Iced Water

Firstly photos of the river frozen: Click on a photo to enlarge.

 A rare view of an ice laden river below the chateau.

It's Saturday and I peel myself out of my warm, warm, bed.

I peel myself out of my warm, warm, bed.
Some may think it terrible but I think it was necessary to go to bed with clothes on, apart from my denim workday jeans and coat.  My hat soon fell off as I lay in bed with my head on the pillow reading horizontally and sideways, reading glasses being pushed off by the pillow.  Hunkered down with an ikea soft muslin-type shawl around my shoulders (the shawl is probably for a baby or child).  I am like that now as I need to be warm and loved in the cold and yet I can love myself when I am warm.  I laugh out loud. I am happy even though conditions are extreme.

This morning I peel myself out of my warm, warm bed.
Not so much shiver but feel the BLAST of cold air as I lift up the edges of the three duvets... I shall go and check these out for tog ratings ...normally the two is sufficient!   
{I think that the use of is, is better than the use of are but I am ready to stand corrected}
I feel the blast and snuggle down, check the clock of which the alarm rang 45 minutes ago.
Now to get up, for a friend is coming to help make a bathroom!
I stand at the side of my bed and an expletive emanates forth from my person.
I jump.  Star jumps.

I have peeled myself from the warm warm bed.
Get the coat on first, and light the fire. I chuckle.  How ridiculous is life!
A huge log has not even burnt in half.  Maybe I left the dampers open and yet one would have thought the log would have burnt through. The glass is relatively clean but I clean it anyway with newspaper and white vinegar, rake the ashes and leave most on the waffle bed, sprinkle with waste paper and kindling wood in a teepee fashion, replace the huge oak log which I temporarily and dangerously removed ..it was cold to the finger touch.. but as the air reached the underneath up-turned,  it was becoming to gently breathe in air and exhale smoke.  Now, all is in place as I push the door to, and whoosh the flames go, for the draft of the air has caused combustion from the heat in the cinders to the paper to the kindling sticks and to the oaken wood.

I need to attend to ablutions (from the Middle French/Late Latin abluere = to wash away) and put on the outer lower garments. I'm looking in the mirror and laughing, to see my face wrinkling and so I laugh more because now I can laugh when before I would have just grumbled.
Better to see amusement in life, better to get through it!

You see, it is 10C in my room and I am not in my warm, warm bed. 
I proceed to the kitchen where an icier blast hits me whilst I pour icy water into the kettle and return to put on a purple-soft, muslin scarf and my Nepalese red hat.  How I remember the "123 learning to read" books about The Red hat, Yellow hat and Blue hat families!!!!   Oh dear, I've disturbed the  blackbird as I peer out of the kitchen window. Bird seeds in a tin are taken outside and put onto the temporary, flat, terracotta tile, balanced on the snow. The soft, soft snow has a hard crust.  Break it and find the flurry of snowflakes sticking together. It's not the snow for making snow sculptures!
I came to the computer to find the correct time... I come to my blog and write... I like writing... I am beginning to like jotting about the moments of a real life....and thoughts, random as they come.
I have just opened the steel, cold gates, having heaved and shoved the wooden ones into an open position, the wooden ones hanging heavy on their hinges dropped on their hinges, scraping the drive heavily.  If I don't get them open I won't be able to get out!   Though I have a back gate.  The daily alarm has already occurred.
A telephone call rings twice to let me know he's leaving: "Get out of your warm, warm bed".
(I am not an early riser, unlike he who has been awake since 3,4,5 or 6 o'clock in the morning)
It'll take him 20 minutes or so in my car.  
He's coming to work on my bathroom.  How I love him for his kindness.  Imagine the dedication and commitment to helping me as his friend despite all our failings, errors, human weaknesses, ability to share joy and security, to annoy and irritate, to create aggression and anger,  passivity and passing of war and peace and all the memories.
An angry person cannot rationalise.  He or she has to be left to recover their inner harmony because it is their anger and their pain, their projection, their difficulty that they cannot say what is wrong and cannot meet their own internal needs without the storm. The angry person needs space... maybe a moment, an hour, a day, 3 months, a lifetime even.  Meanwhile everyone and everything in their path is ruined, even themselves with the anger or frustration turned in against their Self. 
I have been uncontrollably angry.  It was when I did not love myself and had poor self-esteem. My kids made me angry. Work made me angry. I tried to deal with it and then became passive and am now dealing with the consequences of passive-aggressive behaviour.  I am not blaming anyone or criticising anyone. I am facing up to what IS.
My dad was regularly a very angry, hostile man and yet you would never have thought that by his social demeanour.  Some people would never have known the ugliness of my past behaviour and for that I am deeply sorry. Anger is fear, frustration, needs not met and requires an honest, painful telling of the truth even though it may hurt.  It needs strategy for coping with.
Whatever the colour of anger and how it is transmitted I never wish to be angry again. I never want to receive anger from those who have purported to have loved.  Anger is not Love.  I never want to see Anger and Castigation being given to me nor someone else and I never want to hear it being projected onto me or anyone else.  If it starts I have to laugh or just walk away.
Too much thinking.
Stop now whilst I get my tea and toast.
Get on with living. The past cannot be undone but it can be learned from, in my warm, warm bed.

Ten

10th day of February
AT 10 am.
Minus 10C outdoors.
Plus    10C in kitchen and bathroom to be.
12C bedroom.
14C living room.

Improvement

Following on from my previous posting. I am not complacent.  I can always try to do better.

The best that one can do

I'm doing the best that I can:
with exterior morning temperature more than -9C with a 'feels like' -14C according to the metéo locale.  My brand new mercurial thermometer is below the -12C that it shows.
The indoor bedroom temperature is at +9C.
The door is open to another room where the woodburner has almost no red glow and there it is +11C.   The next room, the kitchen has +7C.
Outside in the Municipal where I put the electricity heater on to protect the toilet and water pipes from freezing as they nearly did..... it is +13C... not quite warm enough to have a shower but if I were to put the more powerful electrical radiator on perhaps it would be warmer over there!   I will measure that another time.
I have to confess that last night I slept with all my layers of clothes on minus coat and scarves, with abandonment of the hat at some time... accompanied by two hot water bottles and with three efficient duvets, feeling cold at 6am but getting up at 7am.  All I had to do on waking was to just put coat, hat and scarves on and I was ready for the day, to light the fire and try to get warm.  Star jumps are brilliant for raising the body temperature as also is playing the piano.
I never trusted the digital thermometer. My friend and I had three between us and last year we did a quality control on them. They all read differently both for the interior and exterior communication between digital technology.  Back to ancient barometers and thermometers it is!
So glad I bought this small device yesterday. It is comforting to know. Where I used to live previous to this house, I used to have the horrors in similar extreme weather conditions when I went to the wetroom or bathroom because both rooms were often less than +10C. One made a quick visit to return to the splendour of the 'too hot living room' where the woodburner warmed the room better than toast and where I felt claustrophobia.  I can't complain! We did the best that we could.
I've read that gas connectors can get frozen up so I don't know if that is the case or that I have run out of gas in the cylinder for the gas hob. I have read that it is best not to touch it if at all uncertain. So am I suffering unnecessarily? I am not suffering for I have the electric oven which also has a grill.    So the day before yesterday I put the all-metal frying pan under the grill... warmed up the oil, cracked in the eggs, splashed over the oil, and popped it back under the grill and in a jiffy I had fried eggs (instead of an omelette that I wished for) and wedge potatoes (previously cooked) instead of my chips.
Today I popped about 8 small potatoes in the oven whilst I went to La Presse..... where le monsieur has a shop selling newspapers, magazines, food, postal items, and a bar where he needs to be trained that I like HOT chocolate drink, and trained that I like VERY HOT chocolate drink, and after that with a bar of crunchie chocolate bar, I had a coffee and I sat by the fire and read in French the book I purchased which has the definitive historical guide about my village. A pleasant read for almost an hour... where some old boys came in for the apero before lunch plus an Englishman I've seen before who speaks impeccable French. I only knew he was English because he let slip a few English words with English accent. Here I was, the old girl, sitting by the café-bar fireside, with my Haute-Savoie / Nepalese red hat with flowery tassels and my black woollen coat and my brown silk and woollen scarf over all the rest of my attire.
So here I am... doing the best that one can!
And over there, wherever you are .... you, he, she, they are doing the best that they can.
It is all anyone can ever do.
To be truthful to who we are.
I am trying so hard not to tell lies, not even to my self.
I received someone's irritation and more today, but it was really about someone else and yet it was projected on to me.  Later I heard someone else's anger, but not at me, not about me, however, in that context I could help the person because the 'she' was able to do anger management control whereas the 'he' lets it damage himself and everyone and everything that comes in his path. Shame.
As far as I know, I don't get angry anymore and yet I know that in the past I have been angry with my SELF and my family and even my best soulmate.
NOW that I am older and distanced from being a parent and a grandparent because they are far from me, I realise that some of the anger I had was borne out of frustration, having very little constructive and positive ME time, though there were times when I was alone. Usually it was consumed by work or study or poor relationships and having few, if any, people to advise me, support me in a proactive manner. My cousin was always supportive even in the direst of emergencies. She would bring the medicinal Armagnac, give me one small dose, sometimes two, a hug, wise words and disappear to her own family.  I had a female friend who took the children to give me space.  I have regrets but they have to be released. I was responsible then for my sometimes poor parenting as well as for my good parenting but I am not responsible now for them.  I think my children do not hold it against me.  I did the best that I could.
What is the purpose  of causing pain to one self?  One would not wish to hurt another person so why get angry with anyone or the SELF?

Oh how I loved them and still do. Great for dancing and getting warm!
Paul is doing the best that he can!

Jewels for a Blackbird

Observations

I've watched the blackbird hungrily eating these beautiful pendants hanging in a garden not far from the river.  
I had a robin to help, scuttling in the borders of the courtyard when the birdseed was under several centimetres of snow, here more sheltered than in the back garden.
There is a miniature cave of bubble wrap over my bright red Camelia which was in flower shortly before the North Wind brought its gift of snow and ice.  
A cosy cave of bubble wrap where the wind has whipped it adrift and the darling little fluffedupballofredwhitegrey was sheltered in there saying "Hey feed me" as I peered out of the kitchen window. 
Blackbird, robin, blue-tit and long-tailed tit have been seen visiting my garden.  

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Today I was singing and dancing 
as I stepped through the snowy hedged woodland 
where the angled branches of the trees criss-crossed each other 
as the pattern was highlighted by the white snow resting on the tops of the lines of the branches. 
I had no camera. 
Today I was singing and dancing 
along the snowpacted lane feeling the joy of living 
to witness such regal majesty of the wintry phenomena of frozen water 
and the prints imprinted of animals, humans, wheeled vehicles, skis and tobaggons; 
all had been there before before me with tracks to places known and unknown. 
Today I was singing and dancing 
to let the bright light into my eyes and heart 
and let it make me tired and content.

Snow Chateau

It's earlyish in the morning and I love the way the light has affected my photo when I have not changed the settings.

The red car enhances the chateau in the snow.

My street  05-01-2012 4pm

Ice by the river bank near the weir.

compared to the swollen river 6 weeks ago.

Fire and Ice

I woke up this morning, eager for the day, 

things to do and happy to say

that I am burning almost the last log of 5 steres.

Ho hum.

The winter has been mild and 'we', the 'Royal we', made savings 

and now pay for it later.  

It is the Law of Life. 

I complain not,  until,  I view my other woodburner
which at about 11pm last night I lit to warm up the icy rooms where lie oak parquet.  

Trees stand in winter so why did I do that when I am not there and cannot afford this year to keep the two fires alight night and day.  

It is an L shaped house - ground floor only - a veritable bungalow
with two large cavernous empty attics.  

Digression! 

On the hearth is a brown liquid which stops before it spills over the edge. 

 Behind the dead fire is evidence that treacly stuff has gone below the glass.  

I have emailed the Monsieur and sent photos but no reply. It is Saturday.  Monday I am sure they are closed. Tuesday I will be calling in! Monday I will call my insurance company. 

I cannot understand. 

Only two weeks ago the fire was blazing for a good 12 hours
and le chaleur was impressionant a mes amis. 

Pourquoi ????? For what indeed!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am concerned that I shall only feel secure if the whole job is refait!

          Meanwhile just outside the door of the same room hangs an icicle.  My very own! 

LANGUAGE:

le chaleur = the heat or warmth
impressionnant = impressive
Le travail devra être refait  = The work will have to be redone.

Wrapped up well - a sort of poem

Wrapped up well

Walking down the lane

Freezing air shock to respiratory system

Struggling to keep an even pattern

Breathing natural replacement of oxygen

Striving to breath correctly in through nose, out through mouth.

Steaming spectacles

Worn to prevent wind whipping into eyes

Doesn’t stop streaming tear glands

Like an old biddy.

Move arms as well as legs to keep warm.

Take hand out of glove to press a button for a photo.

Immediately fingers and thumbs are nipped.

Quickly enter glove again.

Move legs in a specific stride.

Regain a rhythm, an unconscious achievement.

After a while breathing becomes natural.
Doesn’t require concentration.
 

The body feels no cold

even though wind cuts like a knife on ice on the forehead,

the only skin exposed under a hat

scarves wrapped around neck, nose and mouth.

 

Study the tractor in the field

Using to advantage the frozen ground

Dig the bucket under the mighty rock

To and fro he works at it from all sides

slowly exposing it from the earth into the trailer.

Farmers see advantage in all weathers.

It makes me happy.

Wend my way into wind with lengthening shadows before me.

Turn at the junction.  
Head back

with sun before me now shining warmly on my face 

as robin flutters overhead in the branches of a tree.

Jewelled beads of ice shimmer in hedgerow skeletons.

Look at a little old lady in a purple coat and white hat.

Oh, am I like that
in my black snowman’s outfit?

Wrapped up warm, 
many layers,

breathing in the freshness from Siberia,

Happy to not be there.

Happy to be here.

Winter Parts - a prosepoem

Winter Parts

PART ONE

Wrap up well my mother said

as I ventured into sub-zero temperature

for a walk.

There's no work on my house.

PART TWO

Last year the diary said

there was ice on the roads

after skidding up the hill.

There was no work on my house.

Sat in the cold and the sunshine warm
of the lightest room of the darkest house

hey a bit like today
did the finance in a room with light daylight
and electric light

whilst the woodburner glows bright.

Last year we were glad to return

because next day news

reported

hospitals

patiently healing traffic accident patients.

PART THREE

Keep the log fires burning said my friend

churning out heat

requires careful observation
listen to the moment to add a next log

before embers crash

into ash

and flames die.

PART FOUR

Last year today

I finished a book entitled

The Suckers Kiss

then got depressed.

This year today

I finished a book entitled

Notes from Walnut Tree Farm
Roger Deakin

Printed posthumously.
I didn't get depressed. 

Sobbed

is not the word

as I once stood dumbstruck

in a Southwold bookshop

as Wildwood told me news
that he had died quite sadly
before his time.
I never knew.
A wonderful kind and gentle man
funny and serious
interested in the natural existence
of worldly things.

PART FIVE

Today I am happy

Delighted to know the snow

Is helping trees plants and humans

Shed germs and diseases.

Pleased to see jewelled ice beads

Clinging to twigs

Sparkling magically in sunlight.

Laughing at absurdities

Which are necessary learning tools.

Smiling at realisation

Feeling the key of why I can love so many people and so many things,
even those who do me wrong.

I love the snow: it does not love me but it matters not.

I love my hot water bottle: it does not love me but it matters not.

I love my cat and she loves me but it matters not.

I love my friends and family in ways they do not know

It is not for them.
They love me but

They do not have to love me for I love myself,

better than I did before.

My love is my love:

It is not for others. Need not be reciprocated.

This is what is making me feel so happy!
Now I understand. 
There's no work on my house but there's work in my head.

 

Winter sweeps ' la quotidienne'

How wonderful to see 'la neige'.

 The daffodils in bloom since New Year are now covered with bubble wrap!

The sky!

LANGUAGE:
la quotidienne = the routines of daily life.
I could have said "la vie" meaning life or "la vie de tous les jours = daily life
la neige   = (easy one) the snow

Gingerbread Parkin and Raku pottery

In the last few weeks I have indulged in making three batches of this winter cake: Gingerbread Parkin

I have a wonderful book called “Talking about Cakes” by Margaret Bates. It has an emphasis on Irish and Scottish tastes. This was published in 1964 and she died in 1968.  I bought it in 1973 and has been such a mainstay that the pages have come adrift from their sewn binding and the pages are brown.  It should go with me to my grave, but not before I have passed on several of my favourite recipes and this was another….. a prelude to flapjacks.  The recipes have to be converted to metric but that’s easily done.
Yesterday I went to a Raku course given by my pottery teacher. I’d already modelled several things which needed glazing but during the morning I made two more items. They’ll wait for the next Raku firing as they have to be dried, I think!   It is rather challenging to listen to French people for a two hour lunch and later to get into trouble because although I know I shouldn’t, I HAD managed to cover my fingers in oxide glaze! 

 Well, I digress, as usual!  Even though I am ‘off task’ from domestic cleaning tasks, I am attending to two admin tasks:

1.   Provide the recipe for the RAKU group. They think they can substitute the golden syrup for honey or maple syrup!  I know this will not be the same but actually I should try it and see.  

      I have to translate the recipe into French!

2.   Provide the posting for this blog site.

PARKIN  comes from the North of England especially in the Leeds region.  It is a form of gingerbread and is best kept for up to a week but fresh from the oven it is delicious with stewed apples and a clod of cream.

So here we go:  Mix together the following dried ingredients:

225g flour

225g oatmeal

100g sugar or 110g if you prefer it sweeter

2 tsps baking powder

2 tsps ginger or I use 1 of ginger and 1 of cinnamon

In a pan warm and melt together 55g butter, a very large dollop of golden syrup and the same of black treacle. The recipe says 165g of each but it’s messy weighing it out! Add some milk, beat well and remove before it starts to get hot. 

Mix with the dry ingredients, add more milk if necessary until it is a pouring consistency. Pour into a greased shallow tin and bake in a hot oven for about 20 minutes or so. Keep an eye and remove when golden brown and firm or bouncy to the touch. 

A thankyou tribute to my lovely daughter

It was thirty four years ago today

I was struggling to make my way,

With sliced oranges in a preserving pan

Making marmalade for me and my man

So may I introduce to you

My daughter naturally true

Miss Happiness was her name

And for that I'm glad I am to blame

For calling her Felicity

'cos with speed and velocity

She arrived into this wonderful world

A beautiful pink baby pearl.
ohhhhhh
Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band
It's wonderful to be here
It gives me such a thrill
She's such a lovely audience
and makes me feel so good
I don't really want to stop the show

but I thought you might like to know

I am happy just today to say

a very very Happy birthday.

And so it was that I started at about 5h in the morning, stage 2 of my special motherly recipe for making marmalade which involved cutting finely by hand the seville oranges, sweet oranges and lemons on that second day of making the best marmalade in the world!  At about 7h or later in the evening it was jarred.  And so, I was free to give birth for I was elephantine and if I sat down could not get up again.  I too was jarred with stirring and jangled because I was having this baby.  I refused to go to the hospital earlier because of frightful experiences with what happened when I gave birth the first time with my dearest son,  and so I waited until I was sure that those waves of pain were the real thing.  When I arrived at the hospital at about 20h30 I told the nurses “I am having a baby”.  I remember the look on Matron’s face as she smilingly and kindly spoke “Of course you are”.   Why else would I be arriving at a maternity hospital like a beached whale?   However, I insisted urgently that I WAS HAVING the baby!  It was a small cottage hospital. Nonchalantly, they allowed me to go to the toilet unaided, whereupon the waters broke, I collapsed on the floor yet had the good sense to pull the alarm cord and so they came running in their uniforms. Within a few minutes at 8h53pm the darling Felicity was born!  Miss Happiness.  I felt that I was lucky to now have one son and one daughter. It was my wish come true.

She hasn’t always caused happiness to either herself or others, being a very challenging person, but the worry was well worth it because I now feel a great affinity with her, and the more we see each other, as we get older, the more we seem to get on well together.  But of course I cannot speak for her.  I praise her for her ability as a mother in coping with a parenting situation that is very different to my experience as a mother, as was my own experience different to the trials of my own mother.  I respect daughters.  I respect  mothers.  I respect what supportive father's do too.  Being a conscientious parent is not the easiest of jobs and it IS a job,  it is a career and as mothers we work hard for the heartache of pain AND joy that sons and daughters bring to us.
My daughter has a wealth of ideas and self confidence. She has many creative talents and abilities.   We come from a family where the women appear to be late developers.  I am hoping that in 2012, or whenever, she will find a way to use her skills, interests and talents in a way that brings more confidence, success and happiness.  May doors open for her.    Happy Birthday, my lovely one.

28 January 1978 Top of the Pops chart
Number 1 was "Stayin Alive" by the BeeGees
Number 20  was "What's your Name?" by Lynrd Skynrd

Census

Each year, the National Institute of Economic Statistics and Studies (INSEE) uses information provided from the census to calculate the country's current population and latest changes within society.   

Selected households across the nation are required to provide personal information which enables the government to come up with ideas for future policies concerning employment and housing.  This year's survey is from 19th January until Sunday 18^th  February for our village and I think that the dates may vary for other villages, or cities and towns.   Residents are notified and subsequently receive a visit from a member of staff in possession of an official identity card.  These professionals offer help and assistance in answering the questions related to the survey. 

The census is in two parts: the first includes 15 questions concerning housing,  and the second has 25 questions about age, place of birth, nationality, education, previous place of residence and current occupation.  We are told that the information in the survey remains confidential and anonymous. 

According to French law I am obliged to answer the census questionnaire for 2012.  I complete one about 4 or 5 years ago.  In our region of France the household is visited, the agent fills in the form and my signature is required.  The process with me took less than 15 minutes. As a retiree I presume I am now ‘unimportant ‘ as I did not have as many questions asked as those who are younger or who are in employment. 

Matters that were of interest:

·      Age of property

·      How many bedrooms? This provided a difficulty because I maintain that the smallest room is an office and that there is only one bedroom.  The rooms of my house are all on the ground floor but the house is not a bungalow.  Therefore, How many rooms? The number did not have to include the kitchen if it was less than 10m₂ and did not include the bathroom.  I did not include the pantry because that is also less than 10m₂. It seems surprising that there is no census of how many French houses have a bathroom? And why isn’t a kitchen important? For me it is the most important room of the house (apart from where I sleep). It is the social hub of the house.  I know that some French houses have a combined living room and kitchen and in some small houses these rooms are less than 10m₂.  Outcome: my property has been degraded to 4 rooms instead of 7.

·      Habitable surface of the whole house.   She wanted to know if it was between80 and 100m2.

·      Was I the owner?

·      How many people live in the house?

·      What was my nationality?

·      What was my status?  husband, wife, partner, pacsed, celibataire, etcetera, although she did not name all of these.

·      When did I move into the house? Even though I was the owner on one date it WAS the moving in date,14 months later that was important for her. 

·      Principal source of heating.  Logs. It mattered not that the house could have the facility for central heating fuel when I re-install the radiators or that sometimes I use an electrical heater.

·      Do I have a car? How many?

·      My date of birth and where I was born? The latter confused her as she was not sure whether to write England or the exact place of birth

·      Date of arrival as resident in France. She assumed this was the date I moved into the house so I had to correct her on that. So next question was Where did I lived before ?

·      Was I retired? and What did I do before I retired?

Anyone who is further interested could go to

http://www.insee.fr/en/bases-dedonnees/default.asp?page=recensements.htm

French Kettles in the Kitchen

I am using the 4th French kettle in less than a year and I've developed an aversion.  Kettles seem to have become astronomically expensive and I am reluctant to spend a lot of money when they keep being faulty.  Then there is the calcium which appears in the boiled water (it lurks horribly in the kettle and in tea).  I use a water filter, admittedly not all the time, and I know someone who passes the water through coffee filters which are re-usable.

A couple of years ago, I kept the kettle box and receipt and just a few weeks before the guarantee ran out, the kettle failed.  So bravely, I returned it to the French shop for a replacement.  However, because the guarantee period was almost over I was happy for the kettle to be tested for a fault and honesty pays, for indeed the inspector agreed it was not good, so they gave a chit for the value to be spent in the shop on another kettle or comme vous voulez.  It's only recently that French shops have agreed to no-hassle-refund.  Since then I've bought cheaper kettles, 9 euros, from a GIANT supermarket shop whose name is not dissimilar from the mighty ocean!  One of these I returned within a month.  I bought another...and the same thing happened after 3 months.  It turned itself on and burnt out! I don't feel I should return it but I will.  It is true that on occasions I have left the kettle to boil when there is no water in it but I'm better at not doing that these days.  Recently, I bought a Severin brand, half price in the sale, normally 60 euros.   Cautiously wary the creature that I am,  I'm keeping the kettle on a plate instead of on its electrical device when it is not boiling water.  However, I've noticed that the plastic lid which opens slowly when a button is pressed to fill it with water,  does not fit exactly so when I DO switch it on, it continues to boil for a long time before cutting out.  I've decided to take it back as the kitchen fills with steam if I leave the kettle to boil and wander to another room.

I thought I would look on Amazon and see what the options are as well as look in other shops that sell electrical household products.  But how does one return faulty goods to Amazon?  It will cost postage when it's not my fault!
However, not all is bleak,  I once bought a LIDL kettle which was excellent as it had a 3 year guarantee as opposed to a one year guarantee and that particular kettle lasted just over the 3 years.  Disappointingly, they are only in the LIDL shops at certain times of the year. And they do not always appeal to me in their design feature. Hey ho ... it's a kettle.

Years ago I had a wonderful Russell Hobbs .. very stylish.. maybe I shall investigate that.  Perhaps even look at John Lewis now that they sell online and deliver to France.  I can use a European converter plug because one is not supposed to change plugs these days! 

I could go back to boiling the water in a saucepan but it's not as nice as having an electric kettle. That reminds me I have a beautiful, expensive, camping kettle in my attic store....it's about 30 years old.... and as good as new.  Really, excellent design.  I could use that on the gas hob and listen for the whistle. 

Car repair

Apart from noises at the front of the vehicle to do with the offside wheel and steering, which necessitated two visits and of course a cost, the garagiste heard a noise from the rear wheel and on investigation discovered that the rear drum brake had broken into two parts!
The initial noise was 3 clacks - one as the car started to roll forward and two as I drove onto the road turning in a sharp right S shape. The car was oiled at suspension points and 12 screws tightened under the chassis, I think for the steering rack joints. When I started to leave the garage there was a different gravel crunching noise.  I called Monsieur J who listened, who called Monsieur E who listened, who suggested I take my car as it was not serious and when the French MOT is due in February and I still have the noise in perhaps warmer weather then to let them know!  Hm?  After I left the garage and within a very short distance I had two new noises that weren't there before:

1. a squeak as I turn the steering wheel to the left 

2. the brakes squealed as I journeyed to the petrol station. 

I found myself writing about the differences between the language of France and England in an email to a friend.
"The car repair bill made a large dint in the pocket but now the vehicle is safe.  It was unknowingly dangerous before the repair.  It was a blessing that there was no accident."
This set me thinking about the use of the word  bless .

LANGUAGE:
It was a blessing that there was no accident. 

C'était une bénédiction qu'il n'y avait aucun accident. 
A blessing in disguise = mal pour un bien

 blesser  verb transitif =  to injure, to wound 

Il a été blessé dans un accident de voiture.    He was injured in a car accident.  

blesser = to hurt physically as well as to cause offence

Il a fait exprès de le blesser.    He hurt him on purpose. 

 blessées = casualties
  
 to bless = bénir
 A blessing = une bénédiction (as from the Catholic religion)
Bless you! = a tes souhaits!
Bless you! when thanking someone = Merci mille fois tu es un ange = Thank you a thousand times you are an     
angel.    

If you are blessed with a gift  =être doué(e)  de  
 Elle est douée d'un immense talent.= She is blessed with immense talent.  

Update on the bathroom

 

                 A space becomes a room when the concrete floor is tiled and grouted. 

It even feels like a room as one treads carefully, feeling the splendour of potential, visualising the warmth of water! 

In the far left corner the frame for the toilet water cistern is now screwed firmly to the floor. 

Each step has to be thoroughly thought about... the diagrams for installation have to be studied, yet again, measurements must be made, drilling 6 holes for the long bolt fixation screws through the tiles into the concrete floor must be accurately executed as there is no millimetre allowance for error.  

The waste connection pipe was being a beast to connect and seemed impossible,  but then after both kneeling and manoeuvring it,  trying to understand the conundrum of why there was insufficient space to angle the white tube into the grey waste pipe, whilst listening to some choice words, I just did it!!!!!! Twist it away from the target then another twist and hey voila!  Maybe a plumber I could be!  As he said it takes a woman!  Then it was tea time treats!