Spoilsports

Governments eh! What are they like? They just can't seem to cope with the electorate enjoying itself.

Back in the UK, the ban on smoking in public places came into force on Sunday. From 2008, a similar ban will come into force in France. You see what I mean? The wholly innocent pleasures of sitting in a pub, staining the ceiling and your lungs brown and making sure that your clothes and hair, as well as those of all present, reek of smoke are now deemed unacceptable by our over-centralised, po-faced, Governments. As people are wont to say, 'They've done this off their own back. It's the nanny state gone mad. It's all part and parcel of modern life, and, without a doubt, rightly so. It mustn't be allowed to happen in any way, shape or form. At the end of the day, let's hope it's a damp squid.'

Worse than this outrageous attack on people's human right to smoke is the French Government's attempt to make car journeys much less interesting. At present, all private cars have a number-plate on which the final two digits identify the Departement (county) the car comes from. As well as providing a useful tool for quasi academic research, e.g. how many Creusois, the people of our 'middle-of-nowhere' departement, ever widen their horizons by travelling, and of giving you some idea where you are (the majority of the cars you see carry '43'? You're probably somewhere near St Etienne.) it also provides the means for hurling much more inventive abuse at drivers who upset you on the road. 'Stupid berk' (if you'll pardon the rather extreme language) can be replaced by 'Stupid Breton berk' or 'Just what you'd expect from some sun-addled nit-wit from the Côte d'Azur'. I think you'll agree that these more specific forms of words are just so much more cutting.

The official reason for this measure is, unusually for France, to reduce bureaucracy. Currently, if you move from one departement to another you have to re-register the car. This provides loads of jobs, and opportunities to be unthinkingly officious, to the vast army of 'fonctionnaires' (civil servants. Roughly one in four people in work in France work for the Government.) However, I suspect a different motive.

To say that Parisiens are unpopular might be a world record-breaking understatement. Their perceived arrogance and 'flashness' is a constant irritant to those outside the 'Ile de France' region. Believe me, if you thought my examples of the invective which might be directed towards those from St Malo or Nice were shockingly harsh, you should hear some of the stuff hurled at those bearing the tell-tale '75' on their number-plates. The driver of the Twingo parked next to the Scenic registered in the Creuse (above) probably had to wait until dark to return to the car.

From 1 January 2008, the requirement to have the departmental numeric code on the number-plate will be removed for new registrations, although individuals may add the code to the plate if they wish. In her book 'Journey to the South', Annie Hawes notes that in similar circumstances in Italy, voluntary declaration became the norm. The question here is whether Parisiens will volunteer. And if they don't, will everyone without the code on their plates be assumed to be Parisien and have to suffer the consequences? We shall see.


Postman Pat




Cars such as this one are reasonably commonplace in our neck of the woods. Despite what you might expect, they are not electric but diesel-powered. The typical engine size is 400cc and they are slooooow. Sixty kph (40 mph) seems to be about their top speed but since, oddly, many of them seem to be the transport of choice of enormously fat people, they usually only reach those speeds going downhill. I call them 'Postman Pat' cars, not because they are all red - they come in a variety of colours - but because they are not much bigger than the 'Postman Pat' rides kids love in supermarkets.

More Beasties



Further examples of our local wildlife. Note that the shrew is hunting in quite small-calibre gravel. That gives you an idea of how tiny it was.