Nora Batty

When we came home last night we found a bat in our porch.  I think she is rather cute but others don't agree.  I suppose like the original Nora Batty, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.



A Common Pipistrelle bat



I asked the UK Bat Conservation Trust and  Rosalind Buckley thinks it is a Common Pipistrelle bat. 

You can read more about them in this Wikipedia article and there are more pictures on this google images page .

All species of bats are protected against disturbance by law in the UK, even just by using flash photography.  Nora showed no reaction to our presence at all but she had gone by the next morning.

In France legislation dating from 2007 also exists to protect bats (l'arrêté ministériel du 23 avril 2007 relatif à la protection des mammifères selon l'article L.411-1 du Code de l'Environnement) and I probably infringed the law by taking the photograph.  Nineteen species are on the French red list of endangered species and thirteen of those are on the World red list.  

There is no shortage of moths and insects around us so I hope that other conditions are favorable to enable them to breed and flourish here.

La Rentrée

Throughout the summer politicians in France are on holiday. That has not stopped the government from expelling hundreds of Roumanian gypsies and deporting them back to Bucharest. In fact, to be more accurate, they are leaving “voluntarily” after having received 300 euros per head as a resettlement allowance.

The policy received more coverage after a speech by Sarkozy at Grenoble which emphasized “La Securité” and these two things were linked together by implication. His popularity rose in the opinion polls as a result.

The combination of picking on a minority group and linking it to stronger controls on immigration appeals to many voters in France, particularly those who vote for the Front National. Seeking to overtly appeal to an underlying current of racist opinion is a dangerous political card to play. It has already rebounded once on the UMP earlier in the year when Eric Besson, the Minister for Immigration and National Identity launched a national debate about what it is to be French, opening the door for the National Front to hijack it and gain substantially in the Regional Elections.

The reaction of the Socialists during the summer has been to deliberately say nothing very much because previously, when they reacted strongly, they found that it helped the UMP. Politicians are now back at work and this morning Segolene Royal, who really seems to be attempting a rapprochement with Martine Aubry, was on France Inter. She avoided fully answering a question which was posed about the deportations and security, and turned it into a question about how she would deal with the rising level of delinquency. Again playing on people’s fears and practising negative politics.
 I was disappointed because someone needs to say that blaming minorities for your problems is a slippery slope towards fascism. Stephane Guillon would have been quick to point this out in one of his bitter and often outrageous chroniques, but he was sacked by France Inter in June. http://johnpreedy.blogspot.com/2010/07/thousand-protesters-outside-france.html
 
In addition, whilst blaming minorities when you are in difficulty might gain you a short term political advantage, it does not face the real problems of the country. Of course what people perceive as the real problems and the reality are different things, and depend on your political complexion. The Socialists and the more extreme left are still fighting the battle against exploitation of the workers, and asking for even more social protection, whilst the Right have resorted to stigmatizing small minorities to distract attention from their lack of leadership concerning economic issues.
 Meanwhile Germany has just posted record growth figures for the last quarter.

Sarkozy had the opportunity to set France on a new path towards a more prosperous future. When he was elected I hoped that he would seek to change people’s attitudes concerning the relationship between the Individual and their expectations of the role of State, a sort of French Thatcherite revolution, but he has bottled it in favour of a fuzzy economic policy and a populist appeal to right wing voters. What a disappointment!

A Basal Cell Skin Cancer

24th August 2010

Yesterday I had a skin cancer removed. It was a basal cell epthelioma. It started as a small spot which I first noticed in March/April and which was not resolving.
I had a consultation in June with the specialist, Dr Labrousse, who said that it needed to be removed but it was a type of cancer that didn’t metastasize, and wasn’t dangerous, so I decided to have a holiday and redo the kitchen in the flat in Richmond before having the minor operation. During five months it had tripled in diameter.

The operation was done under local anaesthetic and after the injections I felt nothing. Since it was on the bridge of my nose I had my eyes closed throughout. Although I am not nervous in these situations, and I have had more needles stuck in me during chemotherapy twenty years ago* than a typical pin cushion, I am unable to prevent a mild shock reaction and I was a bit wobbly for about an hour afterwards, so Christiane had to drive us home from Brive. We stopped in Vayrac to see Anne’s expo and I felt ill at ease with people because of the large dressing on my nose, but nobody looked at me strangely so it was all in my head. The stitches are due to be taken out in nine days and until then I am supposed to wear the dressing because otherwise my glasses sit right on the stitches.

Dr Labrousse said that I had a very fair skin and I must be careful to avoid the sun. He is the second doctor to tell me this in the last few weeks. Fortunately throughout my life I have always avoided the sun because I burn very quickly, but my face is more difficult to protect.  Here, in the summer, just walking about for twenty minutes on a sunny day is enough to make me go pink and when I’m gardening I usually wear long sleeves and my Australian hat!

I have a friend, with Scottish ancestry, who, when he was younger, worked in Africa and the Far East for many years. Now, in his sixties, he has had several cancers of this type on his arms, legs and face. But it isn’t only the English, Scottish and Irish who have this problem because my French neighbour has also had an epthelioma as well! For all fair skinned Europeans the sun is potentially dangerous!

12th September 2010

One very small advantage of this minor op is that pulling the skin together after the cancer has been excised has removed at least one wrinkle!

When the stitches come out I will post another photo!

And here it is! The skin is still quite reddish locally but that will fade.

* I first mentioned this in May, click here to read more.

Wild Beasts in Our Garden

The first four photos were all taken within an hour of each other in the lower part of our sloping garden which we keep as a meadow. I was using a Canon 450D and the standard 18-55mm kit lens.

 Rose Chafer - Cetonia aurata

Large Conehead Cricket - Ruspolia nitidula

Red and Black Striped Shield Bugs - Graphosoma italicum

Small Pearl Bordered Fritillary - Clossiana selene

Wasp Spider - Argiope bruennichi

European Praying Mantis - Mantis religiosa

Replacing the Kitchen

When we moved to France four years ago we kept our flat in Richmond as a hedge against UK property price inflation and to provide us with some income from letting.  In the last two years we have progressively replaced every electrical item, together with the boiler and the hot water tank, as a result of breakdowns.  Fortunately Jacqueline and Ari were very tolerant about all of this but they are now buying a house and the flat has been empty since early July.

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We had already decided to replace the kitchen, which was installed when the building was built in 1994 and was deteriorating.  The kitchen cabinets of that period sat directly on the concrete floor and every time there was a leak it soaked into the chipboard.  
 To save some money I have done most of the work myself, but having no choice about the timing has meant that we missed our planned trip to the Pyrenees and we have ended up doing it all in a hot and humid UK summer.

We started on 7^th July and have just finished.  There was a destruction phase, requiring many trips to the tip, followed by chasing the walls for changes to the electrics, followed by a rapid installation of the base units.  This gives a strong illusion of progress which then seems to slow to a crawl as the work moves towards more detailed electrics, plumbing and carpentry.  

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The NVQ training that I did for plumbing and the exam that I passed on the 16^th edition IEE electrical regulations (85% the highest result the training centre had ever had)  were helpful, but not as useful as the two months that I spent last year supervising Audrey’s major refurbishment project.  There is no substitute for experience in practical matters!  Perhaps one day I will get measurements right first time and not make silly mistakes.  Not that I am intending to do more of such projects.  In fact I would be quite happy if this was the last one that I do!  I don’t enjoy the hard work and I get very frustrated when I don’t foresee the problem areas.  If you don't use an Ikea corner unit, beware of corners in L-shaped kitchens!! Ikea give no advice about this sort of thing and you are expected to know! The quality of their kitchen cabinets, however,  is very good and all doors and drawers have soft close mechanisms which are not at all expensive.

The physical toll is several episodes of gout, a few bruises and a notch less on my belt!  Unusually I have only given myself one electric shock when I forgot that the cooker supply is on a separate MCB.  Last week I avoided flooding the flat downstairs because I noticed, just before leaving for the day, that a connection I had made earlier was leaking.  That was a close thing.

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The end result looks good but, as usual, when I look at it I see the things that didn’t go quite right, or caused a problem, and take the rest for granted. 

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Until yesterday there was still an issue with the heating system to put right, before we could leave and return to our home in the Lot. We were waiting on the very busy Paul to come and sort it out.  He has been and checked everything, he wired in a new valve actuator, and we hope that this is now all resolved.  I will check it again tomorrow. Heating system electrics are probably the most complicated subject that electricians ever tackle and not many can do it.  Of course it would be so much easier if they worked to drawings and labelled wires, like one does on an engineering project, but they prefer not to!

We have found a young couple through Foxtons who take over on 1^st September.  We hope that they have a better experience than the last tenants and no breakdowns!

Jeannot and the Pink Rabbit

Jeannot Lapin lived in the Lot in France. He was a very young rabbit and he was very curious. He liked to taste all the plants in John’s garden. He had even dug some of them up to see what was underneath, but there was nothing interesting hidden there and he couldn’t understand why this made John so angry.
Jeannot Lapin loved to listen to other people’s conversations. One day he heard Christiane telling the lady next door that they had been to the seaside in Brittany. “There are lots of wonderful things there, including a pink rabbit. C’est une vraie merveille!” she said.
Now Jeannot had never seen a pink rabbit and he wanted to go and meet him. A few days later as he was going for an evening hop around the village he saw a poster saying “Visit to Brittany. Leaves from here tomorrow at half past seven”.
So the next morning, without a word to anyone, because he knew that his Mummy wouldn’t let him go on his own, he hid in the bushes while everyone got on the coach. At the last minute he hopped into the luggage compartment and kept very still while the driver closed the doors. All day the coach rumbled along, but Jeannot didn’t mind, he was used to the dark and he had a long sleep.


 Suddenly the noise stopped and Jeannot woke up with a start. The luggage doors opened and, when no one was looking, he hopped out and found himself next to the sea; it was very big and very wet.

There was a big grey and white bird standing at the edge of the water and Jeannot thought “I could ask if it knows the Pink Rabbit”. So he hopped over to it and said,

“Hello, my name is Jeannot, I’m from the Lot and I’m looking for the Pink Rabbit, do you know where he is?”

“Aaaawk, aaawk, my name is Mme Mouette-Machin-Chouette and I don’t know anything about pink rabbits. Are they good to eat? I can only find fish and crabs here! Aaaawk! Aaaawk!“

Jeannot ran away quickly, hopped over the rocks to another beach and hid in a hole.

 The next day, when Jeannot looked out of the hole, there was a seal sunbathing and looking very relaxed on the rocks at the edge of the water. “Perhaps he knows where to find the Pink Rabbit” thought Jeannot. “I’ll go and ask him.”

“Hello, my name is Jeannot, I’m from the Lot and I’m looking for the Pink Rabbit” he said to the big fat seal. “Do you know where he is?”

“Hello Jeannot, my furry little rabbit” said the seal. “My name is Phillippe “Flipper” Phoque and I would very much like to help you, but I live in the sea and there are no rabbits there, not even pink ones”.

“Oh dear!” thought Jeannot after he had said goodbye to Philippe “Flipper” Phoque, the very polite seal. “I never thought it would be so difficult to find the Pink Rabbit”.

In the evening, after the people on the beach had left, he was hopping along the coastal path when suddenly he saw some rabbits. “Surely they know about the Pink Rabbit” he thought. He went up to the nearest rabbit and said, “Hello, my name is Jeannot, I’m from the Lot and I’m looking for the Pink Rabbit” “Please do you know where he is”?

“Bonjour, my name is Pierre, lapin de garenne of the ancient family Delaplage de Landrellec . Our family are all grey, as grey as the sea and the sky in winter, as grey as our family shield. We know that the grey grass tastes best and we have lived in the biggest holes in the greyest rocks of Landrellec for more years than we can count, but we don’t welcome strangers, and we certainly don’t know any Pink Rabbits!”

Jeannot was very hungry so he tried some of the grey grass, but it was very tough and salty. He also tried some of the bright green seaweed that he found on the beach, but it was very slimy and he spat it out! He didn’t like Pierre Delaplage de Landrellec and his ancient grey family so he carried on along the coastal path until he found a hole to sleep in.

Jeannot woke up next day feeling that he was never going to find the Pink Rabbit. But he set out along the path once more. In the distance he saw a beautiful duck. Now Jeannot knew the ducks in his village in the Lot. They were dirty, white and lazy. They just sat around all day, but this duck had a bright red beak, beautiful white, brown and green feathers and he was paddling in the water. He decided to ask once more about the Pink Rabbit.

“Hello, my name is Jeannot, I’m from the Lot”. He said to the beautiful duck.

“Hello Jeannot mon cher” said the duck. “My name is Cedric Shelduck.”

“Excuse me Sir, but I’m looking for the Pink Rabbit. Please do you know where he is?” said Jeannot.

“Mais oui mon cher, every summer I fly here for my holidays and I have seen him near Ploumanach. He is as big as a house, he is all pink and he has a good view of the sea” said Cedric.

Jeannot thought that this sounded rather frightening and asked Cedric if the big pink rabbit was friendly.

Cedric thought for a moment and said “Il est plutôt très calme mon petit, he is very calm and laid back because he is made all of granite, mon cher! “

Now although Jeannot was a very curious young rabbit he had never heard of granite. “Please M. Cedric Shelduck what is granite?”
“The rock that you are standing on is granite, mon cher petit”, said Cedric.

Jeannot was very disappointed. He had come all the way to Brittany to meet the Pink Rabbit and it was only a big piece of rock. He hesitated for a moment and then decided he would go to see it anyway.

“Please M. Cedric how do I find it?” said Jeannot.

“Continue along this path, turn right at the empty bottle, go up the track and then down to the next path and look behind you! Bonne journée mon petit lapin, say bonjour to the Pink Rabbit for me!” said Cedric.

The Pink Rabbit was exactly like Cedric had said, “As big as a house, all pink and it overlooked the sea. It was very fine and impressive but only a little bit like a rabbit.

As he sat there, looking at the enormous pink rabbit, Jeannot thought about his home in the Lot. He had been away for a long time and he was missing his family and the nice fresh green grass of the Lot. He didn’t like the salty grey grass or the slimy bright green seaweed, and he was very hungry, so he picked up a small piece of pink granite and went to take the coach home again.

When he got home his mother had been very concerned about him. “Jeannot, you’re a very naughty boy. Your father and I were really worried about you, going off like that without a word to anyone. We thought you had had an accident. We looked everywhere; we even asked the rabbits who live up near the Mayor, but nobody had seen you! ……… ……… ……..”. She carried on like that for a full half hour and when she had finally finished scolding him, he told her where he had been, what he had done and showed her the piece of pink granite. “Well that’s all very interesting I’m sure but I hope you’ve learnt something from all this!” she said.

Jeannot thought about that for a while and decided that he had learnt not to believe everything he overheard.

As he went to sleep Jeannot was thinking that tomorrow he would go and see what the man in the house with the swimming pool had planted in his vegetable garden. “You never know, “it might be interesting, tasty and different”.

“And don’t you go digging up things in the neighbour’s garden either!” said his mother, from the other end of the rabbit hole. 

You can read more Jeannot stories here:
Jeannot and his Little World
Jeannot has a Narrow Escape

Oscar and Oscar-Nini the Sweet Corn Monster

Once upon a time there was a little boy called Oscar. He was a lovely little boy and he was very good.
Oscar adored sweet corn. One day he was eating his dinner and he had not just one, not just two, not just three, not just four, but FIVE pieces of sweet corn. Then his sister Georgia asked for a piece of his sweet corn.

Suddenly he changed into a monster. His hair went all green, spiky and stood up on end, his face went all yellow and he started spitting little yellow pieces of sweet corn all over everybody and everything. Pfft! Pft! Pft! He went.

He spat over the table, he spat over Mummy, he spat over Daddy, he spat over Georgia. Pfft! Pft! Pft!  There were little pieces of sweet corn everywhere! Help! Help! Oscar-Nini the sweet corn monster has appeared. “What we can do?" said Mummy.

Oscar-Nini ate everybody’s sweet corn and then he started to yell.

Aaaargh, he screamed. “I’m hungry, where's my sweet corn?"

Mummy didn’t know what to do. Daddy said “perhaps he likes carrots?”.

They gave him a carrot; he took one bite, spat it out and carried on yelling.

They gave him a radish; he took a bite, spat it out and carried on yelling even louder. "Aaargh, aargh", yelled Oscar-Nini! He was a real monster!

They gave him some spinach; he didn't even chew it but just spat it out and yelled and yelled. "Aaargh! Aargh", screamed Oscar-Nini! They gave him a raspberry; he put it in his mouth, but then spat it out and yelled even more. "Aaargh! Aargh", screamed Oscar-Nini the sweet corn monster!

“Why don’t you give him a strawberry?” said Georgia, who was fed up with all the yelling.

So they gave Oscar-Nini, the scary yellow sweet corn monster, a strawberry and suddenly all was quiet.

His hair went blonde and flat, his face went pink and their little lovely boy Oscar had reappeared.

“Please can I have another strawberry?” said Oscar.