- “Scandaliser est un droit. Être scandalisé est un plaisir.” ― Pasolini, Pier Paolo
- RIP Natives
- Seasons in the (setting) sun
- It’s camping Jim, but not as we know it
- Foot in the crosshairs ……… fire!
- Ski gear for the worried well
- Caning the credit card
- Fashionista fail
- Ski scam of the week!
- I like to ride my bicycle …..
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Category Archives: French Life
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
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
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
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
After three abortive attempts to submit an application for citizenship to the French administrative machine, it appears that the relevant fonctionnaires have finally admitted that they suppose I might have a case. Previous supplications were rejected out of hand following … Continue reading
According to biblical myth Yahweh got a tad disgruntled with the builders of the tower of Babel on the grounds that “They are one people and have one language, and nothing will be withholden from them which they purpose to … Continue reading
The British like to beat themselves up about their ignorance of foreign languages – ooh it’s so rude, they tell you, usually looking not particularly ashamed of themselves, it has to be said. Actually it’s not that rude at all … Continue reading
My first proper grown-up job (actually the only proper grown-up job I’ve ever had, when I come to think about it) involved commuting from Southsea round the top of Portsmoth harbour and down into Gosport. In theory the trip should … Continue reading
Rural France is paradise, right? Everyone knows it. Your friends come back from the Dordgogne gîte at the end of every summer and bore you rigid droning on ad nauseam about the wonderful lifestyle, the cheap wine, the endless sunshine, … Continue reading