Roberto's Eff Off Blue Jaguar

Well, mes amis, today we went over the Humber Bridge to Lincolnshire to collect Roberto's new car.  It's not brand new, it's a 1996 Jaguar XK8 and he describes the colour as Eff Off Blue (very good description, actually). 

I had to drive our car home and Roberto had told me to take the first turn off after the petrol station at the roundabout.  Well, he had gone into the petrol station with his new toy to get some juice and the turn off he had mentioned didn't have any signposts for the Humber Bridge so off I went round the roundabout again until I realised that I was right the first time around, even though there were no signposts. So far so good.  I arrive at the Humber Bridge toll booth...I can't reach the man in the booth to give him my money - eeek!! Had to get out of the car and felt like such a lemon.  I hadn't seen any sign of Roberto since he stopped off at the petrol station and I was a bit worried that the new (old) car might have broken down.  Well, I was just toddling along the A63/M62 and this blue flash of lightening (an eff off blue kind of colour) went whooshing past me and arrived home a good ten minutes before I did. 

Roberto is so happy with his new toy.  He has been outside since lunchtime polishing it up and admiring it, revving up the engine etc etc...you know, like you boys do?

So, I have revealed his little secret that he didn't want anyone to know about yet.  He reads these posts and says "what are you writing that for?"  I say to him "Roberto, you don't seriously think that people who read this think that we are real people do you?"

Have a good weekend mes amis.

Roberto's New Toy

Well, my big news is that....Roberto Printemps has just bought a new J....oops, I forgot, he told me not to tell anyone yet!  Will have to reveal that one to you all later, or he might have to kill me.  Anyway, he refused to take me with him to buy his new J...... because I always laugh as soon as he starts negotiating - I just can't help myself.  It's usually the look of horror on the seller's face that makes me laugh. 

Anyway, I will be able to reveal all after the weekend.  I'll just give you a clue.  It's a male mid-life crisis kind of thing. 

Don't tell anyone yet.  This post will self-destruct in 3 seconds!

Squeak to you soon, mes amis

A Little Winter Musing

We've had some snow here in East Yorkshire, maybe about 4 or 5 inches and as usual the newspaper headlines are screaming "Freak Weather Conditions."  Please get a grip, guys in the media (in London), it's not freak weather, it's not global warming - IT'S WINTER!!!

I'm too much of a woos to drive on icy roads, the main reason being that Roberto would be completely devastated if his beloved Jag ended up in the ditch, especially if he'd just washed it.  So I've just been for a walk to our little newsagent's shop and on the way back I saw a woman on our lane with two dalmations.  Well, she was screaming at the top of her voice on them - she would have put a fishwife to shame the way she was hollering.  Then I remembered that dalmations can be deaf.  Either the dogs were deaf or she was!  God, what a noise. 

Roy the builder is missing me, or rather he is missing working in our house.  Roberto and Roy are currently working on a barn conversion and it happens to be a drafty barn oop a hill in the middle of nowhere, with only one neighbour, the man from the Tesco advert.

Roy was completely spoiled rotten when he was working at our house.  I must have made about 20 cups of tea a day, there were always plenty of biccies, ice lollies on the hot August days and home-made soup on the cold November days, and a few toasted tea cakes thrown in for good measure.  I even bought them all cream cakes when it was Roy's 50th birthday.  God, I must have been mad.  No wonder Roy is pining.  Now they have to be content with flasks of tea.  Don't you just hate the taste of flask tea?  It tastes more of the flask than it does of tea.  Luckily Willie the window fitter has been to the barn to fit new windows so it's not so drafty for them working inside. 

Anyway, more musings later, mes amis.

Bon Weekend!

On Having the Call Centre Blues

Do you ever get those annoying phone calls from foreign call centres? You know how it goes..."hello, meesees Printemps, thees ees Chrees from .....unintelligible company name...We are today doing wee leetle survey and would like to ask you some questions.  Anyway, the other day I answered the phone and it was Chrees again.  He said to me "Hello, Meesees Printemps, my colleague has just been speaking to Mr Roberto Printemps..." 

This was Chrees' fatal error.  Apart from the fact that he hadn't even been in the house since 7.30 that morning, my husband, Roberto Printemps, does not do phones.  He does not speak to anyone from call centres, banks, double glazing companies etc etc.  If he does happen to answer the phone and it is Chrees doing a wee little survey, he usually tells Chrees that Roberto Printemps has run away from home and joined the circus (or more likely something ruder with swear words.)

I said "Hold it right there Chrees.  I know for a fact that your colleague DID NOT speak to Mr Roberto Printemps, so don't you dare lie to me and don't ever phone this number again."  I hung up on him, annoyed that he had lied to me.  Well, the next day, our phone rang about 20 times and each time I answered, there was a very loud slam of someone banging the phone down.  I think I might have upset little Chrees.....do I look bothered?

Another time, I actually did agree to do a wee little survey.  The young girl sounded so nice and I felt a bit sorry for her having such a bloody awful job of phoning us poor impatient British people to ask stupid questions.  I answered some of her questions and then the next question was "would you consider donating to such & such a charity?"  I said "no, I wouldn't."  She said "I'll just repeat the question again Meesees Printemps.  Would you consider giving to such and such a charity?"  Again, "no I wouldn't."  She was slightly perturbed because I had given her the "wrong" answer.  Next question "would you consider donating to some dog charity or other?"  Again, "no."  "I will just repeat this question again......hello, hello...are you there Meesees Printemps?"

A Horsey Tale

There are some horsey ladies who ride up and down our lane.  Nothing wrong with that.  The thing is, they all wear these high visibility bright yellow vests  with "Polite Notice, please drive slowly" written on the back.  Now, at first glance, it looks like "Police Notice".  Okay..with me so far?  On their riding hats, they also have this blue and white checked tape.  They actually look like police people on horseback.  Why would you want to look like a police officer unless you are on some kind of power trip, or maybe you are just a bossy old moo and want to frighten people in their cars?  The next time I drive past them, I might just drive fast and see if they chase me. Do you dare me?

One of the horsey ladies once accused poor old Mr Forrester (80) of racing down the lane at break-neck speed in his car and trying to kill her entire family, who were walking down the lane.  Now, I find this very hard to believe because in all the years I have lived in this village, I have only ever seen Mr F driving at about 15 miles an hour.  Mrs Angry even called the police and reported him.  The poor old soul was really shaken up by it all but thankfully she was told to stop wasting police time.  Phew!  I had visions of having to make him a cake with a saw hidden in the middle to take to him in prison so that he could make his escape.
 

.....And another thing, why is it that the horses always want to poo right outside the entrance to our drive? It's just not funny, you know, especially if Roberto has just cleaned his car (it's his pride and joy).  In fact, when he has cleaned his car, he is very reluctant to let me go out in it and likes to keep it in the garage until the rain stops.  I know, girls, it's a man thing!  Funnily enough, I always thought cars were self-cleaning. 

The Inconvenience Store

 The Inconvenience Store is a small supermarket in our village, in which the concept of customer service is completely alien to the majority of staff who work there (including the managers).  They look at you with their dead eyes as if you are an annoyance, forgetting of course that the customers are paying their wages. There are sometimes two ladies serving behind the counter during the day, one who I shall refer to as Mrs Sourpuss because she has a permanent expression on her face as if she was sucking lemons.  When Mrs Sourpuss sees that there is a huge queue, she scowls at the patiently waiting customers and either walks away from the till or pretends she is busy doing something, scrambling around under the till pretending to be looking for something.  "We're busy doing nothing, working the whole day through, trying to find lots of things not to do", as the song goes. 

There is also a lady who shouts at customers if they ask her to make up a sandwich after 2pm.  "Yer too late", She says, glaring at them, as if they've asked her for the contents of her bank account,  "I've cleaned up now". 

Sometimes there's no bread on the shelf in the Inconvenience Store, sometimes no milk or eggs, sometimes the kid behind the counter doesn't know what a leek is, and isn't particularly interested because there's a text coming through on his new iphone.  Sometimes said kid actually answers his phone when he is serving a customer..Grrrrrr!! The customers don't seem to complain but you can hear them sighing and huffing and puffing in the queue.  When there is only one person at the till and a big queue builds up, there is bell under the till that they are supposed to ring for another member of staff to come and serve.  We are waiting, waiting, waiting, the queue is growing and growing, then someone at the back of the queue loses the will to live and shouts out "Ring the effing bell would you Gladys, I want to get served before I die!"

The young kids/students who work in the Inconvenience Store have this glazed expression that descends upon them when, for example, your shopping costs £5.25.  You give them a £10 note and the 25p.  They hold the money in their hands, staring at it with panic in their eyes,  wondering what to do with it because they don't understand what it's all about.  Unbelieveably, these same kids all seem to want to go to university to study Rocket Science.  You just couldn't make it up!

The vegetables in the Inconvenience Store are a sight to behold.  I hesitate to use the word "fresh" as I might be contravening Trading Standards laws.  The carrots are usually covered with blue mouldy bits and I've seen one of the staff members pulling lots of dead leaves off cabbages and putting the tiny wilted cabbages back on the shelf.  The mangoes are always weeping (I know the feeling!) and the cucumbers are always soft and squidgy.  Courgettes?  Don't bother! 

The Inconvenience Store is the only shop in our village, but I no longer go in, unless it's wine o' clock and the wine rack chez nous  is bare,  and I only go in on the evenings when the one and only customer-friendly lady works there. 

Happy shopping, mes amis.

Reasons to be Cheerful - Un, Deux, Trois...

First of all I’d like to wish all my blog followers a Happy and Prosperous New Year.

This morning when I came downstairs, I caught Roy the builder sobbing into his cup of tea. "What the hell’s the matter with you Roy?", Said Roberto, my husband. In between sobs and sniffs, Roy spluttered, "She...she...Wilma won’t let me put up my poster in the living room". It turned out that Roy’s son had given him a life size poster of the girl from the Transformers film (not the alien girl, the other one) for Christmas and he wanted to put it in a prime location in the living room and Wilma was having none of it. "Jesus, Roy", I said, "I thought somebody had died the way you are going on". I have zero patience for 10 year old boy-men. Note to self: buy some darts for Wilma.

Well, things are really looking up in the Printemps household. I am delighted to announce that it is the final week of our building project and there will be no more workmen in our house after Friday - YIPPPPEEEEEEEE!!

Reasons to be Cheerful 1, 2, 3...

• The money I will save on tea bags and biscuits will be enough to finance a Caribbean cruise, including spending money. Ditto our electricity bill from boiling the kettle 20 times a day.
• There will be no more daily trips to B&Q or Screwfix (pulease!) for strange bits of plastic and pipe bits.
• I will not miss Roy the builder arriving at 7.30am, working on the roof and banging on the bathroom window to give me the fright of my life when I am in the shower.
• There will be no more drilling, hammering, radio blaring and Roy and Bob singing duets to Beyonce songs at the top of their voices.
• I will no longer have to look at builders’ pants/bottom cleavages or listen to their stupid 10 year old boy jokes.
• I will be able to look out of my upstairs landing window without someone standing on the roof looking back at me with a goofy grin.
• I will no longer have to listen to Roy’s conversations...with himself.
• I will never have to look at the plasterer’s assistant’s HUGE multi-coloured pants (sorry, pants again).

 　

So, mes amis, this Friday I will mostly be doing cartwheels round the garden.

Update on Previous Post

　

The big black Bentley driven by the mysterious blonde lady was seen going up our quiet country lane again today, closely followed by several elderly neighbours travelling incognito en bicyclettes. Inspector Poirot, eat your heart out!

A bientot.