Can't think of a funny title, despite stiff peak and macaroon success.

Too tired to write a lot today.  What started off as promising sort of day, with beautiful spring sunshine and a feeling of optimism, ended up with a bit of disappointment, confusion and a few tears on my part.

Today was our appointment with the gentleman at the MSA - Mutualité Sociale Agricole.  Spent the morning trying to come up with a list of questions to ask, in French, about the status of Cotisant Solidaire - the profession we were under the impression would allow us to start the campsite (albeit in a bit of an unconventional way).  I think we both felt as prepared as we were going to, and set off to Meyssac in the sunshine hoping the afternoon would be straightforward and just a bit of a formality.

Our appointment was at 14h00 and we arrived in plenty of time.  The office was nothing like what we expected - infact it resembled nothing more than a square building with not a lot going for it.  Inside was not much more exciting, a very sparse waiting area with a small table and ancient copies of Paris Match magazine.  The meeting started with some very nice pleasantries but then things just went downhill.  First of all I was asked for proof that I did indeed own the land we were speaking about - in the form of the official deeds from the solicitor who put through the sale of the property.  I didn't have them with me.  Then we got on to the subject of 'cotisant solidaire' and it became clear, very quickly, that by registering as this profession I would be entitled to no healthcare cover whatsoever, which is all very well at the moment, but maybe not in future years - none of us, after all, know what awaits us round the corner.  We were already aware that healthcare was going to be a bit of an issue with this profession, but I think at this moment the complexity of the whole French system really started to hit home.  And at that point I just started to feel overwhelmed and my brain frazzled, and once that happens, I knew what would come next - ah yes, the waterworks came on and I made a complete and utter prat of myself.  Poor Monsieur Feix didn't quite know what to do, I don't think, and just kept trying to make light of the situation and tell me there was no need to cry.  At that point, bless his heart, he took the list of questions I had prepared, and went through them one by one and wrote answers to them.  He was very sweet, and I did at least manage to regain some composure. 

We came away not quite sure what had happened, what it all meant, and how we were going to proceed, but needless to say it has left me feeling pretty knackered and deflated.  At times like this I realise just how alone were really are here now, with only each other for support.  I guess that has to be enough for now, at least until we meet some new people, and make new friends.  Its hard though, and while I do not regret coming over here at all, I do find it hard to accept how some things have changed more than I thought they would.  That makes me sad.

But anyway, the day did kind of end up on a positive note.  For despite being defeated by the MSA, I risked putting myself through more distress by attempting Macaroons again - and this time they worked (although I don't have a picture, sorry!).  I didn't follow Lorraine Pascale's recipe this time - but please don't tell her that because she may decided not to be my twitter friend anymore.  And I need all the friend I can get right now!

Anyway, this has been a depressing post, so here are some of the nice things of the day.  Because there are always positives, you just have to look for them. 

I promise to be chirpier next time!

Alison

xx

'Hello' or 'Allo'?

Just a quick post.  I have been getting a lot of 'silent' phone calls as of late, so today I did an experiment as I had a feeling that it was me saying 'hello' rather than 'allo' that was causing the problem, and causing people to hang up on me.  So when the phone rang this morning, I brushed myself off and in my best guttural french accent I bellowed 'ALLO' down the phone.  Bingo, the person at the other end actually spoke to me! 

So there you go, bet you're REALLY glad you read this post today huh?

Alison
x

Stiff peak success, followed by Macaroon failure..... and a morning out in Tulle.

Sigh!

Here I am again, absolutely shattered today to be honest - think my sinuses are playing me up again, either that or someone attached an invisible vice to my head in the night and has been tightening the screws with joy throughout the day. 

Anyway, apparently it is Wednesday today.  The weeks certainly seem to go quick at the moment.  Monday we didn't achieve alot really as weather was shite again.  Mark continued work on the hen house (he really is building one I promise) and I did a bit of painting.  I also plucked up the courage to drop into the local Marie to ask about the bit of land that is for sale, and to try and find out what the position was in terms of building consent.  Anyway, it would appear the land is what they call 'constructible' - in other words you can build on it if you want.  So I then had a little chat with the nice lady (who actually came out from behind the desk with a picture of the bit of land) and discussed our predicament in terms of needing to know whether we would be able to maybe buy just a slice of it, and make a small track to our own land.  She came up with some very good advice, and suggested I contacted the Conseil Général about it - because while building a road/track might not be a problem, the siting of it would (in other words there may be issues in terms of whereabouts it is built because of sharp bends etc).  So I came out with someone else to contact - not ideal, but I felt a little bit more confident in the fact that I had managed to have a reasonably technical conversation in French - not perfect French by any means,  but better than what it has been of late.  Monday evening I emailed the Conseil Général, and surprise surprise I am still waiting for their response.  It is quite frustrating in a way, because there are things we need to get on with, but little things like this just seem to hold everything up........

Tuesday we didn't do a lot at all.  Bobby cat was unwell with diarrohea, so we stayed at home - I am a very protective mother when it comes to my furry children.  So to keep myself busy I painted the downstairs cloakroom - and I am not sure if I like it.  But not much I can do about it, so am trying to think of ways to make it look better.  Please be forthcoming with suggestions - I guess I just didn't want everywhere to look to modern, yet the cloakroom now is.  How can I make it more vintage looking for not much money?  Was thinking of buying a stencilling sponge and doing a paint effect of some kind.  Or some stencilling itself.  Hmmmm, I so wish I had an artistic streak - but it wasn't something I was blessed with unfortunately.  Anyway, the good news is, Bobby is better now - my guess is he had probably been eating something he shouldn't have been eating, like a mouse head, or a bird wing, a squirrel leg.  I shall spare you further details.

Which brings us to today......ah yes, that is Wednesday as I have already confirmed.  Today we decided to get round to declaring ourselves to the French equivalent of the NHS.  As our forms had finally arrived from the DWP, telling us that we could have up to two years healthcare courtesy of Mr Cameron, I had already spent a good hour the previous day getting all our bits and pieces together for the trip to the Caisse Primaire d'Assurance Maladie in Tulle.  I had scanned every personal document I could think of, and even made copies.  I had folded everything nicely and done separate piles for Mark and I.  I felt quite smug at my organisational skills and confident that the trip to Tulle would be a piece of piss.  So at 10.15am we left sunny La Chabanaise, documents all folded, ironed and enveloped, the kitchen sink strapped firmly to the roof bars of the car and drove the 35km to Tulle.  Its a nice little town - not as big as Brive, despite being the Departmental capital of the Corrèze.

However, finding the office was difficult - we intially tried to park the car and find it on foot, but one steep hill later, and after Jane (the satnav lady) got well and truly confused and kept repeating herself to the point where she sounded like a broken record (turn left, then turn left, turn left, then turn left, turn left, then turn left), we reverted to plan A and got back in the car.  Eventually we found it, and Jane forgave us - it would appear she doesn't like steep hills either.  Anyway, the visit to CPAM was brief.....and not entirely successful.  The lady we saw was very nice.  I thought she was going to insist on translations of our birth certificates, but after I made an extremely funny joke about Mark's age (in French) she said they would do as they were.  She even refused the copies I had made of them, and did them herself!  But then came the bombshell - it would appear there was one important piece of information that I had forgotten (yes I know, I'm bloody perfect, how could I forget something!).  I had failed to produce our 'Relevé d'identité bancaire'.  *Cue Eastenders drum*.  A 'Relevé d'identité bancaire', in my humble opinion, is a rather useless document.  It is basically just a piece of paper with your bank details on - you can't just write your details down, oh no, you have to have the 'official' piece of paper from the bank.  This is what one looks like:

I should have known better, there's no two ways about it.  I failed.  I should know by now that the French love their bits of paper.  So we left the CPAM, no better off - just with the photocopies which the nice lady did. So we have to go back again..... (&(*^&^)*&(*^&()^*

To console ourselves we went and got some lunch - just a sandwich, a drink and a cookie.  Try saying 'cookie' with a French accent.  Sounds stupid doesn't it?  But I did it anyway.  I dread the day I have to go to Macdonalds and ask for a Double Cheeseburger.

This afternoon I had bitter sweet time in the kitchen.  You'd think I would have learnt my lesson from the Lemon Meringue experience, bit no, I'm a glutton for punishment, and decided to attempt macaroons.  Which meant more stiff peak experiments!  But this time people, I was successful and this picture is the proof!

 

However things then went downhill and my macaroons just didn't get the right consistency, and as a result there is now a yellow sticky mess in the kitchen bin.  It was a recipe by Lorraine Pascale that I followed, so I decided to send her a cheeky little tweet.  And she replied!  So I have no excuse to fail next time.

The cooking extravaganza did not stop there.  I decided to make mango chutney and I now have four jars of the stuff - am hoping it will be a bit cheaper than buying the stuff.  I then baked a Bakewell Tart, and it worked out.  So despite the disastrous start to the day, things ended well.  And tomorrow, things can only get better.

A la prochaine fois!

Alison
xx

The day my French life changed forever and stiff peak stories.

What day is it? I have lost track.  People told me this would happen once I retired (ahem!).  Seriously, I very often don't know unless I switch my laptop on and look in the bottom right hand corner.  This is what it says, so I shall take it as truth that it is indeed Saturday 16th March 2013.  How did that happen?  And don't ask me why I am looking at a website entitled 'Roger's headlights'.  It really isn't as rude as it sounds, or is that just me?

Anyway, it would appear I have been absent for a while.  Since last Wednesday in fact, so here is a quick run down on what we have been up to.

Thursday we had a lovely day out to the Dordogne where we visited an English couple called Alex & Clare, who moved to France some 5 years ago and set up a yurt campsite.  I think I did mention it in a previous post, but just incase here is their website (Ecovallée).  It's all up and running if anyone fancies a summer holiday with a difference this year.  Anyway, it was a lovely day - interesting, exciting, scary, humbling, inspiring - all in one.  They have done some great things, against all the odds (mainly french bureacracy), and with two children in tow as well.  They live in two adjoined yurts all year round, together with four cats and two dogs.  It is a very homely place indeed, and the whole 'less is more' thing really comes alive here - and makes you realise what is really important in life.  And also makes me think to this lovely saying I found on the internet the other day.

Anyway, the few hours we were there were spent chatting about their experiences and looking at how they do things (particularly things such as dealing with grey water, heating showers, toileting - yes, we looked at poo!).  Came away with a lot to think about and lots of research to do.  Things are really going to have to start moving pretty soon if we want to be up and running next year, that's for sure.

Friday - work continued on the super duper chicken house and I spent the afternoon trying to level a bit of ground for it to go on, as it is going to have to be moved into place pretty soon, not least because we won't be able to carry it.  Anyway, you'd think it would be easy levelling a bit of ground, but when your name is Alison Wedley, it isn't that straightforward (lol - get it??).  Anyway, it is done - the spirit level said 'yes', and the ground is now ready. :o)

I have also been trying to sort out car insurance, which isn't turning out to be that easy.  In fact it is a bloody pain in the arse.  I accept that things are different here, but if I had gone for the first quote given to me (which incidentally I waited three weeks for!) I would have been paying nearly £600 a year.....in England I was paying slightly less than £300 I think).  I therefore decided to ask the lovely lady at the bank for a quote - I have been waiting for nearly 2 weeks now (and for the past 4 evenings she has sent me an email promising it 'tomorrow'.)  So I ended up on an ex-pat website and was given details of a company in Brittany, which are affiliated to AXA, yet are English-speaking.  I really didn't want to go down the English-speaking route, as I was quite happy to throw myself in at the deep end and immerse myself in the French way of doing things, even if it meant making an idiot of myself.  I so didn't want to become one of those 'ex-pats' that only spoke to English people, or English-speaking people, and only bought products from English-speaking companies.  But I guess where money is concerned, you just have to go for the best deal......especially when it is going to save you nearly £300.  Sigh......well you can't say I didn't at least try.

Today we went to Brive to do some food shopping - and after a recommendation from the lovely Maria, we discovered Grand Frais supermarket.  *bigcheesygrin*  Wow!  What can I say, I never thought I could get excited over a supermarket, but I can, and I did!  The place was full of fruit and veg from around the world, stuff which I never thought I would be able to find again, well at least not on a regular basis.  I love cooking dishes from all around the world, but the French aren't quite so big on it like the British are.  Finding ingredients to cook a nice authentic curry isn't always possible - there will nearly always be a couple of ingredients you just can't find for the life of you.  But here they had more or less everything you could ever want - huge bunches of fresh herbs, big bunches of fresh lemongrass, proper ginger (not the dry wrinkly stuff you get in supermarkets), fresh tamarind, sugar canes, kumquats.  Wow, I could have spent all day in there.  And it was very reasonably priced - have just been looking at my receipt and a bunch of 10 lemongrass sticks cost me €0.97, a bag of around 10 scotch bonnet chillies €1.25, fresh tamarind €0.22.  Pretty good compared to the prices in England.  And the chillies and lemongrass I plan to freeze so I will have them at hand for the next couple of months.  To celebrate we had thai curry for tea.  *evenbiggercheesygrin*

This afternoon I decided to make individual lemon meringue pies, and now the second part of the blog post title will start to make sense.  All was going swimmingly until it came to making the meringues.  Could I get to stiff peak stage???  Could I f**k!  The electric hand whisk came out, and, I am not joking, I was whisking for 25 minutes - with a toilet break, a tea break, and a lie down on top of that.  All I got was a slippery, gooey and soggy mess - it was very glossy, but that was the only plus side.  Needless to say, I gave up after those 25 minutes, and just slopped it on top of the tarts.  What came out the oven resembled iced jam tarts - I guess my future is not in baking after all so Lorraine Pascale is safe (well in the baking world maybe, but not in the modelling world yet, obviously).

Anyway, may your dreams be full of stiff peaks.

Alison
xx