Spring 2015

In the unrelenting gloom of March weather consisting of grey skies and continuous drizzle, it's difficult to find anything interesting to write about in a blog.

The big excitement here has been the departmental elections, where two representatives are elected for each canton, one male and one female. These go to make up the “conseils generales” which run each departement. The big winners were the UMP and their allies, otherwise known as “Sarkozy's party”. They now control 67 departements while the PS (socialists) control only 34. Before the election, the PS had 61! This was slightly surprising, as the UMP was is disarray when Sarkozy took it over a few months ago. It was riven by internal feuds and financial scandals, although this seems normal in French politics. The other big success was the National Front (FN) of Marie Le Pen, who went from 2 representatives to 62, but didn't win control of any departement. So, a big shift to the right has taken place.

The plane crash in the Alps was also a huge story, even though the flight had no French connection other than the flight path. But, because it crashed in France, they had the first shot at determining the cause, including the right to decode the orange coloured “black box” voice recorder. The prosecutor for Marseilles made no bones about the initial findings that the co-pilot deliberately flew the aircraft into the side of a mountain while the captain was in the toilet.

On a more local level, my poor old next-door neighbour has died, or, as the French say, disappeared. She was 89 years old, and had been in and out of hospitals and nursing homes for the last couple of years. The last time she came home, it was somewhat unexpected, as we thought the end had come. But, before her return, two trucks arrived and began to unload hospital-type equipment. The driveway, for a time, looked like a scene from “Emergency Ward 10”, with hydraulic beds and gantries for drips. So, she was installed in a home hospital type of arrangement. At least four people would visit her every day, femmes de menage, hommes de menage, nurses and, sometimes, doctors. As she lived alone, a person was assigned to spend the night with her. I was sometimes blocked from driving out or in by the number of cars parked at her door. But, after several weeks, we saw a blue light flashing early one morning, and an ambulance took her away never to return.

The funeral service was somewhat bizarre. It took place in the big Catholic church, but didn't feature any priests or mass. Two men in plain clothes conducted the ceremony, read prayers, shook holy water and spouted incense. One of them read a short account her life. Only 18 people attended, not counting the four funeral directors. We were all invited to walk round the coffin and splash holy water on it. She had no children, but had a few nieces and nephews. By the time she died, most of these were no longer on speaking terms with her or with one another. One niece and one nephew attended. She was buried in the next departement, about 80km from here, where she had lived at an earlier stage of her life. Until illness and old age wore her down, she was a terrific gardener, who grew everything from lettuce to oranges. Only a couple of years ago she dug a bed for broad beans while a femme de menage tidied the house! The garden will now go to the dogs, and the fate of the house is very uncertain. I suspect that it is in the charge of the nursing home, and they will sell it to recover their fees.

The other big “drame” was the crash of the helicopters in Argentina a couple of weeks ago, killing some top sports stars. The most high-profile was the much-loved Camille Muffat, one of their best ever swimmers, olympic gold medal winner. A bronze medal boxer was also killed, as was one of their greatest sailors, Florence Arthaud, a woman in her fifties who had won the translantic single-handed race (the Route du Rhum) in 1990. She survived a car crash which left her in a coma when she was 17. It happened while filming a reality television programme along the lines of “I'm a celebrity.....”. Two helicopters flew into one another in a bizarre case of pilot error.

The spring weather has been awful, mild but wet and dreary. It's ideal for planting, but also ideal for weed growth, and weeds don't need much encouragement. I've planted quite a few items in an attempt to re-model the garden, and they're doing fine. But, the battle with the weeds is only beginning.

Another downbeat story concerns my French teacher. She's an old lady in her 80s, and had been deteriorating as time passed, getting thinner and thinner. Anyhow, a few weeks ago she was a passenger in the car with her husband, when he had some kind of a “turn' and crashed the car, activating the airbags. She was injured facially (by the airbag), and her husband also had relatively minor injuries, including broken ribs. They spent a few days in hospital, and were then shifted to a retirement home about 50km away. Unfortunately, the husband died suddenly a few days later from an embolism. However, she is recovering, and even managed to send me an email, having never previously used a computer. But, sadly, she won't return as a French teacher.

The French were very pleased that Ireland won the six nations, but were not impressed by their own team, or by the strategy and tactics of their manager Saint Andre. I can't understand how he is still in the job, given the talent at their disposal, and the dismal performances. But, they did enough to stop the English winning, - just about!