Geezer update

We heard they were coming back at 7am this morning, but the entire day was geezer free.  We did notice that there was a Portugal-Germany football match on TV which may or may not be relevant.

I'm a bit famous today

I'm in the regional press, at last, I'm someone!

I'm stopped in the street by everyone at school because I'm in the regional press, hooray!  The photo's not too bad, but I wish I'd said I was 52.

I got accosted by a journalist in the middle of a pedestrian crossing.  He wanted me to tell him three things I liked about living in our region.    I told him he was asking the wrong person, that I'm only here because I married a Frenchman and I want to go home.  He was most insistent that I find three things I liked so I asked if we could get off the pedestrian crossing first.    One of the things I find most irritating on a daily basis about living in the Paris suburbs is the wretched behaviour of the French on pedestrian crossings, the list is long:  standing expectantly carrying a small dog and having no intention of crossing, chatting in groups on the edge,  parking buses and lorries upon them,  dashing out from behind the aforementioned parked buses and lorries shaking fists, and for motorists, not stopping at them.  Where was I?  Oh yes, so I said I liked the international life, choice in education as the French Education system often does not suit the English (understatement of the year) and the nearby ecological riverside developement.

Well, he printed none of that needless to say.  He said I liked our school because the children could do intensive English which they don't, so thank goodness I'm not famous and can remain in my own little world where truth resides.

The Shocking Truth - Flasher at Perceval Carnival

We enjoy the scaffolding

Non Violent Communication

After a particularly bitter struggle at the orthodentist, after which Dr Cure-all did manage to find a cancellation after all and was able make an appointment to take B's braces out on Friday rather than in September, but all this at some cost to my personal aplomb, I have taken a decision.

"I'm going to do a non-violent communication course in French"  I announced to my family at the table.

R and JC raised their eyebrows and B said  "But it wouldn't be you".

They know me, at the mere mention of the phrase "non-violent" I can feel my inner Obelix taking over.

" I need to learn non-violent communication techniques in order to better defend myself from people who use them as a weapon against me"

"Yes, good idea"  said JC, back from a hard day at the office

B understands my struggle, he gave me a very good observational feedback on Dr Cure-all's non-violent interuption, accusation and computer generated lying technique.   It's so nice, after fifteen years in France to have somebody who understands.  Going home together on the metro, B said :  "You should tell him:  STOP, are you listening to me?  Repeat what I just said!   He wouldn't have been able to tell you, every time you opened your mouth he talked over you".  When I asked B where he learned that technique he said all the teachers at school do it. Well there you go.   At a recent meeting with R's teacher he talked over me throughout, and must have thought I was a right fool not to counter with the STOP are you listening to me? technique.  Round one to him and serves me right for not sharpening my dagger.

I wonder how the non-violent communication people will respond, in a non-violent way,  to my statement of motivation.    It's quite a teaser isn't it?   I think maybe I need to do some past life aggression therapy first...

The Geezers are Back

Ravaged scarred grey and grizzly

The Geezers are back.  


The ravaged scarred grey and grizzly face of our house is having cosmetic surgery.  


The inevitable geezer van blocks the drive.  

The Inevitable Geezer Van

The Head Geezer has twinkly blue eyes, a cigarette nub in his mouth, a back to front baseball cap with "Portugal" written on it, a lovely big tummy, trusty legs, and is deeply tanned and lightly rendered all over.  After the briefest of introductions he sends forth his band of under-geezers:  sons, cousins, nephews and friends of sons and cousins and nephews and their cousins and nephews.    Geezers bring everything which I lack on the physical plane:  structure, strength and speed.  

View from landing window

Geezer leg at kitchen window

Geezers in the Woods

Within seconds scaffolding is up and the geezers swarm the walls:   they remove our shutters, sand the wood and metal, tape up the windows, and paint the entire house with a mustard coloured undercoat.

The mustard coloured undercoat...

The next day dawns grey and dry.  "Don't draw the curtains!" I say to JC  "There might be a geezer out there looking in ".   But alas, the geezers have all melted away we know not where, like the little folk...


I know from experience the only way to deal with this is:  accept that your mustard streaked house will have scaffolding and no shutters for the rest of your life and that you never know when you will wake up and find a geezer looking in at the window.