Adventures in Frenglish

Lucky, lucky, lucky

2009-11-06T20:33:00.004+01:00

A day or so after I last posted I put a load of laundry through and hung it out to dry.
On taking the laundry in and folding it ready to be put away I noticed that a gull had left a message on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

So I really should be a lucky lady as I've shaken hands with a sweep and had a bird poo on my laundry. Or perhaps it is only lucky if you are actually wearing your jumper?

Why is there a connection between poo and luck?

Is it lucky when the Baby C poos in the bath? Perhaps? At least luckier than her pooing on me. Or my laundry.

I should be so lucky

2009-10-08T19:31:00.003+02:00

We have been having an indian summer here in Devon, but last weekend I noticed that the trees in the park were losing their leaves and autumn was on its way.

Come the first of October the weather changed and we have had some proper misty and rainy days. Another sign of the season's change is that I saw a chimney sweep visiting a neighbour.
Anyone that has seen Mary Poppins knows that shaking a sweep's hand will bring you luck, so feeling in the need of some luck I duly shook the sweep's hand.

Later that day I noticed that I had rolled the pram through dog poo. Horrid, but who knows it is supposed to be lucky if a bird poos on you so perhaps rolling your buggy through dog poo is lucky too? Or perhaps it is just smelly and nasty.

Still I am hoping if it is just plain old bad luck then it doesn't cancel out the good luck my chimney sweep gave me.

Its a hard knock life

2009-10-02T22:07:00.006+02:00

I'm adjusting to lone parenthood and it seems you just keep doing what you've been doing. Looking after the child, doing the shopping, maintaining the home; everything you did before but now with a slightly different tint on it.

It is more often than not the small things that bring you up and bring you to tears.
Another form to fill in that asks your marital status - married, single, partner, divorced, widowed. I feel like adding my own box "dumped".

The frustration that to get a takeaway you have to wait two hours for delivery on a busy Friday but if there was someone to stay with the sleeping child you could go and collect it and have your supper in half an hour. So no takeaway and have an omlette instead.

Then of course there are the larger stresses.

That the benefits you need are held up because your child doesn't exist to this agency until they have a number from that agency, when that agency are within their eight week limit and can't tell you more than your form is being processed.

To have to explain to the estate agent that you will pay the rent but not until Monday as this when your benefits will be paid in, yes you know it is late but there is no more you can do.

But in all this you have your child and she is your joy every day. To watch her learning and developing day by day and moment by moment.

Cried and gone to Devon

2009-10-01T10:38:00.006+02:00

I do apologise for the quietness but I've been a little pre-occupied with moving house, again. Perhaps I could start a career in relocating, after all I've done it so much these last couple of years I should be pretty expert.

So here we are in Devon. Not without a few tears but also with some small measure of hope and optimisim.

Baby C and I are installed in our new home. And that is what it is, a home. Thanks to lots of help from family, friends, friends of friends, and the second hand merchants and charity shops of Devon.
I would particularly like to introduce you to the wonderful people that run Trade and Donate in Honiton. Their warehouse is full of all kinds of everything that you might want or need for the home. Thanks to them I have a comfy sofa, a cosy chair, a very pretty bedroom set and more. All sold, delivered and hefted about with a friendly smile as well as a good price.

The Devon Air Ambulance shop has also been a rather good source of bits and bobs.
All that is really left to do is to make up the soft furnishings to pretty the place up. After a month of mooching round the local fabric shops I still haven't decided on any fabric so this could take a while.

Happy Birthday Baby C

2009-08-30T09:41:00.003+02:00

Today is Baby C's birthday, a whole year old. Well she will be at 7.25 pm GMT.
It has been a busy year for her, aside from moving countries and living in three different houses she has also been busy with the never ending task of being a baby.

In the last 12 months she has mostly been occupied with the following;

Growing.
Feeding.
Sleeping - but not always when I would like or as long as I would like.
Growing hair.
Growing teeth - four so far.
Sitting up.
Rolling over.
Crawling.
Standing.
Learning to feed herself, messy but fun.
Making all kinds of sounds.
Learning to say Ma Ma, my favourite sound, other than the snuffling of her sleeping.
Trying to make friends with the cat by pulling her tail, not one of her most successful endeavours.
And generally being outstandingly cute, though obviously I am biased on that.

I look forward to the next 12 months with her and finding out what Baby C did next.

The Ministry of Frenchness

2009-08-28T14:48:00.004+02:00

For all the trials and tribulations it has been a blast living in France. After eight months I have come to the conclusion that there is a Ministry of Frenchness whose job it is to ensure that each town complies with a certain set of standards and maintains an appropriate amount of Frenchness.

Boulangerie per street quota - at least one on every other corner.
Baguette quotas - the number of people carrying a baguette under their arm must never fall below a critical mass.
Accordion quota - at least one busker per town per day, more on market days and fetes.
At least 90% of cars should be renault or citreon and at least 1% should be 2cvs or those citreon vans driven by farmers.

Should a town fall below these standards they run the risk of having their Frenchness revoked and their name removed from all tourism literature until such measures are in place to ensure standards are met.

And in these last months, despite my slow progress with the language, I have found myself turning native.
I now wear sunglasses in winter and summer.
I can carry a baguette under my arm with no hint of self-conciousness.
I have a scarf of some description with me at all times.
I no longer have a mop, I peg a floorcloth around the broom to clean the floor.
I no longer have a kettle, I use a pan to boil water.

Floor mops and kettles do exist in France, I've seen them in the supermarket, but we have got stuck without them. I shall be buying mop, bucket and kettle in England so that no-one can report me to the Ministry of Englishness.

If its not bling its blong

2009-08-26T20:05:00.003+02:00

In my last trip to England I bought a packet of these jewellery polishing cloths. I only recently got around to using them and they are fabulous, I now have lovely shiney earrings, necklaces and bangles, and a satisfyingly grubby cloth.

I do like a nice bit of bling and Baby C is showing signs of following in my footsteps as she can often be found modeling the plastic rings from her ring tower toy. Mind you her little arm soon fills up if she has more than two on. She really does rock the chunky accessory trend.

The post I forgot to give a title to

2009-08-15T16:50:00.003+02:00

I have a new house, well new to me house. And for have I should really say rent.
So I have an old new rental house.

I've not moved in yet but hope to be installed some time in mid September. It is a Victorian terrace but most of the original features have gone, though it has been updated quite nicely. As is the fashion these days it has laminate floors, plain carpets and white walls. Unlike France the English landlords don't like you altering or decorating their properties so I shall have to brighten it up with furniture and frippery.

Two big plusses are that it has a spare/sewing room and that there is a fabric shop on the corner of the street. So possibly a rather dangerous location for my bank balance though a very nice one for my imagination.

On the move again

2009-07-30T22:14:00.002+02:00

Baby C and I are on the move again. This time back to Blighty for a quick holiday and then, come September, for the duration.
Mr. C and I are taking different paths in life and mine is taking me back to England.

Every day is a bag of mixed feelings but with so much to do I am kept busy and going forward. At least I think it is forward. I'll tell you when I get there.

Nice to see you, to see you nice

2009-07-23T14:41:00.004+02:00

This week I met up with fellow Frenchie blogger, Emily.
We had mumbled something about meeting up via our blogs but it never happened and then one day Emily made the mistake of posting a picture from her window-sill. A small trundle around town and I found her building.

It took me a while to pluck up the courage to put a postcard through her door inviting her for coffee but I am glad I did.
As it happens neither of us are mad-axe-wielding-bloggers, we are actually two lovely ladies.

We both confessed that we hadn't been blogging lately and were a bit scared to start again, just incase anyone noticed. But what the heck, here I am back on the blog.

I do hope to see you soon.

Fettuccini is a four letter word

2009-05-02T17:38:00.004+02:00

Erm hello. If you were wondering what had happened to us all Chez Madame C, well you know the ususal stuff, moving house, getting jobs, sleepless nights, growing teeth and all.

Today I was making fresh pasta when Mr. C returned from a lunchtime beer and told me; "I like watching you make pasta."

I said; "Does it make you forget I'm a feminist?"
He replied; "no, does it make you forget you are a feminist?"

The answer has to be no, but I did wonder if it was the domesticity or the industriousness or the fact he would have fresh pasta for supper that pleased him so.

So to borrow a phrase fettuccini is a four letter word.

Mistaken identity

2009-03-20T11:12:00.005+01:00

While we were in England Baby C and I met some new folk that weren't too sure what flavour the little one was. I personally think that it can be tricky to tell the sex of a baby on first meeting, which is perhaps why folk like to go for very girly or very boyie outfits, so I'm not really offended if someone isn't sure when all they can see is Baby C's eyes and nose poking out from her pram suit.

That being so, I really would have thought that the fact she was wearing a dress and had a pink blanket on her pram might have given them a hint. It didn't so I did have some fun with the conversations along these lines;

New person; "He was very good in the service"
Me; "Yes, apart from eating the order of service"
NP; "Ooh what age is he?"
Me; "Six months"
NP; "What's his name?"
Me; "Isabelle"
NP; "....."

It reminded me of the Blackadder episode where Nursey is recalling Queenie's birth and describes her as "A boy without a winkle"

Apart from the boy/girl confusion the UK visit went off very well. Baby C impressed all by being agreeable and flirting with nearly everyone she met. She also showed off her excellent toast-gumming skills. I got to bring home clothes from my dad's attic which means that I have doubled my wardrobe with no shopping invovled, which pleases both me and Mr. C. And Mr. C got a whole week of full-night's sleep without us, to the point where he admitted we could have stayed away another week.

I'm sure he missed us really though.

A little bit of a round-up

2009-02-22T20:41:00.007+01:00

It has been a couple of weeks since I posted, but it feels like longer.
Lots of things have happened, some big, some small and some in the middle.

Baby C, who is a week shy of 6 months has started on solids. I am going with baby-led weaning,where you don't puree stuff you just give the baby holdable pieces of food and she tries to eat them. Mostly she smooshes them around her face, but on nappy-evidence I can tell you that some is going in.
At the moment her menu consists of toast, banana, carrot and courgette. Exciting times.

My nana died, she was 94 and it seems it was her time and she was ready. Baby C and I are off to England to say goodbye.

I have started to get my arse into gear with my elance account and post job proposals and I think I have secured my first paying writing job. Do a little dance. It isn't much but it is a start.

Mr. C and I had a humungous row. Not something to be proud of, but we did have a very good heart-to-heart afterwards so while there are worries we are trying to address them. (For my mum - don't worry it isn't that bad - just the stresses of life building up)

I have found a fellow blogger in our town. Or more to the point she has found me. Her name is Emily, she is Canadian and her blog is here. She is much better with the photos than I am so you can go and see where we live on her blog.

I think that's about it for the time being. There is probably more to say but I can't think of it right now.

Welcome to France - land of strikes, subsidies and suppositries

2009-02-06T15:05:00.004+01:00

I've been living in France for a couple of months now and thought it was about time I shared my observations with you. So what do we know about France?

It is a land where men wear manbags with no discernable sense of irony. It isn't fashion it is simply a large pocket on a strap to store all your stuff in.

Where the local pizza chain use goats' cheese on a four cheeses pizza. Which if you ask me is wrong, wrong, wrongity wrong. Why would I want my pizza to smell of old feet? There should be lovely melty blue cheese on it.

When the doctor gives you a prescription for baby paracetemol don't expect to pop to Boots and pick up a bottle of Calpol. Nope that would be a prescription for baby paracetemol via a suppository. I got Mr. C to take care of that end of things as it were.

Buses - they're free.

French lessons - they're free.

Plastic bags - no thanks. Please fill up my artisan-woven-basket-bag bag.

Supermarkets at the cost of the local economy - no thanks, we would still like some supermarkets but we will still be shopping at our weekly market if it is all the same with you. Filling up our artisan-woven-basket-bags with artisan crafted bread, cheese and charcuterie.

And of course if you don't like it you can always go on strike as a million or so workers did at the beginning of the month. The thing about the French strikes is that everyone seems to get in on the act. I’m all for unions and the rights of the workers so it seems very civilised that all those with a grievance strike at the same time, I am sure it makes the message so much more powerful. I do however have one curiosity. Students. Students striking. Now correct me if I’m wrong and things have changed since I was at university but being a student isn’t working. You may or may not work at your studies but you aren’t a paid up member of the workforce. So I am not very clear on how not going to class has an effect. Or perhaps I am misunderstanding and they are protesting rather than striking.

What I really want it know is when stay-at-home-mums and our babies can strike, and how would we strike? Perhaps by laying down dirty nappies outside government buildings? Or perhaps loading up water-pistols with breast-milk and firing them at the riot police, well it would make a change from eggs.

Such is life in France.

It worked!

2009-02-02T09:36:00.002+01:00

I just logged in to check the blog this morning and it looks like my cunning plan for more appropriate adsense ads is working.
Today the ad was

"Defend Women's Rights - Study Gender & Law at American Univ. Law School in Washington, DC"

That's more like it isn't it.

Apologies to Sonjea who missed out on the mail order bride ads, though you could probably make up your own. More apologies to Sonjea for not hanging out on her blog enough. I'm trying not to eat too many biscuits and all her talk of scones and cooking makes me hungry.

Three beautiful things - reprise

2009-02-01T18:41:00.003+01:00

For those of you not in the know the 3BT blog is lovely. Clare shares three things that cheered her day. Inspired by Clare I tried my hand at logging three cheerful things everyday but didn't get very far. I could find them but I couldn't always blog them. Fortunately blogger now allows you to import posts form other blogs, so you can see my musings here.

So for today here are my 3BTs - all thanks to Mr. C today.
Lie in, magic hands, breakfast in bed.

Baby C woke up at 6 am and didn't go back to sleep after her feed. Mr. C, with minimal prompting and no audible complaining, got Baby C up and took her downstairs allowing me an extra couple of hours sleep.
Mr. C then brought the baby back for her next feed and then took her away and soothed her for her first nap of the day. He does indeed have Magic-Daddy-Hands.
Then Mr. C brought me breakfast in bed.

How lucky am I? Mind you he very nearly blew it all when he handed me the baby mid morning and in a martyrd voice said; "I've been looking after her for half an hour!"
Although there were many responses running through my head I managed to keep them all in there. I think I will file them under;
"Yes dear, such is life with a baby" cross referenced with "hmmmm"

Oh but the has just redeemed himself by offering to go for pizza and knowing that I would want a four cheeses. So that is possibly four beautiful things and four more on top.

Still here, adsense and pretty ladies

2009-01-29T10:06:00.004+01:00

I am still here and we are all fine, thanks to all those who asked.

If you were locked out for a while, it was nothing more sinister than me playing with the permissions on the blog while playing with the layout and then forgetting to change them back again. Silly me.

And talking of the blog design, thanks to all those who used their hard won right to vote and tell me that they, mostly, liked the new title. You're welcome and all.

I was rootling through various online bits of admin and saw that last time I had adsense on my blogs I earnt a whopping $8 something cents. Now seeing as adsense don't pay out until you reach $100 I thought I would put adsense back on and who knows, in something like 20 years I might get to that $100. So I've put it back, look there it is down on the left, but there is something amiss I feel.

The adverts are generated to reflect the content of your site or blog. So I am a bit worried, not to say miffed, that adsense is currently showing an advert for "100s pretty ladies".
It seems like adsense in all its automated wisdom thinks that this is the perfect site for online bride sale adverts. WTF? to drop into text speak for a moment.
Do the men behind the curtain imagine that there are many lonely and socially inadequate men reading this blog whose aim in life is to marry a "Latin Beauty Queen", I do hope not.

So, if, for no other reason than to change the ads on adsense I feel the need to get a bit more up to date on the blog. So do come and visit again soon and hopefully there will be more to read and fewer dubious ads.

Your questions answered

2009-01-08T09:13:00.003+01:00

Much better thanks, though my sinuses are a bit sore still.
About a third of a pillow, at least we aren't in Marseille.
Not since the last time, I am being very careful.
Much better in the morning though still a bit nap-resistant in the afternoons.

So maybe 2009 isn't so bad after all.
Though I just checked my UK bank account and the pesky fellows have worked out that while there have been funds going out there haven't been so many, well any, going in and have reduced my overdraft limit. Fair enough really but did they have to do it while I was over the limit they reduced it to and charge me a fee for doing so and now they will just add on lots of charges. Hmm not so keen on my bank now, but I had better phone them for a chat.
Maybe a cup of tea and a bury my head in the sand for a bit before I do that though.

Tis the credit crunch and all that - bah to worldwide economics.

Gah, splutter, atchoo and ow!

2009-01-06T10:56:00.005+01:00

I feel like I am living in a memory game at the moment, the one where someone starts with; "I went to the shop and I bought...." and then each player has to add an item after remembering all the preceding purchases.

So here is my version:
On Saturday I had a nap resistant child
On Sunday I had a nap resistant child and the boy-flu
On Monday I had a nap resistant child, the boy-flu and a bump on the back of my head
On Tuesday I had a nap resistant child, the boy-flu, a bump on the back of my head and a bump on the front of my head.

Actually the child is napping well today, possibly because she decided that she wouldn't go back to sleep after waking up at 6 am so is now pooped. Aw bless. I, however, am wide awake and knackered.

As for that sloping roof, after sitting under it to feed the baby six times a day for a month you think I would know by now, well at least it is my head I am bumping and not the babys.

And for Beebee the boy-flu, or pneu d' homme as it is in French, is your run of the mill bad cold with cough and headache. However should a male have this they will proclaim that they are "dyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing" and need to lie on the sofa for several days with only the stength to point the remote control at the TV.
It seems I am not actually making enough fuss for it to be real boy flu but Mr. C is wise enough to take me and my snot-monster seriously.
Last time he had it was prior to Baby C arriving and I did try to indulge him because I knew that once she was here then I would have very low reserves of sympathy and he would be met with; "Pah you don't know what pain is, I've given birth"

Ah well it is 11 am and I am sure the day will get better. We are expecting snow tomorrow, several pillows worth.

Its getting worse

2009-01-05T14:30:00.004+01:00

Well the other day I just had the boy-flu.
Now I have the boy-flu, a nap resistant child and a bump on my head. So 2009 is not shaping up well for me.

Actually Baby C is now snoozing away, I hope, but in the process of getting her to this point I stood up from the couch where I feed her and bumped my head on the low ceiling. Blummin Alpine houses and their cute lil eaves.

Bah

Humbug

Grrr

Snnrfff

An ominous start

2009-01-02T16:39:00.002+01:00

Well it is never as bad as it seems, but at the moment I have boy-flu, yes of course it is only a sore throat, cold and headache, but I rekon it is boy-flu and therefore I could drop down dead or have my leg fall off at any moment.
And despite the boy-flu the laundry still needs doing, except I didn't realise the washing machine didn't automatically drain so I opened the door and made a small flood. Dog garn it!

I'm not a big believer in omens but I seem to have contracted a dose of the blues with the boy-flu and so I am now worried this is a bad start for the year and I am feeling very flumpy and grumpy, especially as we are super skint due to the bank recruitment rules changing and Mr. C only being able to get contract work on the minimum wage. This means that it will take us a couple of months longer than expected to get the deposit for an apartment and when we do have one then we will be exercising our frugallity muscles on a daily basis.

So what I really want is a job and to earn some money to help with that situation and so I can do a little bit of sewing retail therapy. I need to get my little self organised and post some proposals on elance and hopefully earn some money writing. Sigh.

My year in numbers

2009-01-01T16:48:00.002+01:00

1 – the number of people I have grown and pushed out into the world
1 – the number of times I have done my “Pilates for mums” dvd since the above event
1 – the number of fried eggs I have eaten this year
2 – the number of Gin and Tonics I have drunk
2 – the number of new parents in our family
3 – the number of countries I have lived
4 – the number of addresses I have lived at
14 – the number of kilos I put on while pregnant
28 – the above in pounds for those of you still working in imperial (or about 2 stone if you are my mum)
3.5 – the number of kilos that have stayed put after the baby has arrived (about 7 lb or half a stone in old money)
14 and a half – the hours I was in labour, start to finish
48p – the amount of money I have earned via Amazon associates this year – it’s a while till I can afford the Encyclopaedia Britannica

Life can be very confusing

2008-12-29T20:49:00.003+01:00

The French-in-laws recently had some friends pop around who had just come back from a holiday in England. While extolling the virtues of London they were saying how wonderful Harrods is.
I missed this part of the conversation and a little later Mr. C was explaining it to me, but couldn't remember the name of the store. His description was;

"You know that big shop on that famous street, what's it called? Coronation Street!"

He had another confused moment yesterday when changing the baby's nappy. This photo wasn't even taken at the nappy change, this was after he had walked around with her for ten minutes or so and then brought her to me.

Though I confess I have come pretty close to doing this myself, though I usually do realise that I have not done up the onsie before Baby C looks like a minature superhero.

1950's dad

2008-12-29T20:30:00.004+01:00

Just when you think you are making progress with the Feminism for Dads training he goes and says something daft.

During our conversation yesterday about possible relocation we were discussing living in the UK. If we live there then I would be the breadwinner and Mr. C would have to either do childcare or accept that whatever job he did the main of his pay would pay for childcare.
In the course of this discussion Mr. C said something along the lines of;
"But I'm not going to stay home with the baby."

Which is a perfectly reasonable thing to say but the implicit aside here is; "that's woman's work." and I think he did actually say it was more "natural" for a woman to stay home.

If you are a breastfeeding mum then logistically the feeding part of childcare is easier if you are the one to stay home, but it isn't impossible to go to work and have someone else use expressed milk to feed your child.

Just to get things straight Mr. C isn't against me working, he isn't that reactionary, he just worded things a little bit badly. He was also honest enough to own up that he enjoys looking after the baby at the weekend but wouldn't want to do it all the time.
But again there is an implicit assumption that I enjoy the childcare because I am the mum. I do enjoy looking after Baby C. but not every moment of every day. But who enjoys every moment of every day of their job?

It has taken me a while and some careful manouverings to get Mr. C to appreciate that looking after a child can be taxing too. I really tried to avoid the classic "childcare is work too" argument as it shouldn't be a competition as to whose time and effort is more valuable. The way I see it there are different jobs in the family that need doing, someone has to earn the money and someone has to care for the baby. Both need doing and both are important.
I went along the lines of; "thank you for going out to work for us this week" backed up with a "yes but I don't get a day off from looking after the baby" when faced with his; "but its the weekend I want to enjoy my time off"

I have to say that Mr. C can now get up with the baby at the weekend and take her downstairs, bring me a cup of tea in bed without prompting. Of course it helps that we are living with the French-in-laws so he can just hand her over to them for an hour or so. But hey its progress.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

2008-12-28T18:51:00.002+01:00

I wish I knew.

We have been in France for three weeks and already Mr. C has got itchy feet.
He was looking thoughtful at lunch today and I made the mistake of asking him what he was thinking about. The answer was Malta. He was thinking about how it would be to go back and work there.
I managed to keep my cool and not spoon my broccoli gratin over him.

When we arrived in France Mr. C’s got a temporary contract working at the local bank where he used to work before he went to Malta some five years ago. The idea being that he would try and get a permanent job with the bank where he could do his banking exams and so be a responsible-grown-up-hunter- gather-father type chappie.
As ever life decided that things shouldn’t be that simple for us. Since he last worked at the bank their recruitment policy has changed so you can only work there permanently if you completed two years post-18 study and as Mr. C did not stay on in education he can’t work permanently for the bank. It doesn’t matter that he has worked for them before, it doesn’t matter that he is good at the work, he cannot be employed on a permanent basis there. What he can do is work there on contracts for minimum wage.
So Mr. C figured if he was going to work for a pittance he may as well do so in diving.

I understand his point of view, but to be thinking about leaving having only just arrived three weeks ago is a bit stressful.

So we had a bit of a talk and we discovered that we still don’t know what we want to be when we grow up.
In the meantime our options are;
Mr. C gets a diving job in Malta and I do a TEFL and try to get a teaching job. On the plus side, great diving, great weather in the summer, we know the islands and I don’t need to learn another language.
We stay in France and Mr. C continues at the bank or looks for another job, I continue to learn French, maybe also do a TEFL course and try to get a job doing something or other. The benefits being if we stay in Gap then JB’s folks can help with childcare and we get quite a bit of assistance from the state.
I get a job in England and we live there. On the plus, no problem with the language, I should be able to get a well paid job, but Mr. C isn’t keen on being a house husband and we would have less family assistance as we probably wouldn’t live close by.

Overall it seems that staying in France and making-ends meet is the best option. Another influencing factor being that Mr. C has just signed us up to a two year mobile phone contract so we could have whizzy phones. I am sure mine could make the tea in the morning or contact outer space if only I could work out how.