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Dinan market


allblack
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There was a piece in yesterday's Sunday Times - see http://www.timesonline.co.uk/newspaper/0,,2771-2335348,00.html

As it is difficult to get to the Times website from France, here is the text.

French mistress: Red tape goes nuts
Helena Frith Powell

All we wanted to do was sell our almond crop at the local market. Nothing is that simple in France 
 
It is 7.30 in the morning and I am in the courtyard of the mayor’s office in Pézenas. No, I’m not in trouble with the authorities again — I’m here to sell fresh almonds.
There is a bustling market in Pézenas on a Saturday, and my husband’s latest money-making scam is that we sell the almonds from our almond grove.

In order to get a stall at the market, one has to queue up with about 30 other hopefuls at the crack of dawn. Needless to say, my husband is still in bed and I am queuing. My stepson, Hugo, has agreed to come with me, with the proviso that he is home before the start of the Test match.

I was amazed when I phoned the mayor’s office earlier in the week to ask what one needs to do to secure a stall.

“Just show up,” said a seriously surly woman, who was clearly already bored even though it was only 9am.

“That’s all? No papers to fill in? No birth certificate translated by an official translator? No need to know what I’m selling?” “No,” she said.

I could have been coming along with pornographic literature for all she knew. Or, even worse, Wellington memorabilia.

But as we check out our fellow stallholders, I realise things aren’t that simple. In front of me in the queue are two men. They not only have papers with them but are also clutching great folders of official-looking documents.

I explain our plan, and they both shake their heads.

“They won’t let you do anything without papers. We’ve been coming here for years, but we bring them every time,” says one, waving an impressive folder in my direction. He tells me he is here to sell goat’s cheese. The other plans to sell fruit and veg.

“One man last week drove three hours to get here and was turned away because he had no insurance certificate,” adds the fruit and veg man. Our little venture seems doomed to failure.

“I know!” says Hugo. “If we don’t get a stall, the fruit and veg man could take our almonds and 50% of the profit he makes on them.” This boy will go far (he is 14).

I suggest Hugo’s plan to the fruit and veg man, who agrees it’s a good one. Hugo then suggests we could take 50% of the profits he makes on his sales as well, but he doesn’t seem so taken with that idea.

I ask our new friends how the system works, and they tell me you have to register the goods you are selling, then you are given a ticket with a number on it. At eight o’clock there is a raffle, and if your number is picked, you are taken to a corresponding spot in the market.

Finally, the door opens and we start to file into an office. Behind the desk sit a police officer and a woman from the mayor’s office.

“Oh, dear, this looks scary,” says Hugo. “You’re going to need all your French for this.”

As he speaks, he leans against the wall, inadvertently turning out the lights in the room.

“Uh-uh, that’s not a good start,” he says, switching them back on as the policeman behind the counter sighs.

“You can always tell the newcomers,” smiles the goat’s cheese-seller. “They invariably lean on the light switch. We all know it’s there.”

Finally, we get to the front of the queue.

“We’re selling almonds,” I tell the policeman.

“What?” is his response.

“Almonds,” I repeat. I have changed nothing in the way I pronounce the word almonds, but this time he seems to understand.

“Where are your papers?” he demands.

“We don’t have any, this is just a one-off. We’re selling the contents of our almond grove.”

He and the woman look at each other in despair.

“You can’t just sell to the public without any papers,” thunders the policeman. “You need papers. Everyone before you had papers. You need to be a member of the Chamber of Commerce; you need insurance ” His list goes on and on. I am beginning to understand how an illegal immigrant trying to bluff her way into France must feel. In fact, I’m amazed they have a problem with immigrants here at all, such is the efficacy of their bureaucrats.

Hugo and I have no option but to walk out of the office without our ticket to the day’s lottery, heads bowed as the rest of the queue stares at us.

Once outside, we try to find our fruit and veg man. He is nowhere to be seen. But we find the cheese-seller, who asks another stallholder he knows if she would like to sell our almonds.

“No, we don’t even bother picking ours,” she says. “Nobody wants them. The only place you can sell them is the beach.”

We walk past our friend Jean-Luc’s grocery store.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, looking at his watch.

We tell him what has happened.

“Bring your almonds here,” he says. “I’ll sell them.”

We collect the almonds. Jean-Luc weighs them: there are 9kg.

“How much were you going to sell them for?” he asks.

“I thought €5 a kilo.

“That’s what you get for dried almonds,” he tells me. “It’s too much.”

I do some shopping while I’m there. My bill comes to €44. Jean-Luc charges me €28 and says the balance is for the almonds.

So we bought the land and the almond grove for several thousand euros, had the trees pruned by an Irishman for €100 and the ground rotivated for €60. We have made a total of €16 on the sale of almonds. As the saying goes, God hates a primary producer. Even in France.

 

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Perhaps it was mneant to be humourous but I really am not laughing, despite it being my birthday[:D].  Am I the only one who thinks that with an attitude to the French and Johnny Foreigner like Helena double barelled patronising pillock, she really should have stayed in the UK?  I bet she gets on so well with her neighbours[:P]

P:eople like her should be banned from even going to the Isle of Wight and they would send her back to the mainland.[:D].

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I am sure that each market organises itself in its own way. But I think the constant theme running through any attempt to earn a living in France is the bureaucracy and conflicting information, which I thought the article highlighted rather well, even though I have to concur with Ron that it could have been a bit less patronising. I am sure that Miss double-barrelled whatever it was you called her will have encountered this already when she tried to register herself as a freelance journal correspondent in France (which of couse she will have done in order to carry out work for the British press while resident in France) [:-))].

Note in particular the requirement to be registered with the Chamber of Commerce in order to trade at markets - that one seems fairly standard, though the author fails to mention that registering with the Chambre des Agriculteurs or similar is also OK and would probably be more appropriate in her case, as plenty of small-scale producers manage to sell regularly at markets.

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[quote user="allblack"]Could still do with some specific advice re Dinan market[/quote]

Dinan market is held on a Thursday in the Place du Guesculin (not spelt correctly, but I seriously can't be arsed), enquire at the Mairie (about 200M away).

Do you expect to able to make a living selling food 1 day a week?

 

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[quote user="Ron Avery"]

 

P:eople like her should be banned from even going to the Isle of Wight and they would send her back to the mainland.[:D].

[/quote]

Most of the people who come to the Isle of Wight should be banned from visiting it and many of its inhabitants should be shipped to the mainland. (It's been a bad day in the world of careers guidance and I'm p*****ed off!)

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 I hate getting rid of books, especially hardbacks, however the notable exception is the book 'Two Lipsticks and a Lover' it went in the charity bag without a twinge or pang (its by Helena Frith Powell)  Perhaps I should have sent it to Ron for his birthday [:D][:D]

Have a good one Ron ............

 

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[quote] Dinan market is held on a Thursday in the Place du Guesculin (not

spelt correctly, but I seriously can't be arsed), enquire at the Mairie

(about 200M away).

Do you expect to able to make a living selling food 1 day a week? [/quote]

Well he can count on us for a couple of sarnies each week !! Only a

hundred more then, then there's Combourg and Dol de Bretagne etc but

probably something more than just Bacon sarnies will be needed to keep

Chirac from the door[;-)]

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[quote user="Russethouse"]

 I hate getting rid of books,

especially hardbacks, however the notable exception is the book 'Two

Lipsticks and a Lover' it went in the charity bag without a twinge or

pang (its by Helena Frith Powell)  Perhaps I should have sent it

to Ron for his birthday [:D][:D]

Have a good one Ron ............

 [/quote]

And the end of the day she just writes about a version of France

that a section of the public wants to believe in. She's just trying to

make a living, so she panders to their tastes and prejudices. I find it

hard to believe that she really went through this exercise myself. If

she did, I can only assume that she went deliberately unprepared to be

sure of having a story to write. How anyone who has lived here for more

than 15 minutes could turn up to such an event without a folder full of

paper and expect to be taken seriously beggers belief.

I quite liked her book. The pages weren't too heavily coated and were really quite absorbant.

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And just like so many others, including Mr Mayle, these folks may well

view Forums, listen to stories in bars, listen to stories at lunches

with ex pats and simply produce it in a story to suit those that will

believe it all cos it's the first time they have heard the story but

for some of us, it s for the umpteenth time. Or they will produce known

facts that have done the rounds for decades and  re-release them

to suit !

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Don't be silly, Easter Bunny and Santa are real peeps and as for the

tooth Fairy..................met her not long ago when she tried to put

a shiny new euro under my pillow and woke me up when she blew off[:)]

Je vais...I'm on my way......that's UB 40 surely....................

who is Micky Thomas, not that Welsh togger ex international is he ?

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Miki, for the length of time you have been in France you don't need to know who Michel Thomas is.  He teaches language and comes out with things like "Je vais........ I'm on my wayyyyyyyyyyy" to help us remember the meaning. I wrote it just as I was leaving for my hols.

The tooth fairy still visits you?  I don't know whether to be impressed with that or not.  Besides, you dont need to worry about her 'cos me and Twinks will hover around you soon when you are least expecting it.[6]

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You know I said I got rid of the scoobie alert ?

Well, I swapped it for twinkatie alert, if you get within 100

metres of chez Miki , the dogs get released automatically and I can't

be responsible for either the sausage dog called Andy (after a favourite

andouillette) or the Yorky (named chokky after my favourite truckers

bar) who go, not for the throat but the wallet (or purse in your two

cases) brilliant mutts, helping me make me a few quid at the moment

outside Lidl's [:)]

Have no fear, after all this time, I still talk French like the proverbial vache espagnole !!!

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