What do you wear to the Monaco Grand Prix?

Tonight Mr Piglet and I are off to watch the trials at the Monaco Grand Prix. It’s a work do so we’re not paying for anything (and hence why we’re going!) and I’m really looking forward to it.

We’ll be leaving Little Piglet for the first time ever with her French grandparents and she’ll even be going to a French nursery with my Mother In Law tomorrow. I’ve never left her overnight before and am already feeling nervous…

… but not as nervous as about what to wear to the Monaco Grand Prix!!

A little search on line led me to this page on Pinterest:

I certainly don’t have anything remotely like these clothes and definitely don’t have the figure to pull them off.

I had imagined myself dressed casually but elegantly, probably a bit like this:

However, a quick look through my wardrobe reveals
- NO clothes that fit me and that even faintly look like anything shown here
- NO time to order anything online (I leave tonight)
- NO shoes that fit which could be worn with such an outfit anyway. Since pregnancy my feet have never gone back to their size 41 (yup big feet) and I am now a size 42 which rules out shoe shopping for me in France.

So I’ll probably go in my black kit; black trousers, black top, black throw-over, black sandals and black sunglasses. Nothing quite like that depressing feeling you get when you realise that you are a frump and only have frump clothes left in your wardrobe.

If you’ve had a baby, gained weight and have ever felt frumpy, please share any tips that you may have to help add a bit of glamour to my outfit!

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Some Nooky

In my last post I mentioned I was worrying about school and that I was learning that a parent never stops worrying.

Now I am worrying what English I am teaching Little Piglet. For the moment she only says the odd word in English and French and thankfully she hasn’t said any swear words yet.

But today I realised my English is so rusty that I say some pretty weird stuff and I really need to work on my vocabulary.

Since my husband launched his estate agency last, I have been helping out where I can and quite enjoying myself especially as I used to work in property.

Today I was showing some English speaking clients around and was keen to point out a properties features. Arriving in a room, I pointed to the corner and stated “that’s the nooky cupboard”. My clients burst in to laughter and I was the none the wiser, I thought they weren’t keen on the decoration but couldn’t see anything wrong with it myself other than maybe the colour which honestly wasn’t that bad.

Outside the room, the lady pulled me to a side and quietly told me what “nooky” meant and that maybe I meant “nook and cranny”? She was still in stitches and I was too as soon as I realised the error I had made!

Thankfully these people told me what I had said wrong, but what about all the people in French and in English who have a laugh at my expense and I’m none the wiser?

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Strawberry bed looks promising…

Now we just need some sun and warm weather (and maybe a natural solution to ward off the slugs)…

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Little Piglet turned two…

On the 28th April she blew out two candles. I still can’t believe she is two and am somewhat on denial.

Somehow we’ve progressed from me worrying about her not drinking enough milk to where she’s going to be going to school. Yes. School.

In our part of rural France we don’t have any International schools or Montessori schools and I’m somewhat dubious about the French eduction system and their uncanny ability to break a childs spirit, churning out thousands of carbon copy mini adults all aspiring to be French civil servants.

When I watch my daughters creativity, her talent as an actrice and her ability to get her own way, I see a talented individual where others may see an unruly child.

Maybe I’m looking through rose tinted glasses or maybe not but either way I had fobbed off the school question for sometime as there was no way that she could go if she wasnt potty trained. But here’s the thing: she trained herself one week before her first birthday and is now clean all day long. So the school question is back on and I’ve learned that you need to enroll really early to get a good one which I’m way behind on.

I’m not bothered about her being in the besf school, I’m more bothered about her being allowed to grow and develop naturally but now I’m beginning to get stressed.

They say as a parent you never stop worrying and boy is that true.

How did you cope with the school situation and at what age did your little one (s) start?

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La Fête des Voisins

Last Saturday we were invited to a neighourbood get together La Fête des Voisins
which literally means neighbourhood party. This is a traditional get together which takes place all across France albeit later in May generally.

When living in Lyon, this was the type of get together that I’d watch on the television but never see or even hear about in real life, so when we got a note through the letter box some weeks ago I was delighted.

Since moving to the French countryside I’ve not really met that many people and have remained in close contact with my Lyon based friends. It can be quite a lonely existence but the friends I have made more than make up for quantity in quality.

It’s said here that people are wary of foreigners and when I say foreigners, I don’t mean people from other countries but people from other parts of France! So I guess I am a super dooper foreigner for people in these parts!

Anyway, back to La Fête des Voisins. We’d been invited to Chez Gael which was one of our neighbours although I didn’t have a clue which one or where they lived. Our neighbourhood is quite extensive and to walk round it takes me 35 minutes and there aren’t that many houses.

I managed to locate the house quite easily last Saturday by walking down the lane whilst pushing Little Piglet (yes, I’ve decided on a name). I couldn’t but notice the huge marquees outside a house at the top of the hill, so I was guessing that either the party was there or I’d be gate crashing someone’s wedding reception… Thankfully upon arrival my destination was confirmed as being the correct place! Ouf!

I’d been told to bring along something for the aperitif or for dessert and in Mr Piglet’s absence (he was working) I took a long a bottle of white and some crisps. Good job I had Little Piglet in her pushchair as I was confronted with lots of home made specialties from the other guests making my offering look very basic. Little Piglet’s presence more than made up my lack of food however as everyone cooed over her, saying how gracious she is.

Eventually Mr Piglet turned up and it was great meeting all the people who live nearby. It was frequently commented how people were glad that the previous owners had gone and how they were very cold and snubbed people. We chatted and met so many people, I can only remember their faces not their names or where they live so it’s going to be fun over the next few months working out where everyone lives and checking out their names on their letter boxes.

I even met a lady who grew up in our house, it belonged to her great grandmother and her bedroom was Little Piglet’s room! She is very fond of the house and hopefully she’ll accept my invitation to drop in for coffee one day and tell me more about the house and how it was before it was renovated.

After a while the heavens opened and as Mr Piglet had returned to work and I hadn’t the foresight to bring an umbrella or rain cover I was kind of stuck, baby in tow and wondering when the rain would stop so I could run home. General debate amongst the neighbours decided that it wasn’t wise for me to run home in the wet so a car was arranged and a kind soul (the retired village Doctor!) drove us home.

We were made to feel truly welcome and it felt great to finally meet up with our neighbours and it feels even better to be able to greet them when I’m out on a stroll or working in the garden.

Vive La Fête des voisins !

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My A – Z of France: B is for… Beaujolais

Beaujolais is more than just a wine. It is a beautiful area full of architectural delights, rolling hills and vineyards and is within easy driving distance of Lyon.

Image from Wikipedia

Often mocked for its inferior quality wine, the Beaujolais is a beautiful region and does actually have some perfectly nice drinking wines.

Did you know that white Beaujolais wines can sometimes qualify for the renowned Burgundy appellation? Some of the white wines are that good that people will happily drink them believing them to be Burgundy when in fact they are just good old Beaujolais!

Aside from the wine, what I love most about the Beaujolais is the community spirit and the scenery.

Old houses are often built from a remarkable golden stone and when the sun catches the stone it actually looks as if they are made from gold. Property is quite expensive there due to its proximity to Lyon which is a shame as it means that it is an area that many tourists or foreign property hunters ignore.

Some of Mr Piglet’s family have lived in the Beaujolais for years and Mr Piglet even lived there himself for a while.

My first initiation with Beaujolais life was whilst celebrating Beaujolais Nouveau on the third Thursday of November. We had been invited by Mr Piglet’s uncle who is a part time winemaker for the unveiling of his Beaujolais Nouveau. Mr Piglet didn’t give me any forewarning that the wine tasting would turn into an all night party!

The Beaujolais Nouveau has arrived!

After tasting his wine, we were carted off to the neighbours to taste their wine and so it went on. On foot we trekked from house to house and Mr Piglet was running wild buying bottles and bottles of all different wines wherever we went promising to stop by the next day to collect. I realized that Mr Piglet who was supposed to be driving was definitely over the limit so begged his Aunt to let us stay the night.

Worse for wear...

What I liked most about it was that it wasn’t youngsters running amok whilst drunk like you would expect in the UK maybe. The atmosphere was jovial and youngsters, families and the old of age were all mixing together, socializing and enjoying some good old plonk, saucisson soaked in wine and various other specialties.

Party in the cellar

All in all the Beaujolais has a lot to offer and is definitely worth checking out. Maybe I’ll chose to share some of my other stories about time spent there soon…

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My A – Z of France: A is for… Assurance Maladie

This is France as I see it… It’s not meant to be an official guide and it’s only my opinion on some of the things that make France “France” for me.

A is for Assurance Maladie

Assurance Maladie literally means illness insurance and is essential here.

France has an excellent healthcare cover so long as you are employed, retired, on benefits or contribute as a self employed person. I’m sure there are some exceptions to that like for housewives etc but knowing France maybe they’re not covered?

As an employee or self employed person you contribute heavily into the black hole which is the “secu”. Why a black hole? Well, the healthcare system has tremendous debt and on top of your contributions anyone earning income from assets also pays a further tax to help remedy the black hole. Eversince I have lived in France the black hole has existed and somehow it just keeps getting bigger.

Maybe one of the reasons is the huge number of pills the French pop for the slightest ailment. Go to the Doctors with a common cold and you’ll come out with a prescription a page long for various medicines (probably including parecetmol, saline water etc). Most of these remedies will be paid for by the state medical cover, the majority will be reimbursed to you at 70%. Cost for a cold? 23 Euros for a Doctors appointment plus at least 15 Euros in medication!

I’m digressing. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that occurred around the birth of Baby Piglet, I do appreciate the French healthcare system. You have access to top Doctors as soon as you can convince the secretary to give you an appointment and emergency care is excellent (depending on where you go obviously).

When I had uveitis at the end of 2011, the total bill for my medical care came in at over 6000 Euros. This didn’t include the taxi I took every day to and from the hospital (100 Euros each way) or the laser eye surgery I had afterwards (not sure how much that cost). Thankfully because my illness is recognised by the state as being a long term affection I didn’t have to pay a penny. Not even for the taxi.

Suddenly all those heavy contributions seem well worth it. I cannot think of a better country in which to be ill, so long as you have cover of course. I am grateful for the French medical system and in awe that it’s still running as it is despite the incredible waste of funds.

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License to kill? Danger on French roads.

One of the most annoying things I find about driving in France is the fact that you don’t actually need to have a driving license to be on the road. “What?!” I hear you say. Well, if you want to drive a normal car and actually get anywhere in a normal time then yes, you need a license, but if somehow you’ve not managed to pass your test or have had your license taken away from you then you can drive one of these:

If you see a car like this be sure to give it a wide berth

Or if that one is a bit to basic how about one of these?

If the first one is too basic how about a nice little convertible?

That’s right, you can still have a car, albeit one that allows you to drive without a license. If you’ve had your license taken away from you say for drink driving, well you can still legally be on the road, drunk and ready to hit a pedestrian, a tree or another car!

This bewilders me. Surely there is a valid reason as to why these people do not have a license?

When I was living in Lyon I had a couple of close calls with these fake cars as I call them. One tried to plough me down on a pedestrian crossing and another carved me up.

Now that I’m living in the countryside it is frequent that I get stuck behind one or have to swerve to miss one. They dawdle at no more than 60 kmh (I think) which is still plenty fast enough to cause damage. Their owners rarely seem to care about other drivers. Indicators? What are they for? Right hand side of the road? No, they can frequently be seen around here wobbling all over the road.

Of course, they are a good method of transport offering independence to those that don’t (or no longer have) a license but to the rest of us they are menace. If they hit a child the consequences could still be fatal.

What to you think? Danger or transport solution?

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A morning out in Morestel

It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a year now since I moved out of our Villeurbanne loft, had a baby and moved to the French countryside. The trials and tribulations of the house purchase have become a distant memory and yet I hadn’t even started exploring the local area until this weekend (apart from a trip or two to the lake for lunch and a swim).

Sunday morning, we awoke to beautiful sunshine, it was cold but sunny. After the Arctic weather spell, cabin fever had set in and I was itching to get out and explore. Mr Piglet had told me about Morestel and over breakfast he happened to mention that one of his clients had sung the praises of the market.

Baby Piglet still loves her naps so any exploring needs to be done pretty much between nap times so within half an hour we were all dressed ready to go.

It took about 20 minutes to get there from here, 20 minutes in which I saw the temperature drop from 8 degrees to 3 degrees and the sun be replaced by fog. Great!

When we arrived the market was immersed in fog which enabled me to take a few unusual pictures, including one where the church (high above the town) looked like it was surreal.

Submerged in fog

Church

Morestel is an old painters town and was home to François-Auguste RAVIER. His home is now a gallery which is unfortunately closed until March. In fact, all of the galleries and arty shops are closed until then but we still had a nice walk around, exploring the market and taking pictures.

Ravier's House

Whilst at the market, we spotted some chickens, rabbits and guinea pigs. Baby Piglet had a great time looking at them, bewildered, scared and intrigued – all at the same time! I had a fun time watching the expressions cross her face and then she started talking to the birds!

After visiting the market and getting some fresh vegetables, we had a wander through the town and up to the old town. I had fun taking photos and the locals had fun staring at me! I love architecture so the ancient buildings and different eras were of much interest to me.

Castle

By the time we got back to the car Baby Piglet was fast asleep!

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Système Débrouille

In France there is a lovely term for finding temporary measures or for saving money on stuff known as “système débrouille”. I couldn’t find an exact definition of the expression but we recently experienced it in our own unique way.

Our Systeme D

As you know, we have been suffering from heating problems due to the extreme cold weather. Last Saturday our oil boiler decided it was going to work when it wanted to and I blogged about how we were literally freezing. Temperatures were as low as -20 degrees Celsius at night and on Monday our heating system packed up altogether. That meant no heating and no hot water!

Fortunately for us, a good friend had managed to get their neighbour to sell us some wood so we weren’t completely cold. Mr Piglet and I moved into the living room and the three of us huddled together in front of the fire.

Thankfully Baby Piglet goes to the Nannies during the day so I was comfortable that she was keeping warm. When at home she has an electric radiator in her room to keep her nice and warm.

On Tuesday disaster struck, Baby Piglet caught the dreaded gastro (tummy bug) and began projectile vomiting everywhere. At only 9 months old my poor, poor baby was very sick and I had no way of getting rid of the terrible odour that had invaded the house. I bathed her as best as I could using a flannel and a bowl of cooled down boiled water but by Wednesday afternoon desperation had sunk in.

I called my Mother in Law hoping that we could escape down to her house for a few days, as she answered the phone my hopes plummeted, she was sick with laryngitis! Not something I wanted her to give to Baby Piglet.
So I started calling on local plumbers and heating specialists.

Deep down I hoped that there was another issue with the boiler and that we would be able to get some heat. After numerous calls and being told that nothing was possible for days, I finally found a firm that prioritised families with young children. We were in luck!

The guy came out and spent a few hours looking at our boiler and concluded that it was definitely down to the frozen oil. I sighed, oh well, at least I had tried.

Later that evening after Baby Piglet had gone to bed and I was drinking wine in a bid to keep warm, my phone started ringing. It was the owner of the plumbing firm – he had a temporary solution to offer us! Systeme D!

At 9pm he rolled up and came in carrying two jerry cans full of car diesel. We watched, intrigued as he dismantled part of the boiler and sunk two tubes into the jerry can. He explained that this would keep us warm and allow us to have hot water and when we ran out, we’d just need to pop down to the petrol station. Even I could mannage that!

I’d heard of local farmer folk using red diesel to run their cars but not of anyone using car diesel to run their boiler! This was upside down, topsy turvy living. Systeme Debrouille in all it’s glory.

So the innovative plumber had found a temporary (if not expensive) solution to our coldness and I felt much better knowing that my darling daughter would be nice and warm.

Each jerry can costs 30 Euros to refill and the first one run out this morning but I think that was more to do with the fact that it had to re-heat everything back up.

Jerry Can!

I am so grateful to the plumber for not giving up on us and am so relieved that he found a solution for his, his innovation has made us warm and also proved that solidarity and good service from companies does exist.

I did have a chuckle as well as Mr Piglet was getting on well with him and they were chatting just like old friends and the apero (at 11pm mind you!) was being served. Mr Piglet asked what the Plumbers wife was doing and I just loved the Plumbers response: “she’s probably in bed” he sighed! Mr Piglet was asking in fact what she was doing in her life which is the literal translation from French, the information he was seeking is what profession she had!

Do you have any Systeme D experiences?

ps. I’m pleased to report that as of todat Baby Piglet seems to have recovered although she will only eat Strawberry yoghurts right now!

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