful for that as a product of late 1950s England when life really was hard for my grandparents and parents and not the doddle it is nowadays.    I will also say that people who have made the move to another country (and not just France),  those who faced more than a fair share of troubles yet pressed ahead regardless in building a future for themselves have my deepest admiration for making a success of it. As for smoking I have never even been tempted by the Evil Weed so I do not understand the need to put the foul things in my mouth and bilge filth everywhere, and furthermore I too dislike coming back from a visit somewhere reeking of stale smoke like an old ashtray so the smoking ban from my point of view is perfectly brilliant.    The same applies to the hectoring advice about salt - my father has health issues due to the stuff and is supposed to be cutting it down so I am aware of this - but nobody force feeds you salt in the pub unlike passive smoking,  do they?  That is something you are meant to do for your own good surely and if you chose to carry on regardless you have no-one to blame but yourself.   (Yes I know the NHS ends up footing the bill for it, but they have also picked up the tab for at least two "boob-jobs" that I know of amongst friends whose vanity meant that after pleading depression over their lack to the GP they were in hospital within 6 months having the ops.   What is the more important of the two?) Finally, to those who think I am some stupid  * for feeling this way about our illustrious government and their ridiculous nannying of us, be entirely grateful that I chose to not enter politics as I was asked to do few years ago!    Instead I am heading off to France to live my life how I want it, esconced in what is Our rural idyll which may not be everyone's idea of fun,  but nevertheless a place where I shall smile to myself quietly when I see on TV the latest crackpot ideas England's govt. have formulated for you all.  (And yes, we have Sky tv out there already because as yet we are not fluent enough to cope with French tv, despite watching TV5 when we are in London.   We don't intend to not learn the language so in time we will watch more of the French channels as our comprehension grows, even if the programming is every bit as grim as it can be here at times, but in  any case we will probably be far too busy to bother with any sort of tv once the farm is up and running properly.)   Certainly there will be aspects to the government's working out there that I won't agree with along with many other people, be they ex-pats or natives, but Sarkozy has yet to really start his reign so nobody really knows for sure what he will be like as President.  It is still very much a waiting game as it is here waiting for Mr. Brown to take power finally. Adieu!  I'm off........................

Thankyou Panda.  Indeed I know in my bones that five or fifty years down the line I shall be happy with my lot, whereas here I will never find peace. Oh and while I think of it, examples of WHY France does not accept rubbish from the EEC.   Banning the sale of "bent" bananas for instance-one loony EEC rule, then there are vegetables in the supermarkets which are not of standard size or colour and HORRORS........... some even have dirt on them, perish the thought.   Quick phone Health and Safety!  The Bar/Tabac near us has fag smoke so thick you can cut it with a blunt knife, yet here licensees will have huge fines landed on them if someone decides that the Smoking Ban does not apply to them and lights up in the pub. (Believe me, we know just such a person who says that this Law does not apply to him as he has been smoking for 60 years and has no intention of giving it up until they nail the lid down on his coffin, which will of course be sooner rather than later).   It ought to be a personal choice yet it isn't.   Now I am not defending smoking because I have never smoked myself yet if someone wants to poison themself with the filthy things then thats their own doing, but the Nanny State is ramming this type of old codswallop through, like hectoring us about salt, or Ask Frank and a plethora of other stuff too numerous to mention.   You are more at risk of getting MRSA sitting in the hospital waiting room than you are of dying from a salt overdose and what is actually being done about getting rid of that, apart from employing a few more Chiefs and getting rid of the Indians? And what about the huge input of cash Britain pays into the EEC coffers - more than many other countries fork out for the privilege - what exactly do we get from that, apart from giving a jolly good ride on the gravy train for the chosen few? I am not a trade unionist despite what you may think to the contrary, but I can see that the powerful French union movement wield a hefty punch that hits home when they call an "All out brothers....." which is precisely what they do when the govt. gets carried away with itself or the EEC dreams up something else to inflict on the Community.   The riots were something that had absolutely nothing to do with France itself.  They were the work of the disaffected, students who expected and did not get what they wanted and those keen to undermine society by burning and running amok.   The peaceful French resort to strikes, not arson, moreover its not so long ago that England had Poll Tax riots is it? I have said my piece and I will not be adding anything further, aside from this: - We are glad to have the opportunity to make a new start for ourselves in France to pursue our Dream and like everyone else we will give it our best shot.  We intend to join the community at large, blend in then work to make the French Way ours, however my rose coloured specs went into the recycling bin years ago Zeb and Plod and I do not view life as skipping through a flowery mead on a sultry August afternoon with the breeze in my hair.  Sometimes life absolutely stinks as it will when we live in France (for which we have no qualms about whatsoever), yet we will grasp the future even though occasionally it may bear the barbs of a stinging nettle because life is actually a catalogue of trial and error.   Just because things don't work out for YOU,  that certainly does not mean ts going to means disaster for everyone else.     We are all different after all. End of lecture! 

I have seen good and bad immos.   T The Dodgy Dutchman - a fine example of BAD, in fact I was told a few days ago he has evolved into a full-time Dodgy Builder now he has sold his immobilier. The Agent who found our house for us has been wonderful, a total contrast to the Dodgy Dutchman.  She has become a good friend who has helped us enormously with our renovations. Yes indeed, there are ARE good and bad people everywhere so you just have to be a little careful with whom you lay your trust. 

Just arrived back here in UK after five days of bliss in our house. In reply to Zeb and others whose comments I have just read :- My old Grandad said many decades ago of politicians "All tarred with the same brush........" and they are, be they French, American, British, Chinese etc.   The point I was making is that we are utterly fed-up with life here that if we are to be persecuted by beaurocracy, then it might as well be in a place that we love and feel happy in,  rather than in UK where it is one fiasco after another and furthermore, IF Sarkozy turns out to be a Tone-Alike we will have had plenty of practice already in being PC doormats to the World!   Maybe I am disillusioned with life in UK but I know we are doing the right thing for us ultimately. As for my rosy specs.  The scales fell from my eyes years ago so rosy specs are useless to me and actually life can be very tough wherever you are in this world - some places more than others.  What are all the refugees after as they desparately try to gain access to England?   (Apart from money and an easy ride)  They look on this place with rosy specs surely?   From a personal viewpoint, If yearning to be elsewhere in a place we love and feel at home in makes us appear naieve or somehow wrong, well bring it on babe because we are ready!     We will of course return to UK to visit our family & friends here, but as far as I am concerned this is the last house move we will make and my final journey in my Box will definately NOT be back to England as I intend to remain in France to rejoin the soil there.   Regardless of the government we happen to like the peace and quiet, the lovely people we have met and the laid-back lifestyle in France, all of which are enough reasons why we are going ahead with our plans, so in closing - All of you lucky people out there in France moaning about the unions / rules & legislation / EEC directives / etc, by all means come back here and see how long you can stand it.  See how long you can bear the Nanny State hectoring you about what you can eat/drink/smoke,  self-satisfied politicos hugging hoodies as misundertood souls, corruption and so much else, all this placed alongside England's Green & Pleasant Land disappearing under tarmac and concrete faster than the blink of an eye.   If France is now like England of the 1970's at least that means we will have 30 years before it becomes as dire as this place is now in 2007, nor am I speaking from some hellish inner city ghetto as "this place" is suburban Surrey where you do indeed get hoodies roaming the streets and rampant crime.  Moreover, out there you have to pay for your medical treatment but at least you don't leave hospital with worse diseases that you went in with (point being a neighbour's mother died from MRSA only last week, contracted when she went in for day surgery)   You do not know how fortunate you are mes amies.   No doubt I have stirred up a hornet's nest with my views but I am totally resolute that we are leaving these shores next year to begin our new life in France.   Has anyone considered that Sarkozy might be just the thing France needs to sort out the unions - he is alleged to base himself along Thatcheresque ideals   Time will tell.  

We had a huge toad residing in our house when we bought it, how he got in there was a mystery but during the initial renovations he was ejected several times, along with the Loir who has since returned. The first night we were able to sleep in the house there was no sign of Toady, so we thought he had finally got the hint and moved elsewhere, however next morning I noticed a small puddle on the floor beside the bed and there He was!   Sitting on my purse in my handbag, puffing his cheeks at me!!   Cheeky devil.   Since I was not too keen to remove the blighter from my bag, Husband picked him up and old Toady widdled all over his hand as if to say "That will teach you mate!", and although he has not been in the house since we fitted a new front door I don't leave my handbag on the floor any longer,  just in case............            (A thought.   Maybe he has smuggled himself back here in my bags instead?) And frogs too.   I made Husband make a frog-ladder to allow the frogs to escape from the drainage basin where the roof gutters drop into the soakaway into the underground stream gulley, thence to the well.   Our neighbour thinks I am a loony worrying about the frogs drowning in the well,  but I spent ages fishing them out so now I don't need to fret about it, AND I have seen four froggies sitting on our patented "frog ladder" so it must work!

Living Wills??    What about written Wills that are not used or simply ignored?  My poor old mother-in-law passed away two years ago thinking she had signed, sealed and delivered her final wishes to make them watertight against her second husband's greedy grasping son.  (He is not a blood relative.  Mum married his late father).  Unfortunately for us it seems that we shall have to go to Court to repel this avaricious little worm who has had her estate frozen for two years simply because the Govt. enables him to do so, in spite of the fact he has no proof whatsoever of his ridiculous claim and that Mum cut him out of her life as soon as she realised he was after her money.    Frankly, it makes me wonder if its actually worth bothering with writing Wills when this nonsense can be allowed to happen, aided and abetted by the legal profession.     Get the idea I am not amused somehow??

Hello Pat!, I still like the area we live in here, even though it has deteriorated as the Green Belt has vanished under concrete as everything is built on or over.  This area seems to be endless traffic now, never a moment's peace........  God I sound bloody old, and I'm not.  Honest!! However, no matter what we will still be English, probably thought of as "those potty ones who bought that wreck down the road" by the neighbours, and yet we have become so disillusioned with how England has deteriorated in the last ten years or so that for us it is time to get out.  Our children are staying here for the time being (Oh one is coming with us), so the house will remain ours but for my husband and I we have found Our Place which is all we ever wanted and leaving her behind is a terrible wrench every time.   The subtle difference between our house here and that in France is that I could happily close the door here and never give it a backwards glance, mainly because I know the kids will look after this one as they all grew up here, but hubby and I found our dream and grasped it with both hands.  We see our setting off to a new life together  as natural progression, a bigger-than-usual- step in the scheme of things,  and anyway, the kids will have to do something for themselves when we are gone won't they!!   Our biggest regret is that we were unable to make this move when the children were young enough to make the transition, but now they are all grown up (allegedly) it is the right time to do this for US.   We are I suppose "Empty Nesters" but we are the ones flying the coop, not the kids.

My husband and I plan to flit these shores next year when the work at our lovely house should be nearing completion, although that saying I suspect it will be a case of repainting the Forth Bridge in that it is an ongoing job and probably without an end in sight.  Not that we mind -   it is a labour of love for us to quietly toil at the task of making our house as beautiful as she deserves to be, growing from an ugly duckling into the magnificent edifice we know she will be.  Eventually.... Our reasons for this are pretty much like everyone elses because we too are fed-up with being persecuted by the Government, harrangued and bothered by Jobsworths and having every single civil liberty removed by Those We Stupidly Elected under False Pretences, moreover we admire the way the French people simply do not take this type of garbage from their ilustrious leaders and promptly oust them, rather than wring their hands and whimper as we appear to do so very well.   We also admire the way the French Govt. don't accept any of the EEC nonsense if they feel it is against Their Culture and simply ignore it, whereas how often do we see Our Lot grovellng to some Euro stuffed shirt and signing us up to yet another disaster for this country?    Disasters to which we are given absolutely no say-so as to whether WE want them or not!  Well for us, we reached the end of the line with it all and are set to pursue our future in France next year when the house is moreorless finished and our daughter has finished her appenticeship.   Our life becomes our own at last     yippeeee!!! We do of course know that there may only be twenty miles between these shores and France, yet it makes a world of difference in the scheme of things in every facet of life.  We are leaving our small suburban house in the outskirts of London to join a tiny rural community in the Orne - total opposites of each other - but athough we will miss family and friends we have realised that we are never going to find true happinness here as England vanishes down the plughole.   Every time we have to leave France it becomes more of a wrench to get on that ferry, knowing that aggro and road-rage are lurking outside the ferry terminal in wait for us, ndeed we both look forward to the day we can say "We are going home to stay finally....." and not have to return here unless we choose to do so.  I can't wait!  

I quite agree that not all immobiliers or notaires are utterly trustworthy, let alone the sellers, but we were almost caught out by a rogue immo when we went out to France on our house hunting expedition eighteen months ago.  Fortunately we had a French lady working as our agent  which at the time seemed rather an extravagance, yet she proved her worth when she rescued us from this despicable shyster who was trying to sell us a hovel disguised as a renovation project from a number of demolition sites he had on his books.   From what we heard from other folk we got to know locally, quite a few of them had been unlucky enough to get caught by this particular immo. who also touts himself as a professional builder / electrician / mr. wonderful. We had travelled out to view a particular house we had seen on the internet and frankly I wanted that place so much that it would have been a foregone conclusion for us to leave as the Owners of it, however the night before we were due to leave the vendor rang to say that it was sold that day but they knew there were immos in the area we were going so why not still make the trip?   First place the three of us pitched up in, there he was.  All permed hair and perma-tan, flash suit and every inch the estate agent - say no more! This man was dutch apparently and married to a german woman who terrified all who crossed her path, but what she & hubby did not bank on was that the lady with us understood every single word that they said about us when we returned from a viewing trip to the bomb-sites they had in mind for us.  Needless to say that our agent took a very dim view of it, refusing to say what they actually said but ripping into them influent German with a few home truths, then after that she marched us back out of the shop stating that they were a bunch of "french expletives!!!" After a coffee we realised there was a small anonymous immo across the Square that did not boast about its "international links" and stuff, there inside was a charming lady who indeed had some lovely properties on her books - and these had roofs as well as walls without the water running down them!   Later that day we were taken to see several properties, amongst which we found our lovely house and I am pleased to say that the immo lady has become a good friend of ours and been on hand to help in all sorts of crises during the renovation of our house.    We gained a good friend through that despicable crook though. I would say that unless you are fluent in French and have an idea as to how the purchasing of property works out there, please find a trusworthy agent to work on your behalf and then you are far less likely to fall prey to the likes of the Dodgy Dutchman and his ilk.  A word of warning though - we heard this agency had been run out of town for their dodgy dealings, and not for the first time either. They have apparently left a trail of bad debt and broken hearts behind them, so watch out....................he is out there somewhere.

Sorry Choccie, I am inclined to agree that a burner will not get rid of nettles, no matter how satisfying it is to blast them!   I'm afraid it has to be a case of on your hands & knees with stout gloves on then wrench the blighters out of the ground, even then you need to get as much of the root run out as you can because they will re-sprout from a fragment of root left in the soil.  Why is it that the nuisance plants (the mauvaise herbes) are so darned tough nor give up the ghost when you damage them, yet the ones you want seem to keel over and die if they break a leaf?   Its not fair is it?

It sounds like another typical cock-up we expect from this country, too many chiefs and not enough indians et al! I have to say that whenever we do the  night crossing to Caen theres invariably a coachload or two of French kids heading home from London having done the  "Madame Tussauds / Buck House / Oxford Street" experience,  all excited and wound-up generally,  but not half the trouble of the similar age-groups of Brit kids doing vice versa.    One trip we did two months ago we had the gross misfortune to have a cabin amidst this spectacularly unruly mob of english children aged about 11 or 12 who spent the remainder of the night running up & down the corridors screaming and shouting, whilst their "teachers" spent it relaxing in the Bar and joining in the cabaret show.  Obviously being in loco parentis of this badly behaved collection of hooligans was not going to ruin their evening's enjoyment, even if the crew asked for help to control them,  so those of us trying to at least relax a little before landing had no chance of any shut-eye.   Cue one cranky husband that morning!   Several parents on board with younger children who were trying to sleep tried to remonstrate with the teachers but were basically ignored because they were being "spoilsports" - or words to that effect.      No wonder then that Brit kids are viewed with such disdain when they are unfairly labelled alongside the likes of this bunch of yobs.

I think everyone has had one of those terrible moments when a child wanders off and you are beside yourself thinking the worst.  It happenned with my eldest son when he was about four so I can but imagine how Maddie's parents are feeling.  My erstwhile ex-mother-in-law was supposed to be looking after him but was so engrossed with piling her money into a slot machine that he got bored and wandered off in search of fun.  We found him an hour later at the local rec playing football with a load of older boys who had him in goal for them, he was safe but it did not relieve my sense of anger that we had entrusted him to someone who was more engrossed in losing her money in a bandit.   Mother-in-law or not, she was wrong. Now whilst I pray that Maddie will be found safe, I still cannot fathom why she was left alone with two younger children in an unlocked apartment, not least because any of them could have awoken and gone walkabout in search of their parents.   They might even have ended up in the swimming pool as they made their way to the Tapas Bar but I would have thought that their wandering off was a greater danger than some spurious excuse of "there might be a fire so I left the doors open...."   Would it not have made sense to have one set of parents in the group look after the assorted offspring and taking it in turns for the Night Out? Fair enough it might ruin the sense of occasion but this is surely the ultimate price being paid for a moments thoughtlessness.     And then we all know that restaurants in Europe are far more child-friendly than here so why did they not just take the children with them if this night out was so vital?   Sadly none of this matters because a little girl is missing. I pray that Madeleine is found safe and well, but if nothing else it will serve as a timely reminder to anyone contemplating leaving their own children alone whilst they pursue an evening a deux unhindered by kids.    The McCanns must be distraught and I really do feel for them.