St Marcel
Yesterday we bundled Figgy and Misty into the car and took them, shouting obscenities at us all the way, to the vet.
Yesterday we bundled Figgy and Misty into the car and took them, shouting obscenities at us all the way, to the vet.
They don't know yet that they are going on a little holiday themselves to a very nice cattery some 40 minutes from here, but they were totally unimpressed at the car ride to the vets, not even half the distance.
Once there they settled down in their carriers in the waiting room and not a peep, even when a big Boxer dog wanted to make friends. We were quite surprised when he walked in accompanied by his two mates the cat and the rat, but they seemed to be a happy family.
They went ahead of us and we were joined in the waiting room by a very skinny greyhound instead. Poor things, they always look so terribly undernourished, don't they?
The vet was a very, very nice man and said all the right things about our babies.
'They are very beautiful' Well that's enough to make me his best friend for life anyway but then he said:
'Your French is very good'
I smiled and simpered. That's the second time in three days that someone has said that to me - what a boost to the confidence. Although I've studied French to quite a high level I don't get enough practice what with our non-communicating neighbours and only usually chatting in shops and the post office, and I'm extremely shy about speaking French for some unknown reason.
I didn't make any New Year's resolutions but maybe I should make a mid-January one to get out more, speak to more French people. Basically, just, go for it!
We decided to take a drive out in the afternoon, intending to visit one of the local summer 'hot spots' and see how closed it is in January but on the way it started raining so we just carried on and did a tour of the Northern reaches of the Lot department. The far north east of the region is quite different from here (sorry, no photos since the weather was just appalling), it is green and hilly (very hilly in places) . We followed a gushing river for mile after mile, climbing higher and higher until we came to a huge lake. We really must explore this in the summer, if we can stand the traffic!
On the way home we stopped in a supermarket for some vegetables and a loaf of bread. At the checkouts we were overcome by the smell of ... well, I can't put it any nicer ... stale urine. We looked around to see where it was coming from and at the next till was a lady wearing the most revoltingly dirty anorak. The staff and customers, fortunately there were only a few, were all surreptitiously covering their noses with their hands, scarves or whatever else we could find. The checkout 'hostess' moved from her till as soon as was humanly possible to another part of the shop. When we went back to our car we were amazed to see the malodorous offender clamber into a huge new 4x4 vehicle.
It made me wonder:
1. Why did none of us say anything, either to each other or to the offender?
2. How on earth did she not know how revolting she smelt?
3. Would the manager of Sainsbury's have been called to request, politely of course, that she might leave the store and come back after she had taken a bath and burned the offensive anorak?
4. Does anybody ever speak to her?
5. How come someone with a lovely vehicle (which was very clean, by the way) not care about herself enough to pong so?
Maybe I'm doing the lady an injustice. Maybe she had just that afternoon fallen into a pile of horse pooh and wee-soaked straw. Maybe she has a serious illness where she can't smell anything or see the stains on her coat.
Is it me?
We decided to take a drive out in the afternoon, intending to visit one of the local summer 'hot spots' and see how closed it is in January but on the way it started raining so we just carried on and did a tour of the Northern reaches of the Lot department. The far north east of the region is quite different from here (sorry, no photos since the weather was just appalling), it is green and hilly (very hilly in places) . We followed a gushing river for mile after mile, climbing higher and higher until we came to a huge lake. We really must explore this in the summer, if we can stand the traffic!
On the way home we stopped in a supermarket for some vegetables and a loaf of bread. At the checkouts we were overcome by the smell of ... well, I can't put it any nicer ... stale urine. We looked around to see where it was coming from and at the next till was a lady wearing the most revoltingly dirty anorak. The staff and customers, fortunately there were only a few, were all surreptitiously covering their noses with their hands, scarves or whatever else we could find. The checkout 'hostess' moved from her till as soon as was humanly possible to another part of the shop. When we went back to our car we were amazed to see the malodorous offender clamber into a huge new 4x4 vehicle.
It made me wonder:
1. Why did none of us say anything, either to each other or to the offender?
2. How on earth did she not know how revolting she smelt?
3. Would the manager of Sainsbury's have been called to request, politely of course, that she might leave the store and come back after she had taken a bath and burned the offensive anorak?
4. Does anybody ever speak to her?
5. How come someone with a lovely vehicle (which was very clean, by the way) not care about herself enough to pong so?
Maybe I'm doing the lady an injustice. Maybe she had just that afternoon fallen into a pile of horse pooh and wee-soaked straw. Maybe she has a serious illness where she can't smell anything or see the stains on her coat.
Is it me?
1 comment:
No - it's definitely not you. I'd tell you if you smelt of urine. That's what sisters do!!
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