Way back in December Whale was worried about a possible bedsore and it continues to bug him - and me too.
The nurses, who do alternate weeks, still can't agree on the treatment and each Monday when the new one comes on duty we have lots of 'Ooh-la-la's as each decides that it is getting worse, then looks more closely and decides it's not that bad after all.
The problem is that it's impossible to see what's going on as half of Whale's behind is dyed bright pink from the French version of iodine. One of the nurses slaps it on like there's no tomorrow - resulting in pink stained sheets, pants, trousers and even the loo - while the other prefers to use a kind of 'sticky-all-over' plaster which you are supposed to leave on for at least 48 hours. Bearing in mind the position though, it usually comes off within a few hours.
According to the doctor, these plasters do more harm than good but it's more than Whale's life is worth to quote her opinion to the nurses.
Meanwhile, poor Whale is obsessed with the condition of his bum and is always asking me to check if the plaster has come off or the compress has slipped.
I have a feeling that if it were left well alone it would get better all by itself. In fact, under that rosy pink colouring it may be better already.
Three years ago the French government did its best to suppress one of the many Bank Holidays in May. They opted for Whit Monday and suggested that it would be a 'day of solidarity' to raise funds for vulnerable people (following the deaths during the 2003 heatwave). This meant people would work but not get paid.
As you may imagine, this did not go down well and each year there has been uncertainty about who was working or not. Apparently 60% of workers took the day off in 2006.
Last year, for example, no-one knew until the last minute whether schools would be open. In fact, they were closed. This year, the schools are closed again but due warning was given. In return, teachers have undertaken to put in two extra half day sessions - presumably sans pupils.
Some supermarkets are advertising business as usual while others are operating 'Sunday' hours.
With typical Gallic tenacity the French are holding out for their right to a day off - especially if it involves a long weekend - but lorry drivers are in a strange position. It seems they are officially at work but, because of 'jour de ferié' rules, their vehicles are not allowed on the roads.
There was a mediaeval market in a neighbouring town today and CC's new friend cum French teacher, Catherine, offered to take us along this afternoon.
However, the Bear got wind of it and made life rather difficult in his own inimitable way. He didn't want me to go out with CC so he made a fuss about wanting to go too. He would take me himself. This made sure that CC wouldn't come with us but, as it happened, she had a lot to do and it gave her a good excuse to stay at home.
Consequently, we rang our friend to say the Bear and I would meet her there about 6 o'clock.
The weather was still warm when we arrived and the market was in full swing. The stall holders were all in costume and entertainment was provided by a middle aged man doing acrobatics and balancing on two chairs. He also played the bagpipes and recorder - but not all at the same time.
The Bear objected to the noise and complained because I wouldn't buy any strawberries (which were past their best) or a chicken (because I didn't want to carry one around in the humid weather).
Then Catherine turned up with her younger daughter and we started chatting. At first, Bear was polite and charming, but he soon got fed up and said he was going to sit down. In fairness, his legs were playing him up. Catherine, Annaelle and I walked round the market and she seemed to know an awful lot of people. She was on her fifth lot of kisses, greetings and introductions when a disgruntled Bear appeared at my shoulder.
"I've had enough. It was very rude of you to walk off like that. I want to go home."
I apologised to Catherine, we said our goodbyes and then I asked Bear why he had been so impolite.
No reasonable answer was forthcoming but it was plain he didn't want to walk round with her because he suddenly began to take an interest in the products on display.
First he bought some little trinket boxes from a craft stall to give to his daughters, grandaughters and ex-wife when we go to England. Despite my suggestions, he chose five identical ones.
Then he gravitated towards the cider stall where a large notice proclaimed that their cider had been drunk since 1529. They were also selling beer made with ash leaves and endives (as well as hops and yeast) so we bought some out of curiosity.
I asked him if he wanted a chicken - now that we were leaving - and we went back to the stall.
"The one I had my eye on has gone. It's all your fault. You should let me buy things when I see them."
The quiches displayed nearby drew his attention. They were certainly unusual as the fillings were topinambours (Jerusalem artichokes) or orties (nettles). We bought a large topinambour and a small nettle one.
The chap also sold wine infused with herbs and spices according to old recipes. We were offered tastings and were tempted to buy a white wine flavoured with honey and sage and a red wine with cinnamon, ginger and cardomom plus rose petals.
By this time we had bumped into Catherine and Annaelle three times and it was a bit embarrassing. I was relieved when we made our way to the car and drove home.
Put the flags out: Bear actually enjoyed himself today and was in a good mood (part of the time anyway).
He had a long lie-in while I went with Jay to an appointment in town but when he eventually got up we went into town for lunch and then did some shopping at his favourite D.I.Y. shop.
After that we drove to Launois-sur-Vence where there is a small brewery and bought two dozen bottles of 'blonde' - and of course, Bear sampled the draught beer while we were there. I had a fruit juice because, although I like their 'blonde', it was a hot, humid day and I didn't want to provoke a headache.
"I find beer helps reduce my sugar levels," said Bear jovially.
"Really? But I don't think you're supposed to drink too much." (he's diabetic).
"This is only my third." (He'd had two at lunchtime.)
During the afternoon he was busy on the computer and I had to help him with sending emails, but then he asked me about searching for a book on Amazon. I found the site, brought up the book search and told him to enter what he was looking for.
He wrote 'musical instruments' and clicked 'go' before I could stop him. There were thousands of results.
"Can you you be more specific?"
"Yes, organs."
This still brought up many pages so I asked if he knew the title or author.
"It's about wurlitzers."
We were now reduced to four books and the first one was "it" but rather more expensive than he'd thought. It seems his daughter had asked him to chose a book for a birthday present (he'll be 80 next month) but this one was over budget.
"Why don't we go halves?" I suggested.
A bit more humming and hahing and then he agreed. I put it on my account and he was very happy.
A bit later he came up with the idea of trying out the new TGV (fast train) to Paris which starts the day after his birthday. We looked it up on the website but couldn't persuade it to accept a reservation for a day return.
"Let's go to the station. Will you come with me?"
So I dropped everything and went along. We booked first-class return tickets for 80 euros (total - not each) and so he came away extremely pleased.
On the way home he was in a really good mood and wanted to stop at the local bar to celebrate. He had three beers in the time it took me to drink one campari and, although you couldn't say he was tipsy, he was certainly mellow.
That evening when his daughter rang, I answered as usual and said "He's a happy bunny today".
Yesterday I woke up with a pain in the neck and suspected the onset of a migraine. Some of the symptoms were there: purple 'lights' when I closed my eyes and a frequent need to spend a penny. I managed to ward off the worst with a dose of Nurofen and a thick layer of 'Baume Arome' all over my neck, shoulders and forehead but still stayed in bed till after 9 o'clock.
CC did my share of the chores, but, as it was not comfortable to stay in bed and the 'migraine' was reduced to a head and neckache, I moped around the house like a washed out dish-rag.
By late afternoon I felt a bit more human and sat in the armchair next to the Bear who had his nose in a book as usual.
"What are your plans for next week?" he suddenly asked.
I'd been dreading this, as CC, Jay and I had arranged to go and see a house and I was leaving it as long as possible before telling Bear. If he could be reasonable we'd willingly have invited him to come with us but he has made it plain that he wouldn't be seen dead in the same car as Jay so it's not surprising Jay isn't keen on taking him anywhere.
"Well, we have arranged to go and see that house I showed you on the computer . . ."
"I knew it", he interrupted, "you've been scheming behind my back as usual."
He then started a tirade against CC and Jay because they eat late and 'make a noise' in the kitchen. According to him, I'm too afraid of them to tell them off about it (!) and I ought to throw them out, change the locks and not let them come back in.
Naturally, I told him he was being ridiculous but he was now in full swing. He complained that I had been 'off' with him since my sister's visit, that I had not taken enough notice of him all day - that I had actually ignored him (how could I be so inconsiderate??!!) and the fact that I'd been feeling unwell was no excuse.
At that point I walked out and left him to stew. Maybe he would think back to a few days ago when my sister let fly at him for being an unreasonable bully. She wasn't the first visitor to have a go at him. Several friends have told him what a sod he can be and he accepts it at the time but soon reverts to normal.
Anyway, last night he calmed down fairly quickly and called me to ask what programme I'd like to watch.
Today he didn't make snide remarks about us going out, (the house is not at all suitable by the way), but I'm waiting for it to come up at the next row.
The roofman gave us an estimate that was actually less than I'd feared and he turned up 48 hours later to do the repair. The chimney has been demolished, the aerial is in the loft and, so far, no rain has come in.
The Bear is back to his normal, grumpy self. He was put out because CC did some French with a friend this morning and, at present, he is behind a book sulking because I didn't jump at his offer to go out. The room looks so much better for it's coat of paint in 'blanc coton' but there's still a huge pile of books to re-arrange, not to mention garden to dig and flowers and veg to plant so I can't see any reason to go for a drive for the sake of it. Anyway, if Bear wants to go out there's nothing to stop him.
However, we have booked a trip to England in June to go to a party for a very special friend. It will also be a chance to see other friends I haven't for some time - although Bear saw some of them during his visit in April.
Much to my relief we are going by train. There have been some pretty near misses in the car recently and I would not relish being a passenger with him driving all the way to Norwich. His eyes are definitely getting worse. This means that I must drive more and get used to negotiating the traffic and re-learning how to park.
When Bear eases the car into a space there has often been a bump lately and so I find myself tensing up in anticipation whenever we go into town. Then there was the time he drove out in front of an oncoming car at a roundabout: the driver waved his fist at me (we still have a RHD car) and then Bear told me off because my head was in the way!
This week has been extra busy because my sister and her husband arrived on Sunday for a bit of a 'working holiday'. One of Roger's hobbies is painting and decorating and he volunteered to paint our living room. (Hence the recent wallpaper stripping).
Bear was his usual mixture of 'helpful' and grumpy. While we were in town on Tuesday Jay rang to ask if he and CC should shop for the evening meal and Bear started moaning loudly and rudely that there was 'too much communication' as if no-one had the right to phone me when I was out.
He went on a bit and suddenly Wendy let fly at him. It took us all by surprise but she certainly gave him a piece of her mind and, in effect, told him to shut up: she hadn't come on holiday to hear him shouting at her sister and embarrassing her. Bear opened his mouth to reply but she shouted him down and he crumpled!
Roger parked the car, Bear went for the parking ticket and I congratulated my sister. Then Roger saw a lady with a Yorkie (they have two at home) and wanted to go over and say hello so I went with him to translate.
The next thing we knew, Wendy and the Bear were walking off arm in arm! Roger and I met up with them in our favourite cafe and I later found out that she had continued to admonish him for getting in a strop about my kids ringing me on the mobile and he had agreed that he was unreasonable. He finished by saying, 'I'm not going to forgive you . . . .because there's nothing to forgive'
Since then he has been making an effort to be more 'helpful' at home; he picked up some used cups and plates and took them to the sink; he helped clear the table after dinner; he let other people choose the TV programmes they wanted and was noticeably more pleasant.
There is a leak in the roof above CC's bedroom. The water only comes in when the wind is blowing in a certain direction at the same time as its raining cats and dogs so it's not THAT serious. However, it does need fixing.
A couple of months ago the father of a girl I was helping with English had a look and decided that the problem was a 'sick chimney'. He is a builder, rather than a roof specialist, but he said he would do it as soon as it stopped raining long enough.
OK, it stopped raining here on March 26th - for over a month - but he didn't turn up. I asked the girl's mum when she came to collect her daughter if her husband still wanted to do the repair.
"I'll ask him," she said, "and let you know next time we come."
Since then, I haven't seen anything of them. The weather remained dry so I phoned the nearest roofman in the yellow pages. His wife answered, took down the details, and said he'd get in touch.
But he didn't. I rang a few times more but there was no reply - nor answerphone.
The yellow pages is full of 'couvreurs' but it would be nice to have a personal recommendation so I started making enquiries.
At the May 8th ceremony, whilst talking to Felix I happened to ask if he knew any roofers. He said he knew a good chap and that he would send him round.
Sure enough, while I was out yesterday there was a frantic phonecall from the Whale saying a roofman had been. He thought he had been sent by our friends in the next village and he would be coming back at midday.
Later I discovered that the 'roofman' was, in fact Felix who had come to say that he was arranging to come back with his roofman another day. It seemed he had rung the bell but as there was no answer he had tried the door and walked in - giving Whale a bit of a shock.
Between his bad English and Whale's bad French it's little wonder the message was a tad confused. Anyway, the 'couvreur' came back today when Bear and I were in town (for an injection in his knee) and CC had to cope. As far as she could understand, he agrees there's a problem with the chimney: it will have to be dismantled, so he's coming back with a 'macon'.
Sounds as though this job is going to be expensive.
May 8th - VE Day - is a jour de ferié (Bank Holiday) in France and a simple ceremony is held in most towns and villages.
Here, we were invited to gather in the square in front of the mairie for 11.30. We try to be among the first to arrive because it is customary to greet everyone already there with a handshake or kisses and it's not always easy to remember which people you have seen when there are lots and they keep moving about.
We timed it well and found about a dozen villagers huddled against the mairie steps to keep out of the wind. After four years of residence we now find nearly every face familiar even if we don't know names. However, I still can't be sure whether or not I'm on kissing terms, and if so, how many. Four is the tradition but lots of people stop at two: however if you stop at two you can bet there is a cheek held out to continue.
Anyway, by the time all the kissing and handshaking were done, Monsieur le Maire and his wife came down the steps and did a lightning tour of greeting before we all gathered round the memorial to listen to a speech written by a government minister (I think) and read out by the maire. Two little girls laid the wreath; there was a minute's silence followed by a brisk and jolly version of the Marseillaise and then we all trouped into the mairie for the vin d'honneur - champagne and nibbles.
Various people came up for a chat: Mme Coutin, the president of the 'Old People's club'; Daniel, our supplier of champagne; Felix, a chap who speaks several languages - hopefully better than he speaks English - the three 'deputy mayors' who were there, and, of course, the Mayor and his wife.
I was determined to stop after one glass but, in the end, I had three and came back feeling just a bit tipsy as I had managed to avoid the nibbles.
We were among the last to leave, and, although we had carefully avoided the subject of the Presidential Elections, we couldn't help saying farewell to the photograph of Monsieur Chirac on the wall - soon to be replaced.
Photography has never been one of my interests so perhaps that's why I'm no good at it. Add in the computer factor and that's really asking for trouble.
So you can understand my lack of enthusiasm when Bear asked me to help him put all his holiday photos on CD. It's a bit like the blind leading the blind.
Anyway, we spent two and a half hours on Saturday figuring out how to transfer some of the pics onto CDs but it was more by luck than judgement I can tell you.
Today he asked me to show him how to do it as he wanted to do some more. Yikes! It was more a case of guessing and hoping: I couldn't remember a straightforward method as the computer seemed to react in different ways each time.
Sure enough, when I was trying to delete the old ones on the card the computer decided to go its own way and started copying at random. Soon there were 6 copies of some of the photographs. In my attempts to get rid of them I selected 'all' and pressed delete, confident that the pictures were safe on the computer -or, at least, on the card. But they weren't. I had wiped the card completely clean and they hadn't been saved on the computer either.
Ooooooops. How do I break the news to Bear?
After double checking the card, the CD and the computer in the hopes that my worst fears were unjustified I had to admit they were gone. I broke the news to Bear and waited for blast-off.
But it didn't happen. He said he was very cross; he would never be able to replace them; there were some church organs he might never see again; not to mention some trains: - but it wasn't my fault!
