Billy & MrsF

I would just like to say a really big Thank you for all the comments, emails, cards and telephone calls I have had since OB popped off.  They are all very much appreciated and I am really sorry if I have not been in touch personally, but you all know what a slack arse I am when it comes to responding at the best of times, and just recently, well I think you all understand.

Normal pitiful service will be resumed next week.

Flora and Williams Communion went well. A big thanks to Dr and Mrs Death and the deathlets, Mick and Sabrina Rocket Ron and Julie who made the trek over from Blightly for the do. On the Friday night we had a bit of a get together with the above and our new best mates Steve and Katrina. It wasn’t a wake but in true Old school Met fashion we did what we do best. It was a great night. Not because we were pissed but because it was very very noisy. I reckon that the best barometer for s good shindig.

We eventually hit the sack at around 4am and my top tip is that Grappa and Malibu do not mix that well. They talk about these youngsters binge drinking - Hah - kin light weights.

Having found my liver under the settee the next day we got ready for the big day.

The sunday of the communion was also mothers day in France. It was wet and miserable, like the weather had been for the last week or so, but for about 30 minutes after the service the sun came out. Lots of people knew Old Bid and came over to express their condolences. I was to read some prayers with a lady from Galan. When we looked at the prayers two were about mothers day and Stephanie said she would do those and whn I read them I was glad. When our time came she did her first bit then I di mine and then the second reading about mothers. Stephanie really choked and got through the reading and then the tears started. I thought she had lost her um and felt a bit of a cad, and then got a bit confused when I saw her mums mush looking back at me. It transpired she was upset on my behalf.

We headed of to the Ferme Auberge where we pigged out in true weight watchers style. The wine flowed and the chatter got noisier and then home. MrsF and Sabine had made a Gateau a la Broche, which is a Pyrenean cake cooked on a wooden mould over a log fire. It is a weighty beast and has amongst its ingredients 50 eggs, 2 kg of butter, 2 kg flour and a litre of rum.

It wasn’t the same the same without Granny and I think everyone felt it, but we had a good time because that is what she would have wanted. She would have got very cross to see long mopey faces and tears.

The long faces and tears were for Thursday. We flew back on the wednesday and drove up to York from Stanstead.

First port of call was the chapel of rest for those who wanted to see Granny for the last time. MrsF said she would go as she had never seen a dead body and felt that at the age of 22 (surely some mistake) Ed she should break her duck. The kids asked me what I thought and I had to be honest and said that once you’ve seen one dead body you’ve seen them all. and having seen more than my fair share I couldn’t really advise them as to whether they should or shouldn’t go in. As it was they decided they would all go in. I think Billy the Fish was half hoping she would open her eyes and start drinking blood like a true zombie. I knew it was a mistake letting him watch Shawn of the Dead. To his dismay Granny stayed dead and lifeless.

However the first cock up of our arrangements came to light. I had forgotten to give the undertakers a photo of Old Bid so they had no idea what her hair looked like. Instead of her flat cut style she had been coiffured in what one might call a typical Old lady style.

“Who gave her the old Lady hair?” was how Flora put it.

The agreed that hair aside it didn’t look like granny and indeed Granny didn’t look like granny on the last two days she was alive, but I said nowt and just said something along the lines of “That’s death for you”

Thursday came and we assembled at Old Bids for her final drive. As the hearse and funeral cars arrived so did the postman. He said how sorry he was and handed me a packet from Play.com. It was my birthday present to Old bid which had been ordered way back on about the 10th April. You’ve Got to admit that’s service for you. Six weeks to send something out and delivery on your funeral - Here I have just ahd an idea maybe the good people at Play.com could bring out their own albumn, music to watch funerlas to! music to take to the Grave. If you like Gilbert & Sullivan that is.

The funeral went well as far as funerals can. The priest had chosen a gospel and reading that really did reflect Old Bids views on life and more appropriately Death. Then I stepped up to say a few words about my mum. I had a vague Idea about what I was going to say as I got into the pulpit. What I didn’t expect was that this was the moment it hit me. I felt as if my back had been broken again but worse. Fuck me what a time to loose it. I could not let it get the better of me so I stood for a moment smiling like a moron and composed myself and then started with the immortal words “Its funny how……” It wasn’t funny but I had to hold it together and from somewhere came the strength to overcome. I trotted out some of my better death jokes and witty anecdotes about my mum. I hope I said what we all felt.

I think it fair to say that MrsF was very upset, probably more than I was. They were good friends and I know they loved each other very much, they weren’t just close through and accident of birth. She an Old Bid got on really well and were very very close. Does that make sense or am I rambling ?

MF and Mick along with Patrick MFs step son carried old Bid from the church and then it was off to the crematorium.

Why is it that crematoriums always play “The New world Symphony” which was used by British Coal for years on their TV ads with those lines “Come home to a real fire” I have always found it funny and this was no exception. The service was short and we elected to leave the curtains open as it is often too traumatic for people when they close. The service finished with Old Bids favourite song.

Afterwards we had tea and buns and saw some old faces that I haven’t seen in years. Old fiends from when I was at primary school even. There were lots of people there and apart from her circle of friends and cronies from church we were touched by the number who had come along way just to see my mum off. There were too many to mention everyone, but there was TG, Mad Sean, TJB, Big Man, Uncle Norman, Rollo, Rolf, LB and more but I’ve gone blank.

This was the point of the second cock up because a lot of people went to the wrong place for the tea and buns. Oh well you can’t get it right all the time and I suppose we saved a few quid. Actually we didn’t because there wasn’t much left.

More to the point it was a glorious sunny day and the kids played outside and ran around having a laugh and doing what kids do and we chatted and swpaped stories with old friends and family and there was laughter in the air. It was as if the old Bids favourite song we had just heard was being played out for real.

I see trees of green…….. red roses too
I see em bloom….. for me and for you
And I think to myself…. what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue….. clouds of white
Bright blessed days….dark sacred nights
And I think to myself …..what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow…..so pretty ..in the sky
Are also on the faces…..of people ..going by
I see friends shaking hands…..sayin.. how do you do
Theyre really sayin……i love you.

I hear babies cry…… I watch them grow
Theyll learn much more…..than Ill never know
And I think to myself …..what a wonderful world
Oh Yeah.

I got to York on Saturday afternoonb and went straight to the hospital to see Old Bid.  She did not loo too good at all, but was in goos spirits.

We had a good chat on Staurday night and she said “You know the other day I said I was dying by ionches, well I think I am picking up speed pretty fast.  My lungs are knackered and it’s curtains.  Mind you I am not bothered because there is nothing I can do about it”

It was the first time I had seen her since I broke my back and she was impressed with the scar and how well I looked, although she she did say that she thought I should be a little more careful in the future.

I saw her again and on Sunday Eveneing had a really nice time and said what we needed to say, I told her how much we all loved her and what a great mother she had been.

Old Bid died peacefully at 7am on Monday morning

She had a good life and was a good mum and we all love her very much, but at the end of the day we all have to pop off and she did it with dignity, wisdom and courage.

I am glad she didn’t suffer because she would have made a terrible invalid.

Old Bid was taken into hospital earlier tonight suffering with heart failure.  I am flying back first thing later this morning (Saturday) and will be back in France sometime on Tuesday.

I think even OB may have to admit defeat on getting over here for the communion.  If she doesn’t buck her ideas up she will be getting her own religious service!

I can promise that this entry is unlikely to be what you would call a right riveting read.

Well I can finally say that the bedroom and new shower are finished - PRAISE THE BLOODY LORD, but it has been worth it.  We moved back in this weekend.  It was actually the first time I had slept there since the 21st December.  No I haven’t been in the dog house all that time, but I had my accident on the 22nd and then was confined to the downstairs room when I got out of hospital in January.  The Ikea bed settee we have downstairs is pretty comfy, but not a patch on our bed.  Bliss sheer bliss.

MrsF and I had a good weekend away in Aubeterre sur Dronne.  Its a fascinating and very pretty place built into an escarpment.  The hotel we stayed at is owned by a young couple, she is English and he is French and a Michelin star chief.  Needless to say the food is just the billy bollocks and I ate more than I should have but it was worth it.

We are now in the process of trying to sort out the garden/wilderness and get the swamp/pool ready.  Both are long laborious tasks.  We have also decided to re do the part part of the garden nearest the house.  This has meant taking out all the shrubs and crap that have gone ape around the terrace and rotovating the ground, levelling it and then laying black plastic over it so we can gravel it.  It started as a little project but in true typical Billy ans MrsF style it has become a major job, a little bit like massaging Pamela Andersons Breasts, it starts off ok but you soon get stiff and tired.  But I am sure to be satisfied when I finish.  I reckon the garden will be better as well.

We are getting ready for Flora and William’s first Communion on the 25th.  Not so much and event of monumentus religious significance but more a family get together of importance.  The Deaths are coming along with the deathlets as Dr D is Williams Godfather and Mrs Death is Floras Beloved Godmother.  My sister Mary and Vic the goat are also coming along with Old Bid.  Unfortunately Old Bid has not been too well of late, actually she is dying slowly but surely from heart failure.  Her young GP had tried telling her she should not make the journey as it could be fatal, but my mother would need a stronger excuse or argument than that to stop her.  I should say at this point that death - as in the grim reaper rather than the good doctor- hold no fear for my mum at all.  She has never been worried about popping off, which is why the GP’s comments and fears are wasted.  However I think we all feel that realistically this is likely to be her last visit to us here, so we will do our best to make it special.

The last ten days have been over shadowed by death in one way or the other.  Again I am referring to the grim reaper.

An old friend of mine Harry N was killed in the Congo whilst protecting aid workers delivering humanitarian supplies.  I am unable to go to his funeral, but I suspect it will be a serious piss up.

Then my mums dog bite the dust, mind you he was 16 which is not  bad innings when you consider that works out at about 110 in dog years.

The veggie patch has stuff going in and we will have a bumper crop of raspberries. If the kids and birds dont eat them all.

I used to complain about the kids nicking them, but then a friend of mine rang me to tell me his lad had died aged 21 from leukaemia.  My mate is a grumpy git, but has a magnificent vegetable and fruit garden and it used to drive him spare when the kids nicked the rasps, but he never actually vent his spleen at his offspring.  He told me that the day his boy died, he was with him and was sitting there holding his hand.  The lad said “You know dad, things haven’t been that easy at times, but when it got really rough I always used to think of those gorgeous raspberries we used to nick from the garden.   I loved those raspberries and knew how much you loved us because even though it really used to get your goat you never said anything, but just kept growing more for us. I never realised that those raspberries nicked on sunny days in our garden as a little boy would be thing thing that kept me going.  I close my eyes I can feel the warmth of the sun and I can taste those little red fruits and I know everything is alright”

On a more cheerful note the long long weekend is over and the kids are back to school, although the younger ones have a short week as they are off on a school tirp to Biaritz tomorrow and then there is a strike on Thursday.  There is confusion as to whether there is another day of strikes on Friday, but I think that is optimism on the kids behalf.

Well its May Day and the start of the public holiday bonanza in France.  The 1st, 8th and 12th are all official holidays. So today is a public holiday so everything is shut and the kids are off school.  Tomorrow is an unofficial holiday or “Pont” as the French call it, a pont is a bridge and this extra day simply bridges the one day between the public holiday and the weekend. So many public offices and schools are shut tomorrow, but  a lot of businesses and shops are open as normal.

To make up for this the children were at school all day on Wednesday.  However next week is a little more complicated.

Next Thursday is also a holiday as is the following Monday and so it follows that Friday is also a pont.  It is for the younger children at primary school who will have school all day on Wednesday but then be off until the following Tuesday.  Very simple and practical, BUT possibly not for Suzie who is at Lycee and Claudia at college.  Apparently and I say apparently, because there has been no communication from the respective educational institutions,  the older children will be at school all day on Wednesday and on Friday.  Suzie has been asked to stay with some friends who are going to Argeles sur Mer on the Med coast, leaving on Wednesday afternoon and returning on Sunday evening.   We have a little trip away planned with the rest of the brutes leaving on Wednesday evening and coming back on Sunday night so this is a bit of a kick in the nuts.

Suzie has got in a bit of a flap, but my view is bollocks to the schools she is going on her trip.  If they have a change of plan that flies in the face of the rest of France then hey should communicate this to the parents in reasonable time.  If they don’t, well they can take a running jump.  A French friend in a similar position said we could pretend the kids were ill and I have said no, If the schools want to know why they weren’t at school I will write and say that if the schools can’t be arsed telling us what is happening that’s their problem not ours and they can pick the bones out of that.

MrsF and I are going away for a couple of Days to the town of Aubeterre sur Dronne in the Charente for an arts weekend.  A friend of ours John Gregson is an artist and has recently finished a series of paintings for the new P&O cruise liner Ventura.  I help him with his website and publicity and few other b its and bobs.  He has a exhibition running and we have been invited.  Have a look at the site and his paintings.  I am also hoping to meet up with a very old friend of mine who will be in the neighbourhood.

Once again I find myself catching up after several weeks absence. Part of the problem has been good old Orange who for some reason managed to cock up our ADSL connection. The other part of the problem is a simple lack of time. This bedroom/bathroom renovation malarky has dragged on and on and on and on and on and on, BUT the end is in sight - as the actress said to the bishop. The there is the garden and the pool and loads of other stuff. I reckon we have lost a day every week with having to go to Pau or Toulouse to get stuff. It doesn’t sound much, but its thee hours in the car there and back plus shopping time and I have got to stop at 12.00 for lunch - actually I get in at 11.45 before the rush, after all the arly Billy gets the Jambon Chaud.

Anyway by the time we have done that we are usually back for the kids getting home from school, then its home work, grub and if we are lucky some “quality family time”. My Name Earl is still up there with Father Ted, although recently the kids discovered a Tommy Cooper DVD somebody had leant us and they are quite into that. However as the weather improves we tend to migrate outside.

We have also been a way to stay with friends in Drome Provenece. Beucoup du Cote du Rhone, Nyons Olives and sunshine. All in all tres agreeable indeed, although I find that neck of the woods far to windy. Actually 4 days of 50kmh winds is fairly normal for there. BUt not pour moi.

For those animal lovers who have been so concerned about Stumpy no nuts I can tell you the stump is looking OK. Can’t vouch for where his nuts were though. I wonder is this a case of no nuts is good nuts? probably not from his point of view!

The Fish’s arm came out of plaster and he was walking round like the fugitive or hunch back. He was due to go back to the hospital on the 15 th May. However while we were away last week he sauntered into the kitchen, where we deeply ensconced in our second glass of appero, and casually announced that his elbow was bleeding because one of the pins had come through the skin and was sticking out slightly. It was only bleeding slightly and a plater covered the hole. The next day we rang the hospital and we arranged an emergency appointment for yesterday ie 28th April with the surgeon.

The long and the short of it was that they removed the “pin” from his elbow under a local anaesthetic. Not a pleasant experience according to MrsF as the pin was about 6inches long and shaped like a dagger. The boy was not too fussed although he did say that he wouldn’t rush back for the treatment.

He is rather looking forward to his next stay in hospital as the food was so good. I don’t know how long he thinks he will be in there because he keeps saying “When I am in hospital I can do ……..” You would think he was going to Club Med.

I saw the neurosurgeon who did the repair on my back a couple of weeks ago. The news is very good. The repair is very good and in fact he thinks now that he will be able to remove the titanium plates and screws at the end of the year, where as originally he thought they were going to stay in for ever.

However that is to be confirmed but none the less it is good news. I am now driving a little bit. Local runs only. The only thing I can’t do is put my shoes and socks on but I am making progress there and can actual get my feet to my hands. It’s just the pulling the shoes and socks on that is too much.

One of the rrasons for the improved mobility is that the boy wonder and I started physio a couple of weeks ago and will have this twice a week for the next 5 or 6 weeks. Obviously physio is out for his nibs for the time being as a result of yesterdays procedure but he will be back in the harness soon.

Then weight loss continues to go well, although I am now down to 90kg from my original 106 I just don’t seem to be able to limbo dance into the 80’s. I can’t be doing with getting this low fat spread and stuff. I am not so bothered as to sacrifice the quality, taste and enjoyment of my grub just to be a little thinner. I am not worried about being healthier, I just want to get some of the load off my knees and back. I reckon I am built for comfort not for speed!

The weather has been pretty naff until last weekend. It has been cold windy and very wet. In fact it rained almost none stop for ten days and it had even been sleeting and snowing on and off here whilst the mountains have had more snow than the rest of the winter. The someone flicked the hot switch and suddenly it was 28c. No introduction or warm up and very nice it was too. However it is weird because it was 28 on Sunday and 9c yesterday. Pas normale!

We all took part in a fancy dress party the parents association arranged for the school kids. Flora went as a the Corpse bride, MrsF the corpse bride’s mother, The fish was a pirate and I went as Bob Marley and Suzie was a mysterious woman in BLack.  Claudia went as an Eskimo, but for some reason I dont seem to have a photo of her or MrsF on the PC.  Enquiries will be made to rectify this. Nobody recognised me and in fact nobody talked to me except one for the Gendarmes.

As the summer approaches the swimming pool begs attention. Christ it is a right two and eight and is going to need some work to get it looking like a swamp.

The brutes have been out working in preparation for this years veggie planting. We are limiting ourselves to Aubergines, courgettes, peppers, tomatoes (cherry and beefsteak) chillies, lettuces and carrots.

I have also taken my first step to my outside cooking area. At great expense I got two sort of butcher block/ trolleys from Ikea and a work surface. This will form the basis for my preperation zone. I have also been putting the finishing touches to my first solar water heater that I intend to build - MrsF raises eyes to heaven and shakes her head every time the project is mentioned-Oh she of little faith. I have also found a billydo for solar lighting which is about 300 Euros and provides enough electrickery to light a shed ans some patio lights. However for the time being I will limit myself to the hot water system.

And finally I would like to thank Julia’s Uncle Rat for the following little gems:-

12 of the finest double-entendres that have been aired on TV & radio.

1. Pat Glenn, weightlifting commentator - ‘And this is Gregoriava from
Bulgaria. I saw her snatch this morning and it was amazing!’

2. New Zealand Rugby Commentator - ‘Andrew Mehrtens loves it when Daryl
Gibson comes inside of him.’

3. Ted Walsh - Horse Racing Commentator - ‘This is really a lovely
horse. I once rode her mother.’

4. Harry Carpenter at the Oxford-Cambridge boat race 1977 - ‘Ah, isn’t
that nice.. The wife of the Cambridge President is kissing the Cox of the
Oxford crew.’

5. US PGA Commentator - ‘One of the reasons Arnie (Arnold Palmer) is
playing so well is that, before each tee shot, his wife takes out his
balls and kisses them ….. Oh my god!! What have I just said??’

6. Carenza Lewis about finding food in the Middle Ages on ‘Time Team
Live’ said: ‘You’d eat beaver if you could get it.’

7. A female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have
snowed and didn’t, turned to the weatherman and asked, ‘So Bob, where’s
that eight inches you promised me last night?’ Not only did HE have to
leave the set, but half the crew did too, because they were laughing so
hard!

8. Steve Ryder covering the US Masters: ‘Ballesteros felt much better
today after a 69 yesterday.’

9. Clair Frisby talking about a jumbo hot dog on Look North
said: ‘There’s nothing like a big hot sausage inside you on a cold night
like this.’

10. Mike Hallett discussing missed snooker shots on Sky
Sports: ‘Stephen Hendry jumps on Steve Davis’s misses every chance he
gets.’

11. Michael Buerk on watching Phillipa Forrester cuddle up to a male
astronomer for warmth during BBC1’s UK eclipse coverage remarked:
‘They seem cold out there, they’re rubbing each other and he’s only come
in his shorts.’

12. Ken Brown commentating on golfer Nick Faldo and his caddie Fanny
Sunneson lining-up shots at the Scottish Open: ‘Some weeks Nick likes to
use Fanny, other weeks he prefers to do it by himself.’

I will try to post something before July!

People often confuse pussy for cats. They are not one and the same.

I like pussy but am not over fond of cats. We have two cats who live outside and whom I tolerate, just.

Cat number one is a female called Vodka. The name of the cat is nothing to do with me and has not been influenced by my recent medication. I said we should call it Poxy.

The second cat is her son and is called stripes. Individually they areOK but they dont get on to well together as a rule of thumb and are greedy little beggars who make right racket when hungry.

Being a male we had decided to have Stripes done when we got back from our hols in Feb. However the day we were going away Stripes turned up at out place looking slightly the worse for wear. Actually he looked a lot worse for wear and his tail was looking in pretty sorry state and he looked as if he had a one sided argument with a tractor or some other agricultural machine and come a distant second.

The day was saved by Mrs Roynie who called in to make some final arrangements about meeting up with the kids for skiing. MrsR being a cat lover as opposed to pussy lover took pity on Strips and offered to take him to her vet who could sort out the tail and “do” him at the same time. A deal was struck and the hapless Stripes was captured and sent off to his fate and kiss his balls good bye. I have to be honest as a bloke I did feel a pang of guilt but only for few seconds.

The following evening Mrs Roynie rang to say that the operation had gone weel and that Stripes nuts had been taken off but alas his tail was badly broken and the only option was amputation leaving him with a bloody stump.

Poor old stumpy no nuts as he was quickly renamed needed a fair bit of after care and once again MrsR came to the rescue and took nutless to her place until we got back and she looked after him very well.

We picked him up as soon as we got home and you know, the funny thing is that he and Vodka his mother have actually got on much better since the chop.

Everyone loves their mum but in this case we suspect the worst!

Having said that I was sent the following witty dittyn over the weekend by Delboy - you know the bloke, one of my oldest colleagues and friends who  found a skimpy thong up the sleeve of his coat when he came to visit us last year!  Turned out to be his daughters.

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - nose height.
Dear Dogs and Cats,

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming y our food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed.  I am very sorry about this.  Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort.  Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep.  It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible.  I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom.  If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open.  I must exit through the same door I entered.  Also, I have been using the bathroom for years – canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat’s butt.  I cannot stress this enough!
   
To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:  

1. They live here. You don’t.
 
2. If you don’t want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That’s why they call it “fur-niture.)

3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.

Remember: Dogs and cats are better than a lot of kids because they:

1. Eat less
2. Don’t ask for money all the time
3 Are easier to train
4. Normally come when called
5. Never ask to drive the car
6. Don’t hang out with drug-using friends 
7. Don’t smoke or drink
8. Don’t have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don’t want to wear your clothes
10. Don’t need a gaz illion dollars for college, and… 
11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

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.

This weather is Pas Normal.  Another day of clear blue skies and sunshine with temperatures nudging 20c and 25 to 28 in the full on sun.  It is not even cold overnight.   Normally when we have these sunny days it is between -3 and -6 overnight, but last night it was about 8c.  The mega snow that was supposed to have arrived the other day hasn’t.

Enidd in San Fransisco will be able to sleep easy knowing that I am not nut deep  in snow.  I know you have been worrying about this Enidd.

Regular readers will know that I hate kids in ski helmets with a passion.  This feeling of loathing has been increased by the news that friend of mine was hit by a little shit in a helmet and as a result is now in Toulouse with a ruptured kidney which he may well loose.   The good news is that the little f***er in question has seriously damaged his neck and leg.  There is a God after all.I am going to be out of circulation for about a week as I head to the thermal baths to ease my aches and pains, but I will be back home by next Friday all being well.  This remind me of the story of the bloke who had a sore back and went to a swedish massage parlour.  The young lady worked her magic for 20 minutes or so and then asked the punter how he felt.  He replied “The stiffness hasn’t gone miss, just moved”

Ciao bella