We definitely need another toilet downstairs. Every morning I feel as though I'm doing a juggling act with the Bear and the Whale. The Whale always stays in there for ages so I try to persuade the Bear to go first but he isn't always awake. Then the dilemma is 'do I let sleeping bears lie' or do I risk waking him with a cup of coffee before asking him to go to the loo first? The problem is that he knows the Whale needs to go urgently some mornings but takes his time going himself. BUT, if I leave him snoring he will wake up while the Whale is ensconced and moan because I didn't warn him.

Things came to a head - or a bottom - yesterday when the Whale had an enema (twice weekly event) causing the inevitable mess all over the place - a mixture of the obvious plus the foul smelling chemical they call Normacol - which requires a thorough cleaning of toilet with neat bleach and about half a kitchen roll!

The Bear always complains audibly that he doesn't like me clearing up HIS mess and so embarrasses the poor Whale no end. Unfortunately there are times when the Normacol has a 'second working' so to speak, and the Whale, who does not have full sensation and not a lot of control, doesn't always realise till it's too late. This means that he has quite a few false alarms because he is terribly worried about 'having an accident' and so I wasn't too bothered when he asked me to get the loo ready a second time. 'OK' I said, 'but don't you go messing up my clean toilet!'

Half an hour later I regretted that remark bacause there were sighs and swearings emanating from the smallest room and when I investigated he had to have a change of clothes.

The worst was that the Bear got wind of this and started complaining loudly and the poor Whale ended up sobbing. It is a very strange experience trying to comfort one's ex-husband at the same time as carrying on an argument with one's husband . . . . .

It was not until we had lived in France for a couple of years that we realised we had to fill in tax forms even though our pensions were taxed in England.

After several visits to the local impots office - one of which lasted for hours because of the queue - I finally posted my large envelope into the box indicated by the chap on duty and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

A few months later we received a huge taxbill!!

Oh no! The pleasant lady at the tax office had explained how to fill in the form and said it was 'only for information' and we wouldn't be taxed again. So, it was back to 'impots' armed with all the paperwork I had carefully photocopied to put in with the form plus a (nearly) bilingual friend for support.

We were in fighting mood but I was soon deflated when it was explained that I hadn't filled the form in properly. They were very nice about it and a few days later we received a letter saying we didn't owe anything after all. I felt like framing it!

Anyway, this year I'm not taking any chances. I've spent the morning gathering all the necessary evidence and photocopying it but I'm not writing a single figure on the form until I'm sitting opposite a 'tax counsellor'.

When we first came to France, one of the things the Whale really wanted to have was British telly. My French friends took me to see their favourite television dealer where I bought a new set but he shook his head when I asked about receiving BBC etc.and sent us on to another shop. There, the owner insisted that it was not possible to get the channels I wanted and persuaded me to subscribe to TPS, which had six English channels.

There was a special offer which provided the satellite dish for free - although the fitting cost about 100 euros - but you had to 'sign up' for a minimum of two years. Well, call me fussy, but the available programmes were awful: BBC Prime is mainly repeats - good, bad or indifferent - BBC World News is OK but you don't want to watch it all day, CNN, ditto, and the rest consisted of shopping or religious programmes!

We moved after finding a house to buy and  TPS moved with us by which time we were thoroughly sick of it. The chap who came to reposition the dish on the roof managed to break several tiles and it wasn't easy to find someone who was prepared to come and replace the six damaged ones. When the picture went all fuzzy we simply didn't bother any more.

Then, a few months after I had managed to cancel the subscription, I discovered 'French News', a paper for expats in France, and found loads of adverts for all BRITISH television channels. Of course, all the firms were in Brittany or the south but a few phone calls confirmed that it was perfectly possible to get the desired programmes.

So, I started asking other local television 'specialists' and the most helpful one turned out to be fairly near where we live. The man said he would ask his engineer and get back to me. Two weeks later I rang and was told they didn't think it would work unless we had a 150cm dish!!!

After speaking at length to an English chap in the Dordogne I managed to arrange for the local man to telephone him for advice. But did he? Not on your life! So, I tried the internet and, after several phonecalls, found a Frenchman about 100kms away who said he had installed British television successfully but  that we were out of his area. He, too, agreed to speak to the local people if they could be bothered to ring him - but they couldn't!

At last, I found an advert in French News that promised English satellite installations in ALL areas of France - even though they, too were situated way down south.

Bingo!!! - they were able to provide the decoder, a one off payment card for Channel 4 and ITV (by mail order) and an engineer about a 40 minute drive away. Within a week we were up and running.

Just one problem though - the wiring was in place for the main television in the livingroom where the Whale rarely comes (as he is 'frozen out' by the Bear) so he can only watch recordings - that's if his favourite programmes don't clash with the Bear's. . . . .

There is one consolation: it keeps the Bear occupied, out of my hair - and away from DIY.

Let's be thankful for small mercies.