Well, I seem to have succeeded in deleting the last four month's blog, thinking I was deleting drafts. Bugger. Following is a re-hash of the latest entry that I deleted.
It's so embarrassing when you invite people to visit, and they cop a parking ticket because you've failed to brief them on the village's arcane seasonal parking regulations. Such a fate befell Immy and Jon when they and the girls called in for lunch on their way home from Spain. For some reason they were unable to pay their €17 fine in the various Tabacs they called at on their way north, so when I was back in the UK recently, they gave it to me to deal with. The Mairie was unable to take a cash payment. I'd to trek up to the Tabac and buy the necessary stamp, then walk the paperwork back down to the Mairie. Sometimes I think that the gallic psyche relishes pointless and complex administrative details. (Getting into and out of the Post Office, for example, now practically requires a City & Guilds in operating the new security system. Still, it hasn't been axed yet, so one shouldn't grumble.)
Neighbours Kate and John would tell you a thing or two about trying to get connected to broadband. I remember all too clearly how attempting the same process myself a couple of years ago left me incandescent with fury at the bum-shuffling, rude incompetence of the people I spoke to - Martyn thought I was going to bust a blood vessel. And that was on the rare occasions when they could be bothered answering their phones. In K&J's case, France Télécom contented themselves with saying 'sorry, can't be done' and they were forced to pay a broker a king's ransom to unscramble the bureaucracy. It turns out that their line was at one time shared, and still carried a label in the FT files saying that uses of the line were limited in consequence. Well, all's well that ends well-ish: with a little help from said brokers, I was soon able to connect through their router with my laptop. Not so John's PC, unfortunately: when it was thrown together (in the late middle ages, by the look of it), it plainly wasn't intended to connect via a router. Disappointing, though, that the well-paid brokers concluded that they couldn't fix it without extra payment. K&J have other computers, so ought to be in business next time they come.
We've been doing some shunting of furniture. Martyn is building a new model railway layout upstairs in the studio, and has built a baseboard about 9' by 2'6". It fits into the end of the room where we usually store the outside table and chairs, so we've brought down a big desk to make space. Said desk has suffered badly from having a 19" CRT monitor parked on it, and my attempts at running repairs have not so far been a brilliant success. Anyway, it's a better desk for the downstairs computer, and goes neatly into the drawing room, obviating the need for an extra side table for the printer. The exercise has concentrated minds a little, however. Other clutter in the studio included said old monitor, which is serviceable but no longer useful, plus a broken turntable and a duff printer, which, together with a few redundant or broken bits and pieces from other hidey holes round the place will shortly make up a cargo for the déchetterie intercommunale. The code around here for such stuff is 'Auntie's good gramophone': doubtless of quality and functioning well, but sadly overtaken by time. By the same token, I probably ought to take a header into the déchetterie myself while I'm there.
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