Time to Kill and other stuff

Time to kill

There‘s no doubt about it, when you move to another country there are elements of the local culture which take some getting used to. France, of course, is no exception. Double-parking outside the Boulangerie or the Tabac; not indicating on roundabouts and driving all the way around the outside of them; parking on roundabouts; surly and unhelpful shop assistants; the sudden disappearance - for weeks on end – from supermarket shelves of staple items; the inordinate length of time necessary to complete relatively minor road-works are among many things we’ve had to adjust to since we moved here but, except on bad days, we cope with them quite well now. However, there is one difference in particular that we, well at least Mr A, has not been able to adjust to: NOTHING starts on time.

Take last Friday as an example. We decided we’d go to a concert given by a Ukulele Swing Jazz Band. The concert was advertised to start at 8.30 pm. When did it start? At 9.10 pm. This is quite normal. In fact, our French friends often ask us if we’ve become used to ‘Le petit quart d’heure Creusois’ or ‘Le petit quart d’heure Limousin’ (the little Creuse/Limousin ¼ hour), their way of referring to the fact that nothing starts less than 15 minutes later than advertised. Well the answer, at least in Mr A’s case, is a resounding ‘No!’

Mr A, of course, is a well-known fighter of lost causes, a sort of modern King Canute who is unable to recognise that the considerable force of his will cannot change the ingrained habits of thousands of people. He therefore burns hundreds of calories and raises his blood-pressure pointlessly by fuming when a film starts late because people are still arriving, or when he has to sit in an uncomfortable and stiflingly hot/freezing cold church waiting for a concert to start.

‘Don’t people realise’, he is wont to rant, ‘that as long as they hold up the start for the late-comers, people will never learn to arrive on time?’

And as his words just melt into the air, Mrs A gives a little sigh and wonders how many more times in her life she’ll have to listen to this.

Migrants

They’re off. For the last couple of weeks the cranes have been flying overhead, heading towards North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula. It’s always a wonderful sight but, of course, it heralds the cold days of winter. They’ll be back in February though.

A load of old bull

Mr A and Miss A encountered this fine figure of a Charolais bull when walking recently. Doesn’t he look friendly?

Nuts

Mrs A was amused to find some hazelnuts and nesting material in one of her hiking boots in the barn the other day. We doubt if this little visitor was the culprit but it would have been something equally furry and cute.