NormanH

Another excellent programme from C'est dans L'Air about this new  strain of the virus https://www.france.tv/france-5/c-dans-l-air/2140925-coronavirus-mutant-l-europe-se-barricade.html

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/dec/21/europe-travel-ban-punishment-brexit-eu This is a new strain of the virus..each one has a 'serial' number.The new strain has been named ‘VUI – 202012/01’ as it is the first variant under investigation in December. The Spanish one was 'a coronavirus variant that originated in Spanish farm workers spread rapidly throughout Europe and accounted for most UK cases. This variant, called 20A.EU1, is known to have spread from farm workers to local populations in Spain, but this one isn't that one.

If this report is correct it suggests a lamentable slowness to react by the British authorities: The new strain was identified in southeastern England in September and has been spreading in the area ever since, a WHO official told the BBC on Sunday. "What we understand is that it does have increased transmissibility, in terms of its ability to spread," said Maria Van Kerkhove, WHO’s technical lead on COVID-19. source: https://eu.usatoday.com/story/travel/2020/12/20/eu-nations-canada-bar-travel-uk-fearing-coronavirus-variant/3987226001/

A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day By John Donne 'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's, Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;          The sun is spent, and now his flasks          Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;                 The world's whole sap is sunk; The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh, Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph. Study me then, you who shall lovers be At the next world, that is, at the next spring;          For I am every dead thing,          In whom Love wrought new alchemy.                 For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness; He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not. All others, from all things, draw all that's good, Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;          I, by Love's limbec, am the grave          Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood                 Have we two wept, and so Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow To be two chaoses, when we did show Care to aught else; and often absences Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses. But I am by her death (which word wrongs her) Of the first nothing the elixir grown;          Were I a man, that I were one          I needs must know; I should prefer,                 If I were any beast, Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest, And love; all, all some properties invest; If I an ordinary nothing were, As shadow, a light and body must be here. But I am none; nor will my sun renew. You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun          At this time to the Goat is run          To fetch new lust, and give it you,                 Enjoy your summer all; Since she enjoys her long night's festival, Let me prepare towards her, and let me call This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.

In the summer 2020, but there are often blue skies and sun on that terrace all year round

https://www.facebook.com/ville.debeziers/videos/321003725554219/

Certainly not the Rugby teams in the 6 Nations [:D]

Foie not Fois

I wonder how that compares  with Victorian times at relative prices?

No I am the one who is so good looking that I dazzle the camera[:P]

The scooter has to be able to carry a REAL MAN:)) " Ah, you should see Norman on his scooter No longer hunched over a Zimmer Frame. Now people notice his machine, and think More highly of him; even ask his name. Touching a button, he pulls away with ease. Motability’s much easier on the knees. Through the Farmers’ Market gleaning Pity As he buys his bread and eggs. Attention Is at last being paid to him, as he hints At problems "far too serious to mention". The shining bodywork creates a sense of wealth, So naturally one’s concerned about his health. Stallholders place their produce in his basket. No need to queue now that he’s gone electric. King of the pavement since he’s not on foot-- Life without walking aids is far less hectic. Hands that dropped his sticks if he tried to walk too far Respected, now they hold a brand-new handle-bar." p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 115%; background: transparent }

"There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left the room alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- to take the pudding up and bring it in. Suppose it should not be done enough. Suppose it should break in turning out. Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose -- a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were supposed. Hallo. A great deal of steam. The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day. That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding. In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered -- flushed, but smiling proudly -- with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. Oh, a wonderful pudding. Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing. At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed: `A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us.'"

But when I am on Google earth street view I don't see an URL..

As restaurants will still be closed over the Christmas period I am reduced to a takeaway menu.. [url=https://postimg.cc/xc98YwMM][img]https://i.postimg.cc/15qq0PzC/photo-2020-12-14-12-48-36.jpg[/img][/url]

I agree but Google photos are blurred and it isn't my address

Yes...how do you do that pomme?

That is the other side of les HallesMine is at Côté Sud restaurant... Cote Sud Restaurant, Place Pierre Semard, Béziers I don't know how to post a Street view link so I give the name to post into search:)

Somehow you have made it possible to  reply on here :)

No the blur facing the camera:)

I will send you an email about a very special memory I have of this Concerto

yeah well u iz in ve Bored- on- ya innit?

Cote Sud Restaurant, Place Pierre Semard, Béziers on Street view...mobility scooter and all :)) For some reason I can't reply on Lori's thread

https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2020/dec/13/parisians-we-love-britains-culture-its-energy-its-people-its-sad-you-dont-love-us-too

I read this"La fin de la limite des 20 kilomètres. Les déplacements seront de nouveau autorisés «partout en France» et à l'étranger à partir du 15 décembre. Il sera donc possible se rendre d'une région à l'autre sans attestation dans la journée, avant le couvre-feu. That's not quite the same thing, but I'll wait to see the official regulations If one goes by journalists: https://www.bfmtv.com/economie/entreprises/transports/confinement-les-deplacements-entre-regions-restent-possibles-mais-sont-controles_AN-202011020176.html

That would have made the original Christmas difficult. Mary and Joseph wouldn't even have been able to travel to Bethlehem, never mind not being able to find accommodation..