Yesterday was the Whale's 75th birthday and we decided to cook him a meal at home and invite Elisabeth and her two sons rather than book a restaurant in town.

His day started with a full English breakfast followed by cards and presents - mostly DVDs of his favourite detective series. The physio came in during the morning but I doubt the exercises were enough to use up the extra calories, especially as lunch was sausage and chips.

Jay and CC did the shopping for the evening meal and spent far more than the budget. It might even have been less expensive to eat out. Never mind, our combined efforts produced Soup aux choux de Bruxelles, baked fish with a tomato and fennel sauce, beef stew and dumplings (at the Whale's request) and a cake obtained at the last minute because Jay and I each thought the other had ordered one. It seems that between Christmas and New Year the patisseries only produce 'buches de Noel' so finding  a 'ready made' birthday cake was not easy. Eventually Jay tried one of the more expensive establishments and unearthed a less Christmassy concoction priced at 38 euros. When he explained his dilemma and confessed he only had 30 euros left the patissiere took pity on him and let him off the other 8 euros 'because it was for a birthday'.

Now, what about the Bear? Did he join in the birthday celebrations? Well, he wasn't unpleasant but he decided just before lunch that his tummy was upset and so he wouldn't join us for the meal that evening. Despite that he managed to finish off a quiche from the day before and eat his share of sausage and chips before taking himself off to bed mid afternoon. I went through from tme to time to see if he wanted anything to eat or drink but he declined. When one of his daughters rang I told her he was in bed with a funny tummy but when I took the phone through I heard him tell her that it was his leg that was playing up!

Jay and CC were neither surprised nor sorry that Bear had decided to keep himself away. Jay even went so far as to suggest he was doing it out of 'tact'.

As for the Whale, he had a great time being the centre of attention and eating lots of his favourite food. The only thing that disturbed me was his announcemnet that a gypsy had told him he would live to be a hundred!

The Bear was very good for Christmas. He didn't say much to anyone but, at least, he only got cross once - when the TV wouldn't work because it was unplugged.

He wasn't exactly sociable with our visitors. In fact, after saying 'Bonjour' he settled down behind a book during the aperitif and hardly spoke during the meal either. He went and sat in his armchair while I was making the custard and so when we brought the pudding to the table to set it alight the only people who saw it were our visitors, Jay, CC and me, (as the Whale had gone back to bed to rest his bum!) It was a rather strange end to Christmas dinner but our French friends were intrigued and appeared to enjoy themselves even though they must have thought the English had odd manners.

As soon as they took their leave the TV was switched on and so we were a bit like the Royle family, splayed out in armchairs, over fed and sleepy as we watched Doctor Who etc.

But, it has to be said that this year the Bear bought me a present - a pressure cooker so I was left wondering how he knew. . . .

It was Christmas Eve and the Bear was unusually quiet until I heard a few swearwords coming from the living room. When I went in he looked at me in exasperation and said 'I've lost the English programmes.'

He had pulled out the shelf under the telly and been playing with the digibox connections in an attempt to get the DVD recorder to work. The satellite channels weren't working because the box was switched off but Bear can't tell a red light from a green one. After I had rectified that small point I asked if he had fiddled with the scart leads. He denied it but it was obvious he had since the DVD no longer came through to the television. I chided him for messing around without knowing what he was doing and he retorted that I should have been there to help instead of sitting on my fat arse at the computer!

It didn't take long to rearrange the leads so that we could watch DVDs but recording them remains a mystery.

From what I remember of Norwich in the week up to Christmas it was packed with shoppers laden with packages jostling each other in their search for last minute presents to the accompaniment of the Salvation Army band playing carols.

Today, in Charleville there was no Christmas excitement to be found. The shops seemed even less busy than on a normal Saturday and the only music was a version of 'Just one cornetto' from the children's roundabout. Even the weather was unseasonal - a clear blue sky and sunshine and, although it wasn't exactly warm, several cafés had tables outside and certain hardy customers were drinking their coffee in the fresh air.

The Bear and I had a hot chocolate inside and booked a table for lunch. We then had an hour to spend on the market with Elisabeth. Her stall was deserted and she said she had sold very little so far. In fact, only the fruit and veg traders were doing any business but they weren't exactly overstretched.

Bear sat himself down in a grumpy heap on the only stool and looked sour enough to drive any potential customers away. If only he would drop me off on a Saturday and come home to a warm fire, I could stay to help and Elisabeth would bring me back, but he makes it very difficult by hanging around and making it plain he is suffering.

She must have been quite relieved to see the back of us when we went for lunch.

On the way to La Fontaine Bear muttered that he hadn't bought me a Christmas present and we might 'see something'. However, his 'offer' lacked any sign of enthusiasm and I didn't really know how to respond. I had no means of guessing the extent of his generosity. Did he mean a 10 euro box of chocolates or maybe 20 for a book or a CD? Or might he be prepared to push the boat out for a much needed pressure cooker???

I gather his daughters buy their own presents and  tell him what they cost. He then gives them the money plus a bit more. He has never suggested that I might like to buy something for a present.

The Bear always says he hates Christmas but I think, by that he means he objects to spending time with my family and spending money on presents.

However, he prides himself on being a dab hand at setting up lights and adds to his collection year by year. The problem is that the more strings of bulbs he acquires the more confused the task of putting them up becomes and as he is also getting slower with age the process is accompanied by an increase in grunts, groans and swearing.

This year started well with the arrival of the Christmas tree. He actually complimented Jay and me on our choice, saying it was much better than last years and he gave a hand to put it into position before finding three sets of lights to adorn it.

The problems started when he began to decorate the house. He got himself into a tangle trying to separate the many sets and then, after putting some up he found that they no longer worked. It took three days to organise his lighting and involved much climbing up and down on a step ladder and dropping of drawing pins all over the floor - and I'm still picking up spare bulbs!

The final result is quite pleasing, if a little over the top.

After nearly a week without broadband I'm delighted to be reconnected. But it wasn't all plain sailing.

As I'm far from an expert with computers and remember the problems I had with the last  ISP I called in a couple of 'experts' who had put leaflets through doors. They dealt with all the paperwork involved with the changeover, (except the letter of cancellation) collected the 'livebox' and arrived this morning to set it all up.

Madame installed the new modem downstairs while Monsieur put in a 'wifi' thingummajig in Jay's computer upstairs. Now the Bear knew that the bedroom would be unlocked and despite the fact that he's feeling ill, he was hovering in wait for his chance to go into Jay's room. (Jay keeps his room locked and hides the key to stop Bear prying).

I followed upstairs and found him outside the door. 'Now is my chance to sort out the lightbulbs' he announced gleefully.

'No', I replied firmly, 'We've already tried that. It's not a case of replacing bulbs; it's the wiring and you are NOT going to climb about above the ceiling.'

Deflated, Bear went into the attic but I found him, a few minutes later, IN the room, looking around. He started when he saw me and muttered 'OK, I know I'm not wanted in here. But I'd burn his balls off if I had my way!'. And he grumbled downstairs.

It didn't take long to set up Jay's computer and Monsieur came down and handed me the key. Now he had to tackle the Bear's computer in our bedroom on the ground floor. A couple of coffees and quite a lot of swearing later it transpired that the wifi signal was not getting through, and they came to the conclusion that the fireplace was causing the problem.

They tried various technical acrobatics and whispered frantically to each other but in the end they had to admit defeat. Of course, Bear was not happy but there is absolutely no reason why he can't use this computer to send the few emails that he needs to - and he never goes on  internet explorer anyway.

The Whale has been in a state of heightened anxiety since the doctor said he had a bedsore. He's continually wondering aloud, 'Can I have a walk or will the compress slip'; 'Should I keep my physio appointment or would the exercises aggravate it?'; 'How long do you think it will last?' and so on and so on......

But both nurses insist that it is NOT a bedsore - rather a skin problem akin to excema (not sure how you spell that!), exacerbated by a bruise which was probably caused when he fell over. Nurse number one spelled out her preferred treatment which was completely opposed to that prescribed by the doctor. Gentle rubbing instead of forceful massage,  and she would have preferred to apply a particular dressing but was not allowed to because it would require a prescription.

Nurse number two agreed that it was not a bedsore and decided to use cream instead of the eosine (something like iodine but red) ordered by the doctor.

Opinions vary as to whether or not it's getting better and how long it will last - anything from a couple of weeks to several months!

So now the Whale is in a right state. He doesn't know what to make of so much contradictory advice.

The questions are multiplying by the day.

The Bear has been incredibly GOOD since his latest outburst. He is not the kind of person to apologise but his behaviour has taken a turn for the better.

He took the Whale's Christmas cards to the post office and bought stamps for them!

He didn't make a fuss when I went with Jay to buy a Christmas tree and he even helped to put it in position and then went to find some lights for it.

He has been speaking to everyone - not long conversations of course - but relatively pleasantly.

He has not moaned at me for nearly two days now.

He has not said anything nasty about Whale or Jay either.

Is this the beginning of Peace and Goodwill to all Men?

Will it last till Christmas?

It has been some weeks since the Bear blew a fuse so it didn't come as a big surprise when he had another go at me this morning.

My list of crimes are as follows:

Yesterday I spoke to Jay and the Whale when we got back from town.

I expect life to revolve round me. e.g. As I can't walk or drive at present I need a lift to visit friends or help on the market. If the Bear didn't take me Jay would - and that would be even worse in Bear's eyes!

I talk too much, especially on the phone or to French people.

I spend too much time on the computer.

I whisper in corners with Jay and plan things without Bear knowing.

I show Jay things that I do on the computer.

I treat him (Bear) like a 'lodger'. . . . .

You don't have to be insane to live in this house but it helps - or does it?