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Tag Archives: France
Foot in the crosshairs ……… fire!
Right, you lot. You can stop looking forward to that nice holiday you planned to spend showing friends round your favourite French ski resort. Don’t you realise that what you’re doing is horrifically dangerous? Really, how could you possibly imagine … Continue reading
Gardening in the litter box
Having burnt my legs in the extensive ornamental jardins of the parental chateau last time there was a bank holiday weekend, I find myself coveting a garden of my own. Or more likely the idea of a garden if I’m … Continue reading
Nothing to lose but your chains
The middle of Les Menuires in February seems an unlikely place for a sit-in, if only because sitting in rather precludes getting out on skis. Seasonnaires aren’t generally the most militant of groups either, being chosen for their laid beck … Continue reading
Mummy, can I take the bubble wrap off now?
Interseason is holiday time, and once again rather than heading for the exotics we find ourselves back in Blighty, this time driving round Wolverhampton on a Saturday afternoon when the local footy team is playing at home, looking for a … Continue reading
Absolutely marvellous! Or not.
It’s a strange fact that people rarely visit tourist attractions when said sites are just next door and require minimal time, effort and expense, when on the other hand they’ll go to great lengths and fork over wedges of cash … Continue reading
Alpine Graffiti
Living as we do in the rural backwhacks of beyond, we remain largely oblivious to much of what is reputed to blight modern life, although with Grenoble a mere 40 minutes away, those of us who really want Kalashnikov-toting youth … Continue reading
In my day this was all fields
Edward Whymper, illustrator, pioneering mountaineer and all-round general nutcase did us the honour of a quick visit here in the Oisans in the 1860s (taking a little light relief from trying to kill himself on the Matterhorn) and set the … Continue reading
Ich bin ein tarte tatin
Well Zut Alors, pass the snails and break out the Pastis, I seem to be French. Yes, finally the bureaucratic machine has satisfied itself that I might just about be appropriately Gallic enough and has graciously condescended to admit me … Continue reading
Once more unto the bureaucratic breach
As if a disintegrated vertebra wasn’t enough to deal with, JC’s annual end of term accident throws us back into the maelstrom of French administration, with its arbitrary video game rules. Joy, another spring interseason spent leaping over fiery pits … Continue reading
End of season Groundhog Day
So, just as I thought it was more or less safe to book a holiday for the end of May I get a call from the resort medical centre. ‘Mrs Gimblett? We’ve got your husband here …’. I was tempted … Continue reading
