FROG BLOG

Sometimes (well, very occasionally - okay, once in a blue moon) I wonder if we've done the right thing in moving out here. But today ain't one of 'em.

Friday is market day in Felletin, our local town. Starts about nine and ends around mid-day. Popped down there ce matin with Georgie and Don who are here for a week's break. Wasn't too crowded despite the glorious weather. But it'll all be different next week when the Brits start coming over with their brats who've broken up from school. Don't think I've ever taken any snaps of Felletin. Have now.

Can't believe this weather. Rain, rain and more rain. Grey and dismal. Seems to have been like this for weeks. But last night, just before sunset, having got drenched on a dogwalk and having lit the kitchen stove (in mid-June???), I had a very brief reminder of what the sun looks like when it suddenly poked its head out from behind the clouds.

Lost count of how many times I've snapped this view from the boudoir fenetre. It constantly changes with the seasons, weather and time of day. Sometimes clear, sometimes misty, sometimes colourful, sometimes grey and sometimes it even disappears altogether (and I don't mean night-time!). Fascinating to watch and still as enthralling as the first time I saw it over four years ago (or was it five?) when I first arrived on my fly-splattered Fireblade to meet a relative of the seller who'd been lumbered with showing me round the dilapidated shack. Weather was awful then too. Grey, misty and raining. Not ideal conditions to view an old house with a leaky roof. But there was something about the view and setting that grabbed me.

Anyway, I make no apologies for showing this view yet again. At least I can look at it in the depths of midwinter just to remind myself of what it's like when the sun's setting at virtually its highest point on the horizon, just a couple of days before the longest day of the year.

P.S. - Just remembered I included this view in my very first posting of 17 August '05. Changed a bit since then.

eBay has its critics but I'm not one of them. Having been a member for about five years now, I think I can say that, providing you use a little common sense with your transactions (I've completed 149 so far), it's a thunderingly excellent means of buying and selling - especially if you're a hermit recluse comme moi.

Couple of weeks ago, I used eBay to sell my Africa Twin motorcycle (couldn't be arsed to go through all the hoops and red tape that French bureaucrats put in the way of anyone wishing to register a UK reg. vehicle out here). Went to a very friendly Dutch lady who lives 'oop north' in the UK. And a couple of days later, I bought a BMW bike (1988 1000cc R100GS) advertised by a French chap from Ste. Maxime, down south.

Through the wonders of the internet I tracked down a British 'white van man' who'd recently moved to France (Poitou Charente region) and arranged for him to deliver the Africa Twin then pick up the Beemer on his way back from doing another delivery in Italy (we're all very international out here!). Still worked out cheaper than doing it myself.

Bike arrived Saturday evening. Checked it over on Sunday, pumped up the tyres and put some fresh petrol in the tank, started her up and listened for any engine rattles. Sounded fine. Was then tempted to give her a quick spin but thought better of it as I wasn't insured and the bike wasn't yet registered with local plates. The effects of losing my driving licence would be disastrous. Anyway, my reluctance to hit the road only lasted about half a second so I was soon on my way, thumping around the back lanes. Marvellous. Rode about ten miles then slung her back in the garage.

Today I hope to get insured and, later this week, I hope to get the necessary paperwork done at the Prefecture in Gueret in order to get her registered with a new number plate. Then, at last, I can legally be a biker again, albeit a boring old fart on a boring old Beemer. Roll on summer! Talking of which, when will it arrive? Still grey and dismal out here. Am thinking about lighting that boudoir stove again...

Had a brief but interesting phone conversation yesterday with the chap who's selling me his BMW R100GS motorcycle. He speaks English marginally better than I speak French, so, after a bit of initial confusion, we ended up speaking in English. Part of the conversation went a bit like this:

Him: Ze alternator has mice. (I think he said 'alternator' but on reflection it may have been 'odometer'.)
Me: The alternator has mice!? (Bit worried that mice had been nibbling the electrics.)
Him: Yes, mice.
Me: Mice? Souris? (French for mice, I think.)
Him: (A tad confused...) Non, not souris. Mice!
Me: (Equally confused...) Mice... not souris?
Him: Yes, mice!! Ze alternator has mice, not kilometres!!
Me: Ah, miles!
Him: (Getting a bit flustered) YES!! MICE, MICE!!
Me: So, okay, the compteur (speedo) is in miles not kilometres. Yes?
Him: Voila! Yes! Ze compteur is in mice! Zis is because eet ees one of the first GSs en France.
Me: Is this a problem for the registration?
Him: Non. No probleme.

Interesting stuff this parlez-vousing sur le telephone. Anyway, all being well, the bike should turn up this week-end. It's a good 'un. Twenty years old and only 20,000 mice.

So there I was, polishing up my mascara and eyeliner technique, when I suddenly realised it had gone a bit dark outside. Strange for mid-afternoon. Looked out the window and sure enough, a storm was brewing. Heading straight for us.

Er, mascara and eyeliner...? Yup. But despite what you're thinking and contrary to popular belief, I'm not that type of girl. Make-up just ain't for me. Tried it a few times of course, as one does, but couldn't get the hang of it. The truth of the matter is that I have to do a few diagrams showing the basics of how to apply mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow. And, unfortunately, my knowledge of such matters is somewhat limited so, for further enlightenment, I'd resorted to Googling the jolly old internet thingy wotsit.

With the storm rapidly approaching, I reluctantly terminated proceedings, switched off the computer and set about trying to placate the two mutts who, with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling, were beginning to get a bit anxious. Jock had already hidden under the table and was shivering with fear at my feet and hyperventilating and salivating uncontrollably. Sprock, normally fearless in such circumstances, seemed intent on drawing blood from my forearm with his sharp claws. Maybe he was scared. Or maybe he just wanted to play. Who knows. Patterdales can be a bit funny like that.

Just as I was about to nip downstairs to switch off the electricity, lightning struck across the valley, thus causing the electricity to automatically switch itself off. No problem, I thought. But I was wrong. I'd forgotten that the telly and laptop were still plugged in to their aerials. And with the next lightning flash, almost directly overhead, there was a 'phut' from the laptop. "Oh, bother," I muttered as I quickly pulled the two aerial wires from their sockets, immediately thinking I'd have to buy Don another computer (this one's borrowed). My second thought was that the telly might also be 'fried'. Disaster. No more Euro footy. Damn, cobblers and botheration.

When the storm had passed, I nipped downstairs with Jock clinging in fear to my right foot, switched the electricity back on, limped back upstairs with Jock still clinging on for dear life, and nervously switched on the laptop. Amazingly, it still worked. Did the same with the telly and... yup, still appeared to be working. Hurrah!

Eventually prised my leg away from Jock's firm grip and stepped outside for a dogwalk. Gushing water and puddles everywhere. Must have been an absolute deluge. And I gather you lot back in the Cesspit have been having glorious weather. Well, lucky old you. Enjoy it while you can. That storm seemed to be heading northwards...