francofiled

Quand mon verre est vide, je le plains, Quand mon verre est plein, je le vide.     Raoul PONCHON I have always loved this simple jeu de mots , word play. Literally it means that when my glass is empty I feel sorry about that. When it's full, I empty it. Within moderation of course.

There are reports that domestic abuse in France has risen by almost one third in these times of confinement. Sadly, that is probably the case in other countries. Stop. For good! Love doesn't equal death. l’amour n’égale pas la mort

Hands rough with weeding. Cooling bubbles. Ça s'arrose !

Want one of these!  A French friend brought one of these back from Nice for her young son. He had such fun with it. A mechanical cicada that makes that nostalgic sound characteristic of warm summer evenings in the south of France. She told me that it was available online and I placed an order.  Full of expectation that with some bright lights, a bunch of lavender and a glass of pastis...that winter would be that little bit shorter. Ah, not to be. Yes the cicada arrived but not at all the mechanical version I was expecting. Something of much poorer quality. The other cicada's lavender is always bluer.

So very pleased to have been part of this...

An ambling ambition This was supposed to be a leisurely trip to Amboise.  An ambling ambition. The idea was that we would get a late morning train for Amboise and visit the château. It's within easy reach of Tours where we were staying and that leisure time would include a snack at the Mie Caline outlet close to the station. Sure enough wrapped around a bacon and cheddar filled baguette everything seemed to be going swimmingly. As often before on this trip, I had used the very useful OUI.sncf app to buy two tickets, located the train and boarded with ease. The train was quiet and comfortable and tempted with the strong wifi I got involved in some catch-up messaging. Mistake! Starting to feel drowsy, I closed my eyes. Yes, I had been aware that the train had stopped but since it seemed we had only just left I paid no attention.  Rousing a little later P. remarked that she had seen a château en passant and I figured perhaps that was Chenonceau.  However looki...

The direct flight from Belfast to Bordeaux was a relaxing journey. In fact it was so relaxing that we didn't hurry ourselves off the plane which meant that we were among the last to go through passport control and into the baggage reclaim area. It seemed unusually quiet and I noticed that not only was the tapis  no longer rolling but our bags were nowhere to be seen. Language in the baggage area Now since one of the main ideas behind this trip was to brush up on my French I went with the flow and decided to ask some of the customs and security personnel for help. They directed me to a phone and I explained to a sympathetic member of ground crew staff that our bags were missing. She invited me to come over to another section of the airport to fill in the necessary paperwork. I did notice one bag still left on the rolling carpet but it wasn't ours. The Belfast sign went out. What if the bags had been placed on another rack.  Sure enough, at the back of the baggage area we...