Behind my French Windows

In these strange times, we do strange things...

I made a video for my English classes who are, like me, in confinement.

I do hope they follow my advice.

Take care and stay at home!

1989

Abi's new single is out - she's dancing, like it's 1989.

In 1989, she was a mere twinkle in my eye, of course but she probably remembers me dancing around the kitchen in my apron, with my cool eighties' moves.

I inspire people that way...

Running Free

My daughter's new single is out so I'm plugging the video here!

Not sure how she managed to ride a bicycle in those shoes though...

At the car wash, yeah

My car failed its contrôle technique last month so I’m taking it to be fixed tomorrow.

Thing is, it was a bit grubby. The man who did the MOT remarked – between guffaws- that moss was sprouting from the window frames. I was mortified.

So today, I bravely ventured to the car wash.

Now, I have been avoiding this for years (hence the moss). Anything mechanical or electronic terrifies me. I do not understand instructions and invariably I end up getting it all wrong. Filling my tank with LPG is one example. The instructions make no sense to me and the last time I attempted it (after asking for help from a charming young man), I only managed to put in a few millilitres. Apparently, you’re supposed to keep your finger pressed on that green button. It didn’t say that, though, on the instructions.

I’ve also replaced my windscreen wipers and put the new ones on backwards, tried to wrench open a massive industrial container at the tip in order to dispose of my old printer (You’re meant to put it on the table next to the container! yelled an alarmed council worker) and please don’t ask me to change the clock on my cooker when the time comes – I’ll just break it.

So I was very, very nervous as I tootled along to Top O Net this morning, hoping that it would be deserted and that I could fumble incompetently without an audience.

No such luck. There were loads of people and when it was my turn, I had to ask for help because I didn’t know where to put my money, which button to press or where the hosepipe thingy was.

Once I’d understood, it was all rather fun. Hot, soapy water shooting out of the hose at high pressure, swishing away all that plant material. Easy-peasy.

Then it stopped. No problem – I just dropped the hose and ran to put in another coin, which wasn’t very clever of me as the hose came to life again, jerking wildly all over the place as I tried to catch it before it made a break for freedom.

Red-faced and dripping, I finished the job and moved on to the vacuum cleaner ahead.

After a minute or two pressing several button-shaped protuberances which weren’t buttons at all, I realised that the machine hadn’t accepted my one-euro coin, so I put in a two-euro coin and whooooosh – we were off !

But two euros buys you quite a lot of hoovering time. I’d vacuumed the floor, the seats, the pockets, the boot and it was still sucking away while an impatient queue was forming behind me. So I sat inside and hoovered everything that could possibly be hoovered : the clutch pedal, the gearstick, the radio, my feet…

Finally, it stopped and, donning my dark glasses, I made my exit with as much dignity as I could muster.

My car is parked outside now, sparkling in the afternoon sun and I shall drive it to the garage tomorrow without a hint of shame.

My next exciting project will be the assembling of a bookcase from Ikea.

I’ll let you know…

And the beat goes on...

This year's Fête de la Musique saw me huddled desperately over the piano, practising hymns for Sunday, Les Dawson style.

Meanwhile, my daughter was doing her thing in Chambéry.

Hmmmm. Maybe she doesn't take after me at all...

My little Star

My youngest daughter is finally doing what she always wanted to do : living it up on the Côte d’Azur (ok, not living it up exactly, but certainly living) and writing and performing songs.

And in return for my support, long-suffering and food parcels, I hope soon to reap the benefits in the form of a small but charming villa in Provence.

Because I, too, like to dream…

Well done, sweetheart xxx

Ahmed, the Good Samaritan

I seem to have become a bit of a wuss since The Menopause.

I used to be confident about doing all sorts of things: DIY, rewiring plugs, getting rid of computer viruses, going to the loo in unfamiliar cafés without wandering into the broom cupboard by mistake (ok, that’s not true – I’ve always had problems there) and changing the car battery.

Not any longer. I have become a jittery lily-livered wimp of a woman, too scared to do anything in case I inadvertently die.

My car battery did die, on the other hand, about a month ago. It didn’t help that I’d left the warning lights on for three days but it was getting a tad menopausal itself, so I needed a new one.

And suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by the task. I watched videos, studied websites, wrote down a list of appropriate tools and procrastinated admirably until finally, today, I set off to the second-nearest supermarket to buy a new battery.

Oh boy, was it heavy! I had to put it down every ten steps and change arms before they were wrenched from their sockets. It was going to take me forever to get home…

 “Oh Lord,” I said, “Please send someone to help!”

And He did. Immediately.

A car stopped and a total stranger leaned out of the window and asked if I wanted a lift. Now, I no longer get into cars with total strangers (that’s all in my past) but my arms didn’t seem to be working properly anymore so I had little choice.

Not only did this kind man go out of his way to take me home, he also offered to change the battery for me, improvising with the inappropriate (as it turned out) tools I’d just bought. It was a long job.

His name is Ahmed. I told him he was the answer to my prayer; he told me it was Destiny as he doesn’t usually take the route he took today but did so on a whim. We had a brief theological discussion beneath the bonnet and parted ways.

So although you won’t read this, thank you lovely Ahmed.

And yes, girls. The Taxi Service is back in action…