Boadicea's Chariot

Today France will have its first round of elections to evict Sarkozy from the Elysee, umm, I mean, elect its president. Sarkozy, initially elected only by a moderate margin, has managed the task of making himself the most unpopular president in French history. For a country that has challenged, with some success, the United States for most inept leadership, this is no mean feat.

Sarkozy, my French friends advise me, will not be missed. His style, more suited to Dallas or Miami than Toulouse or Bordeaux, has grated on the collective French nerve.
It seems that the election will not be fought so much on ideas and politics as it will be on the man. That a man who was described by Chirac as a “pup” and “less known that Mitterrand’s Labrador” will almost certainly be France’s next president can be explained no other way.

What is disheartening is that Hollande’s platform, if carried out, would be disastrous for France. Continue reading “La France Vétuste”

There is today an article in the DT, (right at the bottom) on bathrooms in pictorial format.

Apart from noting the appalling vulgarity of most of them and their suitability only for oligarchs, nabobs and third world dictators, not forgetting British politicians and wankers, sorry bankers; on further examination I noted some rather disturbing details.

It must be that the above categories of creatures, not being truly mortal, do not defecate!  In many of the pictures there is no provision made for bog paper!  Or do they have slaves on standby to wipe their arses?

Equally after they have showered or bathed there appears to be no provision for a towel, do they shake dry like a dog?  Do the peasant come and lick them dry? Not only is there no provision for a towel but no storage for clean ones either.

Another consideration, is no one in their households either old or disabled? Not a grab bar in sight, what do they do with these sad remnants of humanity?  Bang them on the head, so as not to disturb the decor?

The final horror of it all is that many of these pinnacles of bad taste have been created within Georgian houses according to the realtors!  Can you imagine butchering a Georgian house to produce this anathema to good taste?

A final comforting thought, most of these excrescences are created with no curtains and no opaque glass, one can only hope that the new owners are picked off by snipers, they deserve to be!

Sorry no linky thing.

I do not like to hog the front page after my recent post, but I have just heard a bit of sad news. Bert Weedon has died at the good old age of 91. I learnt to play the guitar from his book Play in a Day many (far too many) years ago..

Rather more importantly, the likes of Eric Clapton, Hank Marvin, Brian May and many other luminaries of the guitar world also learned to play from his book. Just swap that harp for a Stratocaster, Bert!

Our first cut of asparagus for dinner tonight, with fresh broccoli from the garden with a bacon wrapped chicken breast.

To celebrate I made a sabayon and converted it into a light tarragon and lemon flavoured hollandaise.for the veg.

Wonderful, to die for, food of the Gods!  You can stick those bloody pizzas and chocolate bars in a very dark place!  We shall now be forced to eat vast quantities of asparagus to keep up with the bed which is now seven years old and in top notch production.  I am seriously going to miss that bed when we move.  No doubt it will be wrecked within a year by some bloody peasant.  I shall make a point of never driving down this road again or else I might well invade and dish out a few pieces of my mind when the garden goes to wrack and ruin.  I am now in the throes of deciding which plants should be saved from such a dreadful fate as new idiot ownership.  Too many round here garden with a JCB!

Sad.

It’s been heart-warming to read (now that I can read again) all your good wishes and remarks, and it’s about time that I thanked you, individually and as a group, for your support and encouragement.

Thanks!!

Six weeks and a day ago, someone turned my lights off – put my processor into hibernate and pulled the plug.   That was the last I knew until about two weeks ago, when it began to occur to me that I was a person tucked up in an intensive care ward, that the wonderful caring person who helped look after me each day was in fact my angel of a wife – Boadicea, and that it was time for me to fire up the backups, reboot my software, engage the language routines and start behaving like a human again.   It took a couple of days to get going, but, touch wood and whistle, it’s been upwards ever since.

So, a week ago tomorrow I was released to continue my recuperation at home.   I am indebted to the paramedics and ambos who took me safely and swiftly to the emergency theatre; to the doctors and surgeons of the team who spent three hours reconstructing my cranium, and to the nurses and specialist technicians who kept me functioning while I was away with the fairies in cyber, hyperspace where time has no meaning.   To my GP and all the other experts who did their essential best.   Thank you all.

I’ll spare you the details – and I’d probably get them wrong – but if you met me you’d probably be hard pushed to detect anything wrong (though there are still a few things that have yet to put themselves right).   Perhaps I’m a little more polite and tolerant than I used to be, and readier to acknowledge other people’s point of view, but there again, perhaps I’m not.

Best wishes to all Charioteers. 😀