Berry Deep France

Summer’s here, and the time is right for . . . sitting back in the old deckchair and sipping on a glass of well chilled Rosé wine. It’s certainly less effort than dancing in the streets.

So begins my seasonal quest for a decent Rosé wine.

There are wine snobs who wopuld argue that Rosé is not a wine, at least it is not a noble wine, the kind you serve in unfeasibly enormous glasses, sniff and sip in small quantities, before sitting round for hours waxing lyrical about it. Rosé is a wine you drink and enjoy. It’s a wine to get sloshed on. Wine snobs never get sloshed. Makes you wonder why they botheer drinking the stuff.

Recently, the EU got to grips with the Rosé question. In Brussels it was decided that wine producers with a surfeit of the red and white stuff, could mix both and call it « Rosé ». Producers of the real Rosé were up in arms, so the Brussels bureaucrats decided that real Rosé would henceforth be called « Tradition Rosé ». Look out for this when buying Rosé this summer. I am not a wine snob, but if I am going to get sloshed, let it be on something half decent. I think that the new mixed Rosé is going to be pretty awful, perhaps better for unblocking the sink that unblocking you.

So, my favourite Rosés

Sancerre, Tavel, Corsica and a St Chinian. Notice I don’t include a Rosé from Provence, it’s far too sweet and very over rated.(Mind you, as part of the marketing, Rosé from Provence always comes in a very interesting shaped bottle. It's worth buying just for that. At least when you have finished, you can stick a candle in the top and use it to illuminate your summer BBQ's). Best advice for Rosé, go for anything with a pinot noir or Syrah grape variety - a rosé with bite and attitude)

The subject of Rosé, brings me to dwell more generally on matters concerning the noble grape. French wine exporters are having a thin time of it. Not only are the French not drinking nearly enough, but international sales are down too. At the recent Vinexpo international wine fair in Bordeaux, foreign wine importers stayed away in droves. The result, French wine exports are down by an average of 20%. Exports of famous wines such as Chablis are down by 35%, whilst champagne exports are down by as much as 50%

Out here in my corner of deepest France, we produce plenty of wines – Quincy, Menetou, Reuilly. The two most notable are Sancerre and Pouilly Fumé (white wine with a slighlty smoky after taste). We are doing not too bady, wine exports are down by 14% on 2007-2008. Wines like Sancerre and Reuilly export roughly 60% to70% of their production. Last year, wine exports round here were worth 70 million Euros. Most of our local brew goes to Britain. Here is the export breakdown.

So, reasons why French wines are selling less.

New world wines are frankly very good

The French are wine snobs and won't sell their national brew by grape variety. Your bog standard world comsumer likes to buy wine by grape variety. Pinot, syrah, grenache, merlot, you know what you are drinking. When the wine has "Chateau" written on the bottle, the average consumer steers clear. Too intellectual.

The French never put decent labels on their wine. When you read the label, you want to know what you are drinking and exactly what to drink it with. Some French wines do have such labels, but they are the ones that the French steer clear of. In the mind of the French consumer, If the label is too simple, or too snazzy, then the wine must be bad.

Wine has to be complex and complicated. You don't drink wine for pleasure. Wine is a science. you must never drink lots of wine, but just small quantities of quality wine. I guess wine is a moment of communion, and you'll probably drink as much wine at a French dinner table as you will during communion. At one recent dinner I went to, we sank one bottle between nine people, and there was still enough left for a glass at the end of the evening. Mind you, you don't always have to get three sheets to when you go out

The French drink white wine at communion, and even then, it is only the priest that drinks the wine. French worshippers get a sip of communion wine at Easter and that's it.

And how to identify a good bottle of wine?

Anything over about 7 Euros with "AOC" and "Chateau" on the front and no label on the back.

Finally, dinner etiquette

Invited to a french family for the first time, never ever take a bottle of wine as an offering.

Firstly, you don't know if everyone drinks wine (many French people never touch the stuff).

Secondly, you don't know if your hosts are wine snobs or not. So, rather than take a bad bottle, take nothing.

Thirdly, if you taake wine for a first invite, your host (if he is a wine snob) may feel that you have brought your own wine because you think that the contents of his cellar is lousy.

Finally, on a first dinner, you never know what you are going to eat. It is the first time, so it is very impolite to ask what you are goling to eat, and if you don't know what is on the menu, you don't know what wine to buy.

If you do insist on taking wine for a first time out, take a good Côtes du Rhone (at least two years old, preferrably a St Joseph or a Rasteau)) or take a good Beaujolais (Moulin à Vent; Morgon or Juliennnas)

It’s not often that prices come down, today though the impossible has happened as VAT in the nation’s restaurants, bars and cafés has been reduced from 19.6% to 5.5%, a 14.1% decrease in the VAT rate. This of course does not mean that the price of your lunch or dinner will automaticaly fall by 14%. Christine Lagarde, minisrter of tthe economy and consumer affairs and things of tthhat ilk has said that she expects the nation’s « restaurateurs » and « cafetiers » to reduce their prices by roughly 12%. In real terms this means that come lunchtime today, the punters will be saving a couple of Euros on their « Menu du Jour » and perhaps 10 Euro centimes on their mid afternoon coffee.

Er, what is a « menu du jour » ?

Most bars, cafés and bistrots will have a « menu du jour », which is the dish of the day, with either a starter, or a desert. Standard price for this in the Provinces is 12 Euros, whilst in Paris you mayt pay 15 Euros for the same thing. If you are lucky, the « patron » may chuck in a glass of wine or maybe a cup of coffee. If the menu says that bread and water are included, do not think that you are getting a « plus » - in French restaurants it is illegal to charge for water (tap water) and bread. So, at midday, you average French office worker will probably be tucking into a steak and chips, (steak frites) followed by a Créme caramel, washed down with a glass of red wine, all for between 10 and 13 Euros, as opposed to 12 to 15 Euros previously.

Why bother reducing VAT ?

The reduction comes after pleas from the nation’s restaurant and café owners. Just over five years ago, they went cap in hand to Jacques Chirac, begging for government action to save their industry. Overheads, charges, taxes etc . . . were all too high, and wages in the sector were too low to attract young people. The message to President Chirac was clear – do something now to prevent the slow death of the industry. The solution was the reduction of VAT. Mr Chirac charged his government with drawing up the appropriate measures, however the EU got wind of the proposition and blocked it, something to do with « unfair competition »

After over 5 years of wrangling, the drop in the VAT rate is now a reality. With the cut in VAT, the nation’s « restaurateurs » reckon that they can increase wages for their staff as well as creating 40,000 new full and part time jobs in the industry. All well and good except that working in kitchens or waiting on tables is still hard work with very unsocial hours. It is doubtful whether thousands of young people will be clammering to join the industry. As for the punters, prices may be lower, but in the current economic climate trip to the restaurant is stilll a luxury for many families.

Traditionally July 1st is a day of « ups and downs » - it is the half yearly « readjuustment » of many welfare payments such as family allowance or housing benefit or unemployment benefit (up by 1% today) This is also the day, when the minimum wage is « readjusted » . As of today, the nationnal minimum wage has been increased by 1.3%, making the hourly net rate 6.93 Euros and the monthly net minimum wage 1051 Euros (still not enough to live off). As for those who live off the minimum wage – 14% of the total French work force (3.4 million workers) earn the minimum wage.

Today will also mark wage increases for the nation’s 5.2 million civil servants and public sector workers. Their montly gross salary increases by half of one percent today.

It is not all good news though. This is the day that train and metro fares go up. This measure concerns mainly those living in the Paris region – an across the board 2% increase in all bus, train and metro fares.

Those public sector workers living in and around Paris may have had a 1.8%pay increase (1.3% on the minimum wage and 0.5% on their public sector pay). This however has just been wiped out by the increase in public transport fares.

This is a serious question posed in this morning's French press. It seems that the French postal service is strapped for cash and wants to economise 200 million Euros by cutting back on postmen. Postal deliveries represent 55% of French postal business.

In our fully networked world, people are sending less letters by good old snail mail. The French Post Office (La Poste) reckon that by 2015 the volume of mail will have dropped by 30% compared to current levels. Less letters means less postmen, but also less counter staff and even the closure of post offices. In 2008, the post office lost 15000 personnel, 9860 of those through retirement. Only 4000 people were recruited to replace them. This year the post office is scheduled to lose just as many of it personnel, and only 2000 people will be recruited to replace those leaving. So, less postmen in the long run.

There is also bad news for seaonal contractual staff. For the first time ever, the post office are not taking on any seasonal workers to replace delivery staff who go on holiday, instead post office counter staff or administrative staff will leave their offices and get on their bikes to deilver the morning mail, which in my neck of the woods, now actually arrives at lunchtime. Since the construction of 180 new houses at the end of my garden, the poor old postman’s round has got bigger. In the current climate though, there is no question of taking on an extra postman to help him.

And for all those of you who fancy a career as a postman in la belle France, here is how you go about it. Postmen and women are classed as civil servants, therefore to become a postman (or woman) you must sit the post office version of the civil service entrance exams. All candidates, must have full French nationality. During the exam, there are papers in maths, use of French, an essay paper and a general knowledge test.

The humble postman is a grade C civil servant, and as such he or she will have a starting salary of 1200 Euros.

Getting up early, delivering the mail come rain wind or heatwave (like today) humping heavy mail bags around, cycling up hills, getting attacked by dogs, all for a pittance. Who would want a job like that ?

Well, thousands of people sit the post office entrance exam every year., from school leavers to university graduates. It ain’t uncommon to find post office staff with doctorates. All are attracted to the post office because, like other sectors of the civil service, it still offers lifetime job security, and of course, French postmen wear berets.

Here's another of those interviews I do with the locals. This one concerns my butcher - Monsiuer Le Boeuf (Mr Beef - his real name). A truncated version of this interview appeared in this month's edition of The Connexion - the link is somewhere on the blog.

Meet Mr Beef the butcher. Eric Leboeuf runs a traditional family butcher’s in Bourges in the Cher. The Leboeufs have been butchers de père en fils for generations. In 2007, Eric was awarded the prestigeous title of Meilleur Ouvrier de France, having years previously won the title of Meilleur Apprenti de France. Day to day, Eric strives to give his customers the highest quality product, however times are hard, quality doesn’t come cheap and competition from the large surpermarket chains is fierce. Is there still a future for the small family butcher ? The fabfrog went along to meet Eric and find out and ask the all important question, « Eric, are you the best butcher in France ? »

First of all, how did you become a butcher ? Is there a destiny in your name ?

Undoubtedly. I was born into a family of butchers and I decided to follow the family tradition. I was fully aware of the drawbacks of the profession, early morning starts, long hours and hard manual work. I did consider other professions, but this seemed to be the natural choice.

Ever since mad cow disease errupted on the world, there has been a lot of talk about traceability. People are more concerned than ever about what they eat and where it ,comes from. How has this affected you ?

In our shop, and probably in all small family butchers, the customer has always known exactly where the meat came from. I think the good old family butcher invented traceability before the word even existed. Let’s face it, traceability is just good common sense, it helps forge a bond of trust between the butcher and his client. Years ago, we used to raise and slaughter our own animals, the local abaottoir was only a few hundred metres away. Nowadays though that is no longer possible. All the abattoirs in Bourges closed years ago. There is only one abatoir left in the Cher, and very soon that too will close. Now we buy our meat from local breeders and local wholesalers who only deal in local meat. Everything we sell comes from the Berry or the Limousin.

Obviously this makes you a bit more expensive than the local supermarket. How are things with the competition?

Indirectly we suffer from competition from the large retail chains, and sure, over the years a certain number of butchers have closed. Those butchers who have survived though have done so by offering a top quality product. Certainly a supermarket is cheaper, but does the clieent know where the meat comes from ? Your local family butcher will sell a local product. Supermarkets buy their meat from wholesalers, who in turn are probably not too bothered about where the meat comes from – beef from Ireland, lamb from New Zealand. I think for this reason many large supermarket chains had enormouss problems setting up traceability procedures. Quality will see small butchers through, besides we address a totally different clientelle to those who buy their meat from the supermarket.

Let’s talk about clientelle. Have you noticed a change in consumer habits with the recession. Are your customers buying cheaper cuts ?

Personally, my business hasn’t suffered too much from the recession. I put this down to two factors. Firstly the quality of the meat we sell and secondly, the local economy. So far Bourges hasn’t been too badly hit by the recession. Most people round here work directly or indirectly for the Ministry of Defence, the defence industry or the armed forces. So far, these sectors haven’t suffered, and in the case of Bourges, the local miltary bases are set to expand in numbers of personnel. We don’t make cars, we don’t make steel, so, we still have jobs. In real terms, for the time being at least, there are less people in Bourges who are hard up at the end of the month than elsewhere.

Talking in general terms, France has a strong gastronomic culture, people like their food and they like to know what they eat, so they will always make the effort to buy quality produce. They may eat convenience food through the week, but they’ll always come back to the family butcher for a good Sunday roast. As long as the French retain their love of good food, there will alawys be a place for the butcher, baker, cheesemonger or wine merchant who sell top quality produce.

What about the future of the profession ?

Well, bouchers (butchers) along with boulangers (bakers), charcutiers (pork butchers : delicatessen), fromagers (cheesemongers) – that body of professional that make up what we call les métiers de la bouche, we are all quite worried about the future. There is no new blood coming through. Youngsters today are simply not attracted by our professions, principally for the drawback I mentioned earlier, the hard work, the long hours, the lack of holidays, perhaps todays youngsters are also scared of getting their hands dirty. If we cannot attract apprentices to all these professions, we are going to have a serious problem for the reprise. There will be no one who wants to carry on the business. Butchers, bakers and such like will close down. The problem will perhaps not be so acute in town. Youngsters wishing to set up will be quite happy to invest in a good-going business in the centre of town. The real problem is in the country. Many village butchers are disappearing simply because young people today don’t want to live in the countryside far from the town. Paradoxically, the disappearance of the country butcher has reinforced the roll of the market butcher, he who turns up on market day with his van.

In 2007, you won the prestigeous « Meilleur Ouvrier de France » award. Does this make you the best butcher in France ?

I don’t know. There are plenty of good butchers all over France. In specific terms though, the competition is not designed to find the nation’s best butcher, the main purpose is to reward those who carry out their chosen profession with flair, passion and exactitude. The standards we are required to meet are set by a professional jury, and believe me they are rigorous. Participants in the competition are expected to display their professional skills in the way they prepare, cut and present their meat. Some years there are no finalists or winners because none of the competitors come up to scratch. The year I was won the title, we were fifteen butchers to share the accolade.

And what is the butcher’s favourite cut ?

I love lamb, both to work and to eat. Otherwise I enjoy a good juicy steak.

Beefy Expressions

In French a butcher is un boucher. He works in une Boucherie. The butcher’s better half is la bouchère, she who minds the till. There are different types of butcher, For cold meat –, you can pop into the local Charcuterie or pork butcher’s, where the Charcutier will serve you up a few slices of saucisson (general term for cold meat) or andouillette (tripe sausage) or even some boudin noir (black pudding) (The entire range of French charcuterie is far too complex to go into here). The French still eat horse meat which you can buy from the boucherie chevaline or horse butchers. In our increasingly politically correct times, the boucherie chevaline is dying out, however there are many still who eat horsemeat, far more tender than beef and free of cholesterol. Of course on a menu you should never confuse un bifteck de cheval - A horse meat steak, with un bifteck à cheval – a beef burger served with a fried egg on top. Bifteck has a very English ring to it, almost like beef steak. This is the general term to qualify a steak. In England where we may earn a crust, a Frenchman likes to gagner son bifteck. When it is a question of defending one’s interests you can also défendre son bifteck. Another very English term is Rosbif which is quite simply a joint of roast beef. The English, traditionally being great meat-eaters are often called Rosbif by the French, in the same way that we refer to our hosts as Frogs.

The French like to eat their meat almost raw. If you like your steak bloody,(or underdone in English terms) it will be saignant or bleu meaning rare, that is to say it will briefly have been slapped on a grill so that both sides look less red than when the steak was raw. If you like your steak cooked a little on the inside, you can ask for it à point, and for those who like it cooked- bien cuit.

Trawling though the French language for meat phrases has revealed that the French are not a « meaty » culture. I had a good butcher’s or un coup d’œil at the dictionary, but found nothing terribly meaty or rien à se mettre sous la dent.

So, today was the day that I joined the French army. As with all troops, I hit the ground running, the result, I have no feet left, and this week, I'll have no time to blog. More info in a later post. The bugle has just sounded for dinner, then around ten it will be lights out. Thank heavens the summer holidasy start on Friday, and providing the Better half hasn't concocted a long list of DIY and gardening activities for me, I'll be able to lie back and blog; Please, give me my life back for a day or two at least.

Everything feels normal. Just another Summer Sunday evening.

Today

Slept late
Went out to buy some bread
Came home, painted a wall
Picked cherries and raesberries
Made a couple of fruit pies
Went out to buy cigs
Cleaned paint brushes and rollers
Put the dinner on
Sat down to blog

Heavy agenda for a Sunday? I don't know how to do nothing

Everything feels normal except that everything is upside down, back to front and inside out.

Friday lunch - left a job that I'd had for ten years - teaching English on the local air base. Glass of champage, hugs all round and goodbye. A sign of a tear driving home and . . . well this evening it feels like I had never worked in the place. Tomorrow start a new job, and I know that by tomorrow evening; I will feel that I have worked there all my life. New job, but, the old job will come back with memories of colleagues and old reflexes.

Last week started normally, too normally. Monday morning, new group of trainees. Went through the ritualistic Monday motions as usual, then thought, "this is the last time. Should something strange be happening?" Monday went off as normal, except that I started running round the base to do all my admin for leaving - running round different services and departments getting a papere rubber stamped - the same piece of paper that I ran round getting rubber stamped ten years ago when I started in the job. It felt like doing admin for the recently deceased.

Tuesday, the men came round to rip out our gas central heating. It took two days. They installed a new electric water heater. the fron garden looks like a junkyard.

Wednesday and Thursday - work as usual, then home to repaper, refill, and repaint walls where the radiators used to be. Mammoth job. Wednesday night, out for end of term dinner wioth university colleagues

Thursday had a call from a music friend to "fill in" for a missing singer at a weekend gig. Thursday night, Friday afternoon, put up paper, painetd walls and frantically learend twenty songs for the gig on Saturday.

Friday lunch, left old job

Friday afternoon - more decorating, and, offspring's end of term choir concert and school fete. Friday evening off to dinner with friends

Saturday - painting, learning new songs, gig in the evening and then it was Sunday and here I am, cooking dinner, blogging and not thinking about tomorrow.

Off to Corsica in two weeks. I need a holiday. I need a quiet night in, and next week, new job and electricians come to install neww heating. It never ends.

« F. Mitterrand – Minister for Culture in the newly reshuffled Sarkozy government. » The announcement rolled across the bottom of the screen several times, before it dawned on me that this was not François Mitterrand, the « Sociast Monarch » who died in 1994, but, his very « unsocialist » nephew, Frederic Mitterrand – professional intellectual. He’ll be a good Minister for Culture, he can use long, multisyllable words, that no one understands, he speaks in an affected, soporiphic, lispy voice, he has « untamed hair » and he knows a lot about obscure artists. Just the right bloke for the job. As boring, as mystic and as inpentrable as his uncle.

So, the week started off with a government reshuffle. Sarkozy played musical chairs with his minisiters – putting together a team that will keep a lid on things, and hand out a few goodies in the run up to the 2012 presidential election. No new initiatives please. No bright ideas that might get Sarko « unelected ». The biggest surprise in the reshuffle ? The Prime Minister François Fillon kept his job.

On a local, national and personal level, it was a week of, moving out, moving up, moving down, moving on and moving in. School is almost ove rand all those families who were in one place but must move to another place, are all getting ready to move on.

Last week, the was an incessant coming and going of removal vans down my way. I live just across the road from a huge army base. All those who have to leave for new postings were leaving last week, and all those who have been posted to Bourges moved in last week.

I moved too. On Friday, I left my job at the air base – after ten years, and on Monday, I move on and into the army base for a new job.

Last week was all admin, tying up loose ends and getting ready for new beginnings. Not much time to blog, and I must admit that events in the outside world washed over me, though I did hear about Farah Fawcett and Michael Jackson (I haven’t been living totally in a bubble). An enforced blog holiday. I’ll be back next week, with something more intetesting to say.

Leave work for the last time tomorrow. Bye Bye French Air Force and Hello French army. I've been working ten years drilling French flyers in the complexities and eccentricities of the English language. Here is a typical scene of the beginning of a course.

When the trainees arrive on the first Monday of every course, they are tested.

The test is designed to put the trainees into different ability groups.

Once in their appropriate groups, it is heads down for a fortnight of English. First activity is the "round table" Here is a short example of what a standard Monday morning introduction sounds like.

MONDAY MORNING IN THE CLAS – TAKE ONE

SCENE – a cramped classroom in the language centre. Bright sky blue walls, badly hung orange curtains. Equipment – a miniscule whiteboard that is now too grey to write open, a jurassic TV, one defunct cassette player, a dead VCR, one DVD player (no batteries in the remote control) and two, nearly dry white board markers. It is only half past nine, and already the room smells of feet. Group level – pre-beginner.

Characters – a cast of thousands – one teacher and a group of eight bored - looking trainees ranging from 26 up to 50. All are French air force service personnel. 2 women, both sergeants and the men – a couple of corporals, two sergeants and two warrant officers.

Setting – the trainees are sitting around tables arranged in a large U shape. The teacher strides up and down in the middle.

Teacher – Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the language center. You’ve all had the placement test and the briefing. I though we might start this session with a few introductions. (Teacher introduces him or her self as briefly as possible. Least said the better)
So, over to you. Jean would you like to introduce yourself ?

Jean – ‘Allo, my names is Dupont Jean. I am a military in the French hair force. I have 33 years. I am marry with my wife. Him name is Céline. She have a blue eye and black hairs. She job is a cooker. We are two childrens ; a sun and a doctor. My son name’s is Serge, he have six year and my doctor names is Audrey, she has four. I am from Nancy in ze west of the France. I am a Nancy boy (LOL)

Teacher – what do you do in the air force? (He means he's an aircraft mechanic)

Jean - I am a mechanical airplane

Teacher – Thankyou very much Jean. Can anyone correct Jean’s mistakes ? Er . . . yes . . . Sylvie ?

Sylvie – The Nancy is in the east of the France.

Teacher – Yes, that’s right. So Sylvie, could you introduce yourself ?

Sylvie – My names is Durand Sylvie. I am too a military in ze hair force. I am secretary. I have 26, I am not marry. I am not children. I have hobby, it is sport. I like make sport with my boyfriend.

Teacher – Thankyou Sylvie

MONDAY MORNING IN THE CLAS – TAKE TWO.

Alternative version, where bored, overworked and tired teacher feels like having a spot of fun, by gently mocking his trainees (yes I shouldn’t, but sometimes I do.)

SCENE SETTING AND CHARACTERS – as before -

Teacher – Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the language centre. You’ve all had the placement test and the briefing. I thought we might start this session with a few introductions. (Teacher introduces him or her self as briefly as possible. Least said the better)
So, over to you. Jean would you like to introduce yourself ?

Jean – ‘Allo, my names is Dupont Jean. I am a military in the French hair force.

Teacher – L’Oréal or Jacques Dessange?

(Jean, slightly perturbed by my intervention, hesitates, gives me a strange sideways glance, shrugs his shoulders in incomprehension, and carries on.)

Jean - I have 33 years. I am marry with my wife.

Teacher – Better to married to your own wife rather than someone else’s

Jean - Him name is Céline. She have a blue eye and black hairs.

Teacher – Oh really ! You must show us a photo of her. Does Madame cyclops work

Jean – (slightly perturbed because he doesn't understand) She job is a cooker.

Teacher – Gas or electric ?

Jean – (He did understand the last quip. Ignoring my sledgehammer wit, Jean carries on) We are two childrens, a sun and a doctor. My son name’s is Serge, he have six year and my doctor names is Audrey, she has four.

Teacher – She must be really clever, my doctor is 47

Jean – (after brief hesitation) I am from Nancy in ze west of tthe France. I am a Nancy boy (LOL)

Teacher – Does your wife mind you being a Nancy boy? (pause for laughter, but no one laughs) What do you do in the air force ?

Jean - I am a mechanical airplane

Teacher – Thankyou very much Jean. Can anyone correct Jean’s mistakes ? Er . . . yes . . . Sylvie ?

Sylvie – The Nancy is in the east of the France.

Teacher – Yes, that’s right. (At this point, do not attempt to correct the previous speaker, unless you have the whole of the rest of your life to do it.) So Sylvie, could you introduce yourself ?

Sylvie – My names are Durand Sylvie. I am too a military in ze hair force. I am secretary. I have 26, I am not marry. I am not children. I have hobby, it is sport. I like make sport with my boyfriend.

Teacher – Horizontal jogging, or oriental wheelbarrow races ?

Sylvie – I am like jogging, but my boyfriend is enjoy by horse.

Teacher – He must be welll hung !

Sylvie – No, he is a mechanical.

AND AFTER A LONG DAY OF THIS, YOU MIGHT JUST FANCY ONE OF THESE

The better half tells me that the level of my students is actually very good compared to many of her final year high school students. At the moment she is sittin correcting exam scripts. Tut tutting, shaking her head, sharp intakes of breath and occasional hilarious laughter, miostly in disbelief - or it might be nervous. Post mortem on the exam script later.

AAAAAAAAGH. No time to write, I'm off to the summer sales. They started at 8am this morning. Only five weeks to grab a bargain.

Here's something fruity. Latest harvest from the garden.

Raspberries

Cherries. The French call this variety the Napoleon Cherry - good and fleshy with a slightly acid flavour

And here is a cherry that has grown into a rude and amusing shape.