Return Of The Slack Arsed Blogger

Bless me readers for I have sinned, it has been a month since my last post.

It has been all go here, although I doubt it will sound like it.

The last week in Feb was spent in the mountains for our annual skiing jamboree.  Actually that should read the kids skiing.  The little matter of a broken back, cracked pelvis, dislocated knee, torn ligaments, two double ruptured discs and a cold meant I had to be content staying in the apartment.  MrsF also decided that she could do with out some little helmeted tw*t skiing into her and injuring her so she opted not to ski as well so we would have at least one driver.  This presented a few logistical issues, but the week was saved by Mrs Roynie,  who bravely volunteered to ski with les brutes when they weren’t at ski school.  The kids had a good time and being more than competent skiers and borders who dont understand the word fear, went blatting around what pistes were open.  The snow in Feb was not great but there was enough.  Anyway a big thank you to Brigid for all her hard work.

Just as an update it has been snowing like stink up in the mountains for the last few days with 15cm of snow falling on Saturday night alone.  Consequently I think we are heading back up so all the kids except Billy the Fish can partake in some plank sliding.

I say except the Fish because the plonker fell out of tree and broke his elbow two weeks ago.  It was Sunday evening and MrsF and I were planning on getting the herberts to bed early so we could have an evening devant le telly to watch some back issues of the Sopranos. At about 6pm the Fish came trotting into the kitchen grimacing and said “I think I have broken my arm”  I took one look and saw that his left hand was hanging down by his knee and the palm was pointing in a rather odd direction and the arm was flapping about like a flag in a summer breeze.  To cut a long story short Pas de Sopranos pour nous!  We got his jumper off before the arm swelled up too much and indeed the arm was badly broken at the elbow so it was off to Lannemezan.  When MrsF got him there the quacks took one look and had him transferred to Tarbes where he underwent surgery. They put two pins into his elbow and these will need to be removed in a couple of months.  He spent what seemed to be two very agreeable days in hospital and is looking forward to his next stay.  He was particularly impressed with the grub.  The original story was that he had fallen out of the tree house, but further investigation revealed that in fact young Billy was swinging from branch to branch about 4m up the tree in true Tarzan style when he lost his grip and responded to the call of gravity.  He did say it wasn’t the falling out of the tree that was the problem it was the landing on the rock hard ground that did the damage.  I don’t know where he gets it from!

He has been back to see the surgeon and they took off the first plaster (which weighed a bloody ton) and took out the stitches from his op.  He is back again this week for another visit and another change of plaster.  More signing.

Whilst the boy was in hospital in Tarbes we rang the car dealer to see if there was any chance of getting our new jam jar a few days early and he said yes.  Deep joy we are now the proud owners of a Nissan Note.  Not the most exciting set of wheels in the universe but not bad, although I speak as a passenger as I am still unable to drive due to the back.  Anyway we picked the car up about an hour before we took the injured lad home.  Unfortunately the boy wonder was feeling a little tom and dick after his aesthetic and went very green on the way home.  His loving father who was in the back with him advised him that vomiting in a car that was only one hour old would not be his wisest of moves.  Il ne barfed pas dans ma voiture.  The cunning liguists amongst you will notice that barf is an irregular verb

For the last ten years the renovation of our bedroom has been what I would call ” A work in progress”.  slow progree at that. Our bedroom is very big, in fact I would say too big being roughly 5m X 5m or 16ft x 16ft for you lot who use old money. The plan was or is to install a walk in wardrobe and a small en-suite shower and toilet.  Its funny that we use the French words en-suite but nobody French would have any idea what the hell you were talking about if you used the expression to them.  I digress.  With my injuries it was pretty clear that it was a work that was not going to progress very much further in the foreseeable future.  MrsF’s patience was starting to wear a little thin so we decided to hang the expense and to get our builder Jose Fuches in to get it sorted.  Jose is a good builder and fairly quick but his presence at chez nous does disrupt the fragile chaotic order that sort of prevails. To be fair he had the majority of the plasters board in place in three days.  Cables and pipes were run in and holes knocked through for the waste. Then he hit the slow bits, where there were lots of small bits to shaped and cut to size.  Now we are at the start of week 3 and he is now tiling the floor of the shower room and toilet.  Tomorrow he will do the walls and then move back into the bedroom to do the joints of the plaster board.  I reckon that by Tuesday of next week he will be done.  Huzzah I hear you cry.  Boo I hear the bank account saying.

Now to update you on the Flying Arab.  About a week  ago a mutual acquaintance bumped into us in Lannemezan and said that Bibi and his doris were moving out at the end of March.  News to us, but it was right.  It was like being back in the job where other people knew you were being transferred before you did.  I have to be honest and say I wont be too sorry to see the back of him and the two barking dog, although to be fair they have not been too much of a pain.  Anyway, they started moving their stuff out last week and then over the Easter weekend.  It rained and snowed and it snowed and rained which combined with the seriously strong winds made the whole operation pretty miserable but they did it.  There is till a fair bit of crap left behind but no doubt that will go over the next few years.   It also means that the gite will be available for the summer season, should we find any punters at this stage.  Email me for a bargain basement price.

Back to the FA.  Having moved most of their worldly goods he then went to build an oak framed  slate roofed wood shelter for Julia’s parents.  Try saying that when on the lash.  It was a bigger job than it might sound being around 3m in length and 2m deep and about 2m high.  He and an old roofing colleague started at 8am on Easter Monday and finished at 8.30pm and despite fierce weather condition they have done an absolutely superb job and I mean it really is the billy bollocks.  If he would only pull his finger out he could make a very tidy sum, but unfortunately he is very depressed and just doesn’t seem to be able to get motivated.

Whats else has happened?  We had a visit from Wendy and Martin.  You regular blog readers will know Wendy as the writer of “A Baguette On My Table”, where as non blog readers wont know who the hell she is.  Alors, Wendy is from South Africa and has, it must be said,  a fairly pronounced accent of those nether regions.  Martin is from Fulham so speaks like us regular geezers, although this regular geezer has a slight Yorkshire accent.  Half way through he evening there was some banter pertaining to Wendys clothing or at least her leggings.  Now then in the Land of Winnie Mandella,  leggings are known as jazz pants and there was more than a bit of piss taking by Martin about Wendz Jazz pants.  I had been out of the room and when I came back Wendy asked me what we would call Jazz pants, only with her accent I heard her say Jizz pants.  I know one should not laugh at ones guests or their choice of clothing (Dr Deaths moccasins- sorry loafers being a good example) but I thought Jizz pants took some beating.

Ahh yes I know some terrible news, I have been off the drink totally for three weeks.  I had noticed that I was getting a little tipsier quicker than normal when I came out of hospital, but just thought it was good way of saving money.  However one night we had people to dinner and I got well and truly bladdered.  I mean lets strip off and get in the hot tub when it was minus something or other outside, with your guests 19 year old former baby sitter after midnight bladdered .  The details after my brother in laws home made lemoncella are just a vague haze (that’s my defence and I am sticking to it).  MrsF was very understanding, but I still haven’t worked out how my slippers got so wet.  It was only when in conversation with medical pal did he ask if I was still on the drugs for my back.  He suggested that I check whether one could drink with them as he seemed to recall a revised notice being issued stating drink should be avoided totally.  I checked the little note in the pack and it said drink should be avoided but the notice to doctors and pharmacists on t’internet said “UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ALCOHOL BE CONSUMED”  Ooerr misuss that’s a little different to “Should be avoided” it then gave a list of possible consequences if you did drink whilst taking said drugs.  Stripping off and getting in the hot tub after midnight with scantily clad young women wasn’t actually mentioned but I am sure if they had thought about it it would be.  Despite the fact that there is life in the old dog yet  I am off the drink but I can recommend the tablets if you want to kick start a dull party.  What a rock and roll life style I live.  Actually joking apart I wasn’t very well for about a week after the binge.

Having moaned about being off the drink it has contributed to an even slimmer Billy than before.  I have now lost over 15kg since my accident, which those health freaks amongst you will think is great, but the problem is that none of my strides fit me now.  I can take all my trousers off without undoing them and they are all baggy round my new firm taught buttocks and my shirts are like tents flapping around my finely honed pecs.

I have a few words to Mr John Major, Norman Lamont and Nigel Lawson – sorry Nigella nothing personal.  Where the f**k is the 2 Euros to the pound you predicted.  Thats right folks those financial whizz kids said we should wait before joining the Euro because the rate of 1.76 Euros to the pound wasn’t good enough and the European currency would collapse against the pound.  As I type the pound buys you 1.27 Euros.  That is no where near 2 is it.  Now the problem is that this has meant that a lot people including nous have had a right financial kick in the clems as we have watched the pound sink like the Titanic.  It has not been helped ny the fact that Europe in general has seen a very steady increase in prices.  Where France used to be much cheaper than the UK the divide has closed.  I do wonder whether this has been encouraged by the present UK government to slow immigration from the new EU states and at the same time slow down those leaping from Britain to the mainland in search of Eurotopia.  I also suspect that the French and Spanish are quite happy to slow the immigration from the UK as they have been saddled with people who dont speak the language, don’t pay tax or national insurance, but do expect their kids to be educated and to be treated in the health system for nowt.  Sounds like the people most of the new wave Brits say they are trying to avoid.  Anyway with this financial squeeze and the recent changes in the health regulations in Spain and France it is making the move harder for people so I reckon everyone in the political world is happy.   My message to all these bastards is thanks a friggin bunch. So if you is thinking of retiring to anywhere in Europe make sure you have a fair bit of money saved up because you are going to need it.

Oh one last thing and I mean last thing which is more for Enidd than anyone else.  No Cadburys creme eggs in this neck of the woods for love nor money.  Over the last couple of years they had made an appearance in some of the local supermarkets for some reason.  Alas not this year.  Not that the new slimmer BIlly ans MrsF would be tempted by such things.  Pass the  reduced calorie whipped cream please my love!

Well thats it for the time being, but I am now taking Fibre-gel so I should be more regular from now on with my off loadings.

2 Responses to “Return Of The Slack Arsed Blogger”

  1. clarissa says:

    Hello Cadbury Eggless Billy! Nice to have you back.

  2. enidd says:

    bah no comment, at least this time it’s 6. enidd said something very witty about creme eggs or something. you had to be there.

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