French flashers

Now, there is one thing I absolutely love about the French. Without reservation. It is something that sets them apart from the rest of the world.

Can you guess what it is? Yes, I know...where to start? The French are over-burdened with top traits...I'd be the first to admit this.

Well...I just LOVE the way they religiously flash their headlights at oncoming drivers to warn of Gendarmes up ahead with speed guns. Twice in the past few days I have been saved from getting a ticket by benevolent drivers coming in the opposite direction, flashing their lights at me with great enthusiasm. It seems to be a matter of honour.

Before you all get on my case, I pretty much always stick to the speed limit, but the boys in tight-blue have recently taken to secreting themselves behind the plane trees on a stretch of road that is just within the confines of the town signpost...but really it is so remote and quiet, everyone has their foot down a little heavier. I suppose I should thank my lucky stars the Flics have time to dedicate to slightly speeding drivers. We don't get a lot of murders around here. The only stuff that gets nicked are tools. The crime of last year in our commune was Thierry's chainsaw getting half-inched. Oh, and the mysterious disappearance of Dolores the donkey. But, she turned up again, looking a lot fitter and happier two months later. Wherever she went, she was obviously getting her oats.

Summer hols mean summer guests mean cleaning frenzies mean migraines mean collapsing in an alocholic haze/heap.

To my mind there are three types of guest. There are good mates, where all the preparation involved is the chilling of the wine and the location of the corkscrew.

There are those guests you have to clean for (mother in law, various maiden aunts, some of Spouse's glamorous acquaintances, anyone who works in environmental health) and there are guests you don't really know, who are sort of ligging their way into your house via some dubious link with someone you once met somewhere, but can't actually remember their name now...but don't want to let on, for fear of offending anyone.

Tomorrow we are expecting just such a visit. I'm not sure who they are. They only eat macro-biotic...so I'm really praying they don't want to stay for any longer than an hour or so, as I might have to offer them food. And I don't think I have anything macro-biotic in the house. What is macro-biotic? Is it food that is rotting already? It sounds highly inedible to me. I have plenty of micro-bionic in the fridge, but people are so fussy about what they shovel down these days.

Do you know who my favourite guests are? The ones who turn up and yell 'Get in the car! We're taking you out for dinner!'