Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Ecological, Ecology, Environment, France, French, fun, funny, Humour
This is a photo of one of the Highland Scottish cows that we have grazing in the fields of my town.
We use them as ecological ‘lawnmowers’ and Scottish cows were specifically chosen to honour the fact that we are twinned with Haddington in Scotland.
Here we can see Hamish McLazybastard (not actual name) enjoying a relaxed Wednesday morning.
20 Saturday Jun 2020
Posted in annoyances
A Cautionary tale…
Like me you may own a gazebo with a material roof. Like me you may also have areas where the water may gather from time to time, following a heavy night’s rain, causing slight bulges in the material. Like me you may prod these bulges from underneath in order to displace the water.
Do not be like me.
Please check the other side of the gazebo, before you prod the underside to make sure that the bulge is in fact caused by water.
Because that bulge that you think contains water may in fact be a bulge containing a cat.
And let me tell you, cats do not like to be prodded from underneath. Especially if they happen to be sleeping at the time. And cats have claws. And my gazebo roof is made of material. And, well…
So let me introduce you all to my gazebo version 2.0, now with added cat-made skylight…(if you squint you can just make out the claw marks in one of the photos).
26 Sunday Apr 2020
Posted in Language
We’ve lived in France for over three years now.
My kids were 3 and 6 when we arrived, so they’re pretty much French now.
They chatter away to each other and their mum in French all the time.
My son’s just come looking for his pencil case, asked me if I’d seen it.
I told him to look outside as I suspected his sister had it.
He glanced out of the back door and saw her, scribbling away with his felt tips.
He let out a deep sigh and said ‘Aww, bloody hell!’.
You can take the kid out of Yorkshire…
Posted in in the news
Tags
Corona, Coronavirus, Environment, Family, France, funny, Humor, Humour, Life, Routine
Experiment: 128
Date: 26/04/2020
Time: 9.55pm
Location: Home
I don tonight’s specifically chosen attire and exit my home. I enter the outbuilding, pausing only to turn on the interior lights before taking the receptacles firmly by their handles. I then exit the outbuilding, again pausing only to turn off the interior lights. I approach the gate and unlock it. I move the receptacles into position next to the front of the house and look both ways up the street. I note the absolute lack of people, on foot or otherwise and note also the eerie silence. Normally at this point – in all previous forays of this manner – the street would have impossibly, almost miraculously, filled with people and vehicles. Tonight – nothing.
I leave the street and reenter my property, firmly closing the gate behind me and head back inside my home. It is at this point that my research assistant (although, having found and read several of my journals she has repeatedly stated that she prefers to be referred to as ‘my wife’) sees me and starts to laugh. ‘What’ she enquires ‘Do you think you are wearing?’. My explanation – that I am wearing a dressing gown and slippers in order to verify that this strange new world we live in is indeed a changed environment, and that normally – ‘As if by magic’ I add – the street would fill with people if I put the bins out in my dressing gown and slippers – falls on deaf ears as she continues to laugh and adds ‘Stop it, I’ll wee meself’.
I shall continue my research into this strange new world tomorrow when I attempt to perform a three point turn in the middle of the day, an exercise that under normal circumstances would immediately result in a previously dead-silent street filling with eight cars, one truck, two cyclists and four pedestrians.
25 Wednesday Mar 2020
Posted in annoyances
Image for illustration purposes only, actual garden much less attractive
I currently have plenty of time on my hands and have therefore given my garden a bit of a makeover, weeded it, rearranged the solar lights, moved some plants around etc. etc. The response so far from the local community has been, on the whole, positive. Here are a selection of ones I have received…
Following reviews Sourced from Catadvisor Website:
MouseKILLAH42 wrote a review on Wednesday 25th March
**** (out of five)
‘Having been a frequent visitor to this garden in the past I am pleased to see that the recent overhaul has resulted in a marked decrease in weeds to the point where they now number almost zero. I must say that this makes defecating a real pleasure, as it means I no longer run the risk of scratching my rectum on a thistle and then having to spend all of the next day licking it. Although of course I will still spend all of the next day licking it.’
CatZilla1,089 wrote a review on Wednesday 25th March
*** (out of five)
‘Having lived next door to this human for some time now, I believe myself to be something of an authority on this garden, and therefore I am both pleased and dismayed by the changes he has wrought. The lack of weeds pleases me – as others have noted, ‘red rectum’ is now less of an issue. However the increase in lighting means that I can all too clearly see my fellow cats’ faces as they strain to unleash their logs. I find their bizarre grins most off-putting when I myself am trying to lay a cable’
Birdeater128 wrote a review on Tuesday 24th March
***** (out of five)
‘Fantastic! Amazing! Wonderful! I am running out of words to describe my reactions to the improvements my next-door-but-one human has made to his garden. The lights are wonderful! I do so enjoy watching my fellow cats drop their loads all over his pristine garden, I get a certain buzz from it! And his shrubbery and bushes are so neat now that it would be a crime to urinate and spray my scent on them. This thought often runs through my head as I urinate and spray my scent on them’
TheycallmeMRFLUFFY! wrote a review on Tuesday 24th March
* (out of five)
‘I really do not know what has happened here but myself and my 12 children shall not be going back. Lights everywhere! No weeds! He is clearly going for a modern style but it’s not to our tastes. We were forced to defecate behind the small Wendy House at the rear of the garden last night as the main garden area was full to the brim with defecating cats. He may have made it more popular with the local crowd, but I shall be taking my – and by extension that of my family’s – business elsewhere in future.’
Following reviews Sourced from WhatChicken? Website
Lucyhen1,278 wrote a review on Wednesday 25th March
** (out of five)
‘I hop/flap awkwardly in 2 dis garden from time to time and I hav 2 say dat wot he haz dun haz rooined it for me and for lotz of udda henz yeah coz dere iz no weedz now and I liked dem weeds and dey woz tazty yeah and now dere iz just loads of solar lights and cat shit. And aint nobody wantz dat yeah?’
Lucyhen1,115 wrote a review on Wednesday 25th March
** (out of five)
‘I also hop/flap awkwardly in to dis garden and I have to agree wid da uva reviewah that he haz rooined this. Dem catz iz larfing at us cos we aint got no weeds no more and they haz du mona…monopil….monopily…dey ownz dat garden now yeah? I mean I will stil flap awkwardly inn and crap in it too but It wont be da same’
Lucyhen999 wrote a review on Tuesday 24th March
***** (out of five)
‘Awww man I luvz dis garden yeah? I don’t care abaht the weeds and da light I just likz making da ownah chase me in hiz dressing gown. He nevah catchas me I just runz around behind his bushes and that. He looks propah stupid wiv his crocs onn an all. What year he finnk it is? Crocs? Itz 2020 mayte, 2008 called dey wantz dere shoes back’
Following review sourced from The Wuff Guide To Where To Pooh
Wheresmyballsgone4578 wrote a review on Tuesday 24th March
* (out of five)
‘Why man close gate? Now can’t go do poo in garden. Liked doing poo in garden. Now garden bright at night and full of cats. Also full of chickens during day. Why man close gate? Where my balls gone?’
19 Thursday Mar 2020
Posted in kids
Tags
Coronavirus, Disney, Environment, Family, funny, Humor, Humour, Life, News, Parenting, Relationships
It has now been four days since this infernal, though necessary, incarceration commenced. My tormentors hound me constantly and it seems as though I cannot take but three steps without one or the other of them appearing, as if summoned by some dark force.
As if on cue Thing Two appears through a doorway and gazes at me, the hint of a smile playing around her mouth. What, I demand, does she want from me now?
‘Elsa’ she replies, her hideous mantra starting afresh.
‘Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa! Elsa!’
Elsa. The girl with the pale face and the anthropomorphic snowman. She haunts my dreams.
I obligingly press play on the DVD player, and watch blearily as the hellish castle appears for what seems like the hundredth time in the last four days, and the tune invites me to ‘Wish Upon A Star‘. Oh I have wished. How I have wished.
Has really it only been four days?
I try to remove myself from the sofa, but her grip on my arm tightens ever so slightly and I realise I cannot leave.
Then I feel a fetid breath on the back of my neck and realise that Thing One is behind me. Snuffling and sniffling and filling my nostrils with the scent of his recently digested Babybel.
‘Pokémon’ he says to me while snorting. ‘Pokémon, Pikachu, Evolee, Snorlax, Pokémon’
This gibberish meant nothing to me four days ago but now I understand. I wearily get to my feet, forcing thing Two’s claw-like hand off my arm, where it leaves fresh marks.
‘Pokémon’ I nod to him and, reaching up, get him down his pack of cards.
‘Pokémon!’ he squeals excitedly, a string of drool hanging from his lip. ‘Pokémon! Pikachu, Evolee, Snorlax, Mewtwo!’.
He waves me away, my services no longer required.
‘Crisps! Drink!’ comes the command from the sofa, and I scuttle away to do Thing Two’s bidding.
I firmly believe that is I did not aid in the entertaining and feeding of them, they would kill me during the night.
Four days.
How can four days feel so long?
Diary Excerpt Of Phil, Father of two
18 Wednesday Mar 2020
Posted in in the news
Tags
Corona, Environment, exercise, Family, France, French, Journalism, Law, Life, News, Relationships, Running, Virus
It all seemed like a joke not so long ago. Like last Friday maybe. This Corona Virus malarkey wasn’t serious really, was it? I mean sure, people were dying, but they were few and far, far away. But then it was in the UK, and Italy.
And then it was here, in France.
Then President Macron took to the air and announced that we were at war with a virus. And suddenly it was all to real, and not funny anymore. Not in the slightest.
New measures were announced to combat this threat, avoid contact with other people, wash frequently, don’t panic buy (good luck with that one!) but the main one was that we must stay in our homes unless absolutely necessary. Meaning, effectively, that we are all locked down in our own homes with our loved ones and, if we do leave the house, we need to fill out and sign a form in case a police man sees and stops us (if you don’t have your note then you face a hefty fine).
So far since the new regime has been implemented I have been out once (I mean, you can still go out in your garden, but I’m talking about a bit further afield). I went for a run yesterday for about forty minutes, running all around my town. I did of course ensure that I had my ‘permission slip’ with me: ‘Dear Mr Policeman, I am running outdoors as I need to exercise and get away from my kids otherwise I will go mad‘ was bizarrely NOT one of the possible justifications for leaving your domicile.
It was strange. So quiet.
In some respects this is no different from normal days/evenings when I run. The French are a very ‘insular’ people, and I have likened them to trap-door spiders in the past (in a loving way of course). They pop out, do their thing – be that working, shopping etc. – and then they head back indoors and effectively don’t leave until the next day. That’s why when I run I generally don’t see many people. This is a marked contrast for someone who comes from the UK, where you could go for a run through a much smaller town and see dozens and dozens of people milling around.
There are no off-licenses or late-opening corner shops, very, very few take-aways and pubs are less frequent, so I think this does have an impact on that kind of social mobility. I prefer it, if I’m being honest. The amount of drunken people rolling around English towns as a result of these alcohol-selling shops, and the other obesity-issue related to convenience food is not something I miss.
But I digress.
So I went for a run and I did see some people, but every single one of them moved out of my way as I approached. And I’m not saying I ran near them. Many times I was about four meters away (the recommended safe distance is one meter), yet still they moved.
So it’s quiet, which is not unusual. But it’s the atmosphere in the air that’s so different. There’s almost a fear. A sense of dread that you can taste.
There’s also a very real sense of horse manure and cow dung in the air too, but that’s because I run past a farmer’s field on my circuit.
I’ll report back on what it’s like indoors in another blog, as we are all still settling into this new lifestyle.
But one thing’s for sure – we are living in interesting times…
11 Wednesday Mar 2020
Posted in kids
Tags
Burning, Environment, Family, Fire, fun, funny, Humor, kids, Relationships
This is actually what out fire-pit looks like, albeit a tad rustier now.
I like to burn stuff. There. I’ve said it. And now that I’ve said it I’d probably better explain myself lest you think you are reading True Confessions Of A Pyromaniac, and not some blog by some bloke in France with a couple of kids.
I like to burn household waste when it builds up. And garden waste. And wood. And just stuff that burns. But not buildings or people. See? I’m normal, just like you.
We buy a lot of items for our house as we have only been in it a couple of years and so are still making it ‘ours’. This leads to a build-up of boxes in our outdoor dependences (outbuildings we store all our garden stuff in). We do generally take this to our local decheterie (that’s French for ‘tip’) so they can recycle it. However sometimes I don’t want to do that and instead want to tear it up into little bits and burn it in our fire-pit.
I know, I know. This is not necessarily ‘Option A’ when it comes to caring for the environment, and I doubt Greta Thunberg would approve, but I don’t like her so I don’t care. Put it down to my primal nature and giving into the instincts handed down to me from my ancestors, who would huddle in caves and stay warm by their fires, with one eye on the entrance, fearful of predators.
That plus it’s a drag going to the decheterrie all the time. The French DO NOT do organisation so you’re looking at an hour of ‘fun’ sat in your car while they work out how to get their rubbish out of their cars and into a large metal box.
Anyway, onto the thrust of this blog: I’m not alone in my gleeful burning, my daughter loves it too. Every time I mention that the cardboard pile is getting a bit high her eyes light up, as if she senses what will have to happen. And if I say I’m going to take it all to the tip, she kind of makes a deflated ‘Hooooaauuawwwwww‘ noise and then follows this up with words like ‘Nul‘ (which is French for ‘boring‘) and ‘Boring‘ (which is English for ‘Nul‘).
But If I say I’m going to burn it all she’s right by my side ‘Can I help you?’ she offers sweetly, rubbing her hands in anticipation, knowing I won’t say no. Of course I accept her offer and off we go, breaking the boxes down and – carefully – inserting them into the fire-pit. She is always under my watchful eye, and she is always respectful of the dangers of the fire. There’s no flies on this one.
It’s a lovely little habit we have, and there’s nothing quite like sitting in the garden on a cold evening, leaning back on the bench holding hands and looking up at the stars while the fire gently crackles away. It’s these little moments, these little habits that you have to treasure and hold on to.
Mr Mum: The 'joy' of a stay-at-home dad 