Laugh Your Way Into 2011

Well, J and I are cleaning and readying Le Brin for another invasion tonight when we host a New Year's Eve party. We've even more people arriving tonight than we had for Xmas and so the bar is being prepared for the overspill, i.e. the guys. I'm sure it will be well used!

Thanks to all of you who read my blog. Without you , blah, blah blah. And with that, all that remains is for me to wish you, your families and friends a very happy New Year and a healthy and prosperous 2011.

And now - have a laugh. Read this at midnight and laugh from one year to the next.

What sort of woman can wash the dishes with her right hand, cook dinner with her left hand, sweep the floor with her left leg, dust the furniture with her right leg and open a beer bottle using her bum? A Swiss Army wife.

Internet virus warning. If you get an email titled "nude photo of Ann Widdecombe" DO NOT open it. It contains a nude photo of Ann Widdecombe.

Susan Boyle has taken steps to prevent any more prowlers coming into her home. She's bought herself a see-through nightie.

A used cigar that belonged to Sir Winston Churchill has sold at auction for £4500. Can you imagine what one of Bill Clinton's must be worth?

My mate got a slap from his missus when they were getting ready to go out on Saturday night. Emerging from the bedroom, she said: "Does my bum look big in this?" "I'm not sure," he replied. "Move your other bum out the way and I'll have a look..."

Two Irish blokes stagger out of the zoo covered in blood. one turns to the other and says: "That's the last time I go liondancing..."

The world-famous five-star Gleneagles Hotel recorded a loss of £554,000 last year. An overnight guest apparently sneaked out without paying his mini-bar bill.

If a single bed is 3ft wide, how come a double is 4ft 6in?

Proceedings at the Chelsea Flower Show were disrupted yesterday when an 85-year-old streaker ran amok at the event. She later won first prize for Best Dried arrangement.

The three dolls in a man's life. 1) His daughter - Baby doll. 2) His mistress - Barbie doll. 3) His wife - Panadol.

J walked out on me after I blew our life savings on a penis extension operation. She just couldn't take it any longer.

Our local bar in Tourrettes is being turned into a funeral parlour. I might pop down for a couple of stiff ones.

Ostrich, camel and kangaroo will be served up at this week's World Testicle Cooking Championships in Serbia. If Mrs Woods, aka, Elin Nordegren had her way, they’d have Tiger on the menu as well...

Are orphans allowed to watch PG-rated movies?

Someone stole J's knickers from the washing line. She's not bothered about the knickers, but she would like the 22 pegs back.

What about the drug dealer selling Viagra for just £2 a tablet who claims it's "the only way you can buy sex for two quid"? He's obviously never visited Glasgow's red light district.

At the mother-in-law's funeral yesterday, J accused me of being insensitive. At least I think that's what she said - I couldn't really hear her over my iPod.

An Irish guy put an advert in his local paper saying he’d take a driver’s job and he says - wait for it - that he's willing to travel...!!!

I went to the doctors the other day and he told me I've only got two weeks to live. When J heard she booked a holiday for three weeks!

'I'm a Celebrity' drama queen Gillian McKeith had food stashed in her knickers when she went into the jungle. Gives a whole new meaning to bushtucker, I suppose.

Susan Boyle is now worth £11million - and she still hasn't been kissed. I now predict a sex-change operation for Heather Mills.

I saw Kitty writing her Xmas wish list – it said, "Dear Santa, please bring me lots of clothes to give to the poor women on Thomas' computer..."

In Tourrettes the other day, I saw a poor old lady falling over in the snow and ice. I'm guessing she was poor as she only had 83 cents in her purse.

When the Road is Blocked - It's Blocked!

People generally remark when they’re driving down here about the lack of cones or road works on the motorways and generally it’s true, certainly compared to the UK.

Whether it’s because France builds the roads better in the first place, I don’t know but there’s no shortage of heavy trucks thundering along the autoroute which runs along the Med from Spain all the way to Italy and as we all know, it’s the trucks which cause the damage. If you’ve ever driven up the M1 from London, you can’t fail to see the grooves which have been worn into the inside lane as truck after truck takes the road north.

But whilst France seemingly has the quality, it also has the quantity, with nearly three times the motorway miles of the UK (10,843km vs 3,555km). OK, it’s a bigger country but even allowing for it’s much greater size than the UK, it still has 25% more motorway kilometers when the area is taken into consideration.

Where is this post going?

Well, a couple of weeks ago, the A8 autoroute was blocked from midnight right through to the afternoon rush hour the following day because of an accident just outside Nice. Unfortunately, one of the drivers was killed but it was his load which caused the problems. It was a propane tanker which caught fire and melted the road.

Under normal circumstances, the road would have been cleared, the tarmac repair gangs would have been out and in most cases, the road would have been open again for the morning rush hour. But not that morning – the damage caused was considerable and by the following morning’s rush hour, the authorities started closing the road to motorists and trucks – all the way from St Tropez to Menton – a total of 54 miles or 88 kilometres!

And this is the problem. Driving north from London, you can take the M1, M40 or A1. Manchester is surrounded by motorways and even Glasgow has an excellent road network with alternative routes should one be blocked. Not down here.

Section of the A8 Motorway

The closeness of the Alps to the coast is cited by many as the problem of having more than just a single trunk road running along the coast but there have been rumours of a new motorway being built inland which would help, but of course with the massive economic restrictions at the moment and the disruption to huge tracts of beautiful land (not to mention the NIMBY’s), there is little likelihood of it being constructed in the near future.

Until then, we will continue to use the one road linking the French and Italian Rivieras and hope that we don't get caught up in the huge jams we witnessed two weeks ago.

   

J's Trip to Kenya - Part V

Tuesday 7th December

Heading for the Pot !

I missed my normal wake up call and as I came to, I giggled to myself recalling the morning two days previously when Moses appeared at my bedroom door with a live turkey – you’ve guessed -  it was the plat du jour that evening!

Today I was meeting up with Ruth and her sisters, for a girly lunch and then a bit of shopping. I met Ruth on my last trip – she is 14 years old and whilst still in full time education she continues to take care of her younger siblings - all 5 of them!  I wanted to catch up with the girls, take them out for chicken and ugali, followed by a bit of shopping.  We started off in the hairdressers buying chemicals for their hair.  The market trip was not very successful as the prices leapt by at least 200% due to my presence.  In the end, it was decided that John would accompany them to the market later in the week.  

The Thrill of a Supermarket

Instead, we went into the supermarket to buy essentials like shampoo and soap and toothpaste.  The younger girls became increasingly more animated and Ruth struggled to retain a semblance of control with them.  John informed me that they had never actually set foot in a supermarket before – ‘Supermarket’s are for rich people’.  With that statement, we really started to enjoy ourselves.  The trolley was soon loaded with jelly crystals, popcorn, biscuits, juice and sweeties (as well as the basics that would see them through until the New Year).  As we loaded the happy girls and their shopping into a Tuk Tuk and took photographs, it became clear, that my friends, John and Sandie back home in France, would be thrilled with the outcome of their donation!

Wednesday 8th December

I had missed John Felix yesterday and  I felt sad when I thought about having to leave him to return to France next week.  I knew Moses was happy for me to spend more time with him but it was a delicate balance. I didn’t want to overwhelm John Felix with affection only to disappear back to my ‘other’ family - he’d faced so much rejection in his short life that I did not want to get anything skewed in our relationship. I felt so blessed and surprised that our relationship had developed into such closeness.

John Felix had moved in with the other boys in the previous April.  Prior to that, he had been living with his grandmother in the slums. I talked about his sad story in the previous blog listings.  He became my ‘second born’ boy after Guy. Since returning to France in April, I hadn’t had much contact with John Felix.  It was important that he settled into the family home and learnt how to live with and relate to the other boys.  Moses told me that there were a few ‘run ins’ when he had threatened to leave initially but overall he had settled and was starting to do well at school.

During the Christmas holidays the boys are given the chance to visit relatives, however it was thought that for John Felix, this trip back to see his grandmother on his own would be too early, and so it was decided that we would accompany him and take gifts.  

As is usual, we ‘hit’ the supermarket for the basic provisions and John Felix chose a packet of biscuits to take for her which I wrapped. We climbed into the car and as we got nearer to her home, this affectionate, easy child, became uncommunicative and sullen.  In silence, we walked across the flat land to her home.  I held back as I did not want to intrude.  Once there, she invited us in but it was obvious that this little boy was not very happy to be there.  We tried to understand the background to his situation and some of it she shared with us.

John Felix’s mother was buried in the garden at his grandmother’s house – where we were now.  She had run away from her husband when John F was about 3 years old, taking him and his younger brother with her.  Her husband had found her and had inflicted terrible beatings on her. Years later she must have had some kind of brain haemorrhage, possibly as a result of the beatings and she had died when John F was 8. He doesn’t remember what happened to his younger brother.

Throughout, John Felix remained silent – his grandmother gave him neither welcome, acknowledgement nor any affection during the time we were there. The only communication she had with him was to dispatch him to find an extra chair from the house next door.  I was relieved when we could depart.  Once again, I hung back with John Felix.  ‘You didn’t think we were going to leave you there, did you?’ I asked.  John Felix didn’t respond.  Out of sight of Moses, walking ahead of us with Paul James, I pulled John Felix into my arms and we both choked back tears.

John Felix and his Grandmother

When we broke away from each other, I held his little face between my hands and told him Nakupenda (I love you).  I reassured him that he was my son now and would remain so for as long as it pleased him.  His shoulder seemed to relax as if the weight of the world had suddenly left him.  We linked hands and started to walk towards the others.  Like our own families, some Africans typically do not show any outward affection but I knew there was absolutely no connection between the grandmother and John Felix. Perhaps I will never know what really went on in their family. At the door as we got ready to leave, I took a photo of both of them – their body language says it all.

That evening, I hosted a party at Covenant to which Moses and Tatu, John and Pheobe, Paul James, John Odiambo and Anton were all invited.  I wanted to say thank you to everyone, including Mama Pat’s boys for looking after me so well. Eric and Motech were the stars helping me so much with preparation. There were 18 of us in total. We ate pasta and a pretty good salad followed by fruit.  Tatu was really relaxed and thanked me profusely.  I was so happy to repay the compliment of cooking for them.

After introducing the Africans to Pass the Parcel and musical chairs (what a cheat Moses is!), we rushed upstairs to the roof where we lit some fireworks.  As the evening was drawing to a close, I sat down with John Odiamo who had requested that I allowed him to share his story with me which I will share with you in the next posting. 

Christmas at Le Brin

Last year it was a quiet Xmas at home as Guy was in Ireland and we had no planned lunches, dinners or parties. This year was quite, quite different but onto the festivities later, first the weather over the festive season.

I know the UK has been suffering with Arctic conditions and just to keep in touch with what’s happening at ‘home’, I have the weather for Glasgow (my brother and sons), Margate (my aunt) and Oldham (my mate Steve) programmed into my iPhone, so I know it’s been pretty cold, indeed, my brother told me on Xmas eve that the temperature in Glasgow had not risen above zero degrees for six weeks!

Over here in ‘sunny’ France, it has been raining non-stop for days on end – two inches a day! It’s impossible to do anything; the wood for the fire gets wet no matter how well it’s covered, the fallen oak leaves get soggy and block everything up, and poor Shadow comes in looking like a drowned rat, a pretty big drowned rat it has to be said.

And then the cold came. For the last few mornings Tan and I have had skating rinks instead of swimming pools and I see the cats wondering what on earth is happening. They can’t quite work out how they cannot put their paws into the fish pond and hook out a juicy bit of fish. I’m just waiting for them to spot a bird on the other side of the pool and go for it only to find a watery grave instead!

But back to Xmas. Quite a few weeks ago, four couples got together and suggested we do a combined Xmas with all the food costs and the cooking shared. And, despite finding our previously ordered turkey had been sold to someone else (probably to a French family - they don’t seem to be worried about totally unscrupulous actions like this), we managed to feed the fourteen people who shared our table quite easily.

The ladies all did marvelously well getting food for fourteen people cooked and served on time with a special mention going to Linda who came over on Xmas Eve and helped J turn a nondescript piece of patio furniture into a beautifully, festive dinner table.

Starting at about 2pm, eating at about 4pm and beginning the games about 9pm, it was a great day. As usual, I ended up at 2am snoring away, lying fully clothed on the carpet in the hall covered in Shadow’s towel. At least this time, my so called ‘friends’ covered me up!

Secret Santa was a success despite most people guessing who had given what to whom, but I reckon I got away with my edible g-string and can of squirty cream! My present was a ‘Demotivational’ calendar with the naughtiest wrapping paper I’ve ever seen. I’m still trying to work out what to do with the calendar but the paper is on my office wall already! Thanks Angie!

And then, as usual, just as the party was abating, we all headed over to Tan and Angie’s where it continued well into the night on their terrace, despite the freezing conditions. Apparently, I did participate in the heated debates about one thing or another and did dance a few steps before my lack of sleep, due to watching the cricket through the night, caught up with me.

And so it’s on to New Year. I’ve had people I don’t know stopping me in the village to say how much they are looking forward to spending New Year at our place! Methinks I need to make another visit to the wine store, oh and maybe wash Shadow's towel - just in case!  

J's Trip to Kenya - Part IV

Saturday 4th December

I can’t believe there is only one more day left on our rural retreat! I am managing to eat most of what is put in front of me (apart from the tripe and the intestines) and my embarrassment about using the outside loo is abating.  However, I do need to find another place to empty my overnight ‘water’ bottle as the calf outside my bedroom window retaliates by pooing directly underneath the window! Tonight the visiting Pastors are going to finish their programme by anointing the local villagers in advance of the Baptisms taking place tomorrow and there is to be a Revival Rock Concert tonight which may actually rival X Factor.

Sunday 5th December

The church service ‘rocked’ last night until 1:00 in the morning, Our local kids from Kisumu tried desperately to out-sing and out-dance the kids from the local village. It was an amazing atmosphere, the praise and worship was unlike anything I had ever been involved in before.  My British reserve diminished as the night wore on and (unfortunately) I have the video to prove it though if my daughter were to see me dancing and singing Gospel, I know that she would disown me. Roll on their trip next Easter!! 

Monday 6th December

Moses' Wife Tatu and Vashi

By day 5 of my rural retreat, I was feeling relaxed and pampered.  I would wake to hear Florence singing in the kitchen as she sparked the gas burner ready to prepare the breakfast tea. We would practice alternately, Swahili, French and pronunciation of certain English words, shouting them backwards and forth between the open rafters. I could earwig to ‘family’ conversations and though largely spoken in Swahili, I would intuitively understand Moses crooning to 18 month old Vashi when she woke in the middle of the night or hear his wife, Tatu, saying her prayers before falling asleep.  The lack of privacy fosters a sharing, a closeness and a humour that I have rarely experienced before – and despite the space we have available to us as a family in France, I would return to these cramped conditions in a heartbeat!

Travel in Kenya

Before we knew it, it was time to pack to go back to the city. Magdalena and the girls were driven home, goodbyes were said, many photographs taken, rooms swept, remaining cabbages put in the boot and promises made to return. As the boys from Kibos drove the jeep home the previous night, piled high with mattresses, I began to wonder how we would all fit in the car.

Our drive home took two and half hours and comprised 5 adults, 2 ten year olds, 1 toddler and a live chicken with a plastic bag wrapped around its bottom....a happy moment as John Felix cuddled into me and slept on my knee for the whole of the journey.

Magdalena’s Story

Moses with his sister Magdalena

As I sat on the grass with the tiny ones who had joined us, Moses sister and Anton’s mum, Magdalena, arrived. Moses had driven me over to meet his sister on the Wednesday evening.  Her story is a particularly sad one.  As a young girl, Magdalena had met and married her husband.  For many years they had enjoyed a reasonably happy life, building up his business.  Her husband was a vet so they were able to lead a fairly affluent lifestyle, certainly by African standards. Magdalena ran the office and gave him all the support a good wife can, in between giving birth to six children.  They each had a car and during the good times built a large and comfortable house in their rural home community.  But as the years passed, her husband took a second and then a third wife as they can do in Kenyan society.  He continued to support the 6 children along with numerous others now from his polygamous lifestyle.

As Magdalena talked to me, I could see the hurt and embarrassment that she still felt in retelling this story.  Not only having to live on a daily basis with his unfaithfulness, disaster stuck one day when he came home to say that he had been  diagnosed with HIV. Mercifully she and her children had been unaffected.  However, as he became ill and eventually hospitalised, every single thing that they had built up during their life together had to be sold to pay for his treatment.  The other two ‘wives’ were uninterested and it was Magdalena who nursed him on a daily basis at the same time as selling up everything they owned in order to pay the bills. The cars, the lab equipment, the house in Kisumu – everything had to be sold.  

When he eventually died, with nothing left and no job, Magdalena had no other course of action than to return to her rural community and to the house they had built during the ‘good’ times. Now many years on, this house stood vandalised, inhabited by bees and damaged by bats. The large, (but now rusted) iron gate at the entrance to the estate, told of the grandeur of the house. This once elegant building stood forlorn, no water, no electricity, hardly a pane of glass remaining - the master bedroom and bathroom overrun with rats bigger than the stray cat that occupied the porch.

I was shocked to see Magdalena existing in such a poverty stricken environment.  Her photographs show her as an elegant and beautiful woman. She is easy to be around, has a quick intelligence and a gentle sense of humour. She welcomed me into her house and served tea in a china cup as well as ground nuts (collected in the garden) which she had roasted and salted.

Virginie

Once again, I lost sleep thinking about Magdalena and her situation. When a distant relative and his young wife succumbed to Aids last year, leaving their 2 year old child orphaned, because the child tested positive with HIV, none of their closest relative would take her in. Despite her hardship and desperately trying to eke out an existence for herself and two youngest daughters, Magdalena took the child in and now regards Virginie as one of her own. For me it was incredibly poingnant seeing this elderly grandmother measure out the antiviral dosages each morning. 

Virginie is just like every other 3 year old - shy, giggly, loves cuddles and being read to. The only difference is that she carries her own metal cup to drink out of, a reminder of the terrible, infectious nature of the illness she carries.