Sarkozy - King of France ?

You all know that France is a republic, the last king being Louis-Philippe I, who reigned from 1830 through to 1848 before fleeing the country as the newest Republic was being formed. The previous monarch, Louis XVI, had been beheaded for having the misfortune to be the king when one of France's many revolutions were taking place, so Louis-Philippe decided hiding in the Alps was a better bet for a longer life and headed to Switzerland.

Since those days, there have been many claims by people to the (non-existant) throne of France. Indeed only a few months ago, several people put their claims forward on the basis that there is always talk of France returning to the situation where they have a figurehead monarch but a President who actually runs the country. The latest claimant is a 48 year old Indian lawyer – how he comes to be descended from Louis-Philippe is anyone’s guess?

So – is this a history lesson? Nope – the link is that whilst France’s old Kings ruled without recourse to anyone and did basically what they liked (which got most of them beheaded), good old Sarky is doing the same today.

I don’t know too much about French politics, but it would appear that what Sarko wants, Sarko gets, unlike the UK, or even the US, where there are elected representatives who can reign in (pun intended) any extreme measures trying to be pushed through by the President or the Prime Minister.

But none of that democracy stuff in France. Oh no - Sarkozy is currently running around like a power-crazed monarch. Last year he sacked a Police official in Corsica because he let demonstrators get too close to the villa of a pal of his. In February 2008, Sarky dismissed the head honcho in Normandy for letting striking school teachers get within earshot of the President and shouting things at him. Aaaaah – poor Sarky! And now – the latest sacking and what a stink it’s caused.

Carla Bruni’s mum and dad, Sarky’s parents-in-law, have a fancy villa down on the Côte D,Azur and are fed up with their septic tank system because occasionally it pongs. They approached the local officials to try and get a proper, mains drainage system installed and arranged a meeting with the other villa owners to discuss the plans which were going to cost quite a bit. The other owners started objecting, so Sarky instructed his lackeys to organize another meeting which he attended unannounced and declared that ‘the state would pay‘.

The poor local official, called the Prefecture, (basically a sort of Governor) who was also in attendance, had to agree as he assumed good old Sarky would come up with the cash but of course, several months down the line, he realizes he was ‘had’. Without the cash, the drains could not be installed and Sarky’s mother-in-law is giving her son-in-law quite a bit of grief.

So Sarky sacks his Prefecture in the Var (next department to Alpes Maritime) and sends him back into the deepest recesses of government where, no doubt, he’ll be form filling for the rest of his life. No industrial tribunals. No written warnings. No appeal system. If Sarky sacks you – you remain sacked. Maybe it’s just as well the guillotine has gone although if it was still around, there’s a chance it would be Sarky’s head on it, not some poor government official who has upset the ‘monarch’!

Bottle Bank Blues

I have tried to write this posting several times, featuring of course, the visit by my sons Timothy and Stephen, and my brother Robert but I’ve had to do so many trips to the ‘bottle bank’ (recycling) that I’ve had no time to really think about a suitable subject. Writing about what they did during their 6 days would involve the words – drink, smoke, eat, sleep and that’s not very exciting is it?

But here’s a brief list of the activities I remember during the last 6 days.

Friday – on only his second trip unaccompanied on his scooter, Guy decides that the main road needs to be cleaned of gravel by sweeping it with his bare arms and legs as he comes off on a bend not too far from the house. Unfortunately, as he successfully clears the road of gravel he leaves acres of human skin and quite a bit of blood in its place!

Saturday – Guy and J off to hospital while us boys get ready to drive up into the mountains for lunch. We’ve got 5 serious (motor) bikers with us and when we get there we find another group of Harley bikers entering the restaurant. Despite my best efforts at trying to start a bar-room-brawl between the two groups (and then stand well back and watch) they all get on rather well which was quite disappointing. The consolation was that the food, in particular, the roasted quail, was quite delicious. We gathered back at our place after lunch.

Sunday - after finding Timothy sleeping on the terrace thinking the door to his bedroom was locked (not true) we had a quiet start to the day after a late night and then we remember. J, after repeated goading on my part, decided she’d had enough and threw a glass of wine over me. Unfortunately, it went over the guest sitting next to me – I was completely unscathed – ha ha ! Robert then proceeded to show J how it was done by throwing a glass of iced water over me, I retaliated with Rosé wine and the sophisticated dinner we were having went rapidly downhill.

Monday – went into Nice to try and get parts for Guy’s scooter (unsuccessful) and then had a stroll round the Old Town. There were crowds of people wandering around in the 30 degree heat but we managed to get seats at an outdoor bar where we were completely aghast to pay £25 ($40) for four drinks including two Cokes. We were however delighted to find the Socca restaurant where the four of us had lunch for a total of £9 ($14). What a contrast eh? Monday evening was a catch up, watching old family videos and emptying my drinks cabinet. Beds were reached between the hours of 2am and 5am.

Tuesday – off to the village for lunch and then head for the airport. I wont see Timothy before he goes off to Qatar to help the Americans and Brits fight the Taliban. (Qatar is a staging point for aircraft going into Afghanistan) so we have a big hug and then they disappear into the terminal. Tuesday afternoon and evening are strangely quiet and smoke and alcohol free!