Quite pleased, really

...... thrilled, in fact

On Monday, after going to the dentist, I had a “conversation” with someone called Veronique at the Alliance Francaise to decide whether I might actually be deemed a suitable person to approach a French language course. I simply could not get on with Duolingo and those sort of pop up cartoon characters - very irritating. Not to mention dull conversational gambits. Anyway, I am now sure Veronique will be rigorously correct and properly French about use of language. As only the French can be ….. I have a “holiday reading list” and start in September. There will be an exam.

And for some reason this is the first thing (apart from the emergence of nasturtium and calendula seedlings - VERY thrilling) to fill me with thrill for many years. Thrill has been sadly lacking, because of DUTY and attendant tiredness, and recently (DUTY done) my brain is recovering, and has woken up and has been sulking it is soooooo boooooored. “I’m bored” it says. “I’m really, really bored”, and “no, I don’t want to go for a walk, I’m bored” “I can’t find anything to read, I’m soooo bored.” See, that is the state of play at the moment. If I was my parent I would be very fed up of me.

Adam Phillips wrote a book about Boredom Being A Good Thing. I remember reading it years ago ….. boring. Sorry, but I do recall being a bit bored by it.

Usefully, My Friend In France rang yesterday and said she would, when my nerve was steadier, have French Conversation with me on WhatsApp. There is a tentative plan for a visit at the end of September(ish) (lovely fruit and veg ..) and I do think it would be rude to only speak English, and what if I wanted to go into a Farmacie and buy things with propolis in them or arthritis relief remedies (thumb is playing up)? Or discuss Racine, for example ….. most unlikely.

Before work I shall pop into the White Horse Bookshop and see if they have a French grammar and vocabulary book for beginners. Then I shall look up the French for Thumb. Fingers I can do. Doigts. There!

This is E-1027, the house that Eileen Gray built.

And all this happened because my sister mentioned that she had been to something at the Institute Francaise in London and I was so jealous I looked it up and there, there was a film about Eileen Gray and her HOUSE on the cliff above the Med (in full on sparkle, sparkle mode) at Roquebrune and I thought “that is NOT boring”. And “I shall do something about my French and then periodically I shall visit and I will understand what people are saying and that will be a lovely thing to do.” I can hop on a train (well, two trains) and look at the light, and eat the food, and understand what people are saying ….. which has been a hindrance. And then I shall come home and be nice - because I’ve been away and the weather might be better.

On a negative thrill theme, we have new technology programme things at work, and whilst some people say they know how it works, there are ISSUES. No one says PROBLEMS these days. However, in my view it is a PROBLEM if they can’t get the pay right. On the one hand I might owe them money, but on the other, they might owe me money, and guess what? The possible amount of money I MIGHT owe them, is considerably greater than the possible amount of money they MIGHT owe me. I sent a parent-like email suggesting training might be a good idea. I shall probably get the heave ho and have to leave the country. But I shall have proper French up my sleeve.

Whilst I was independently trying to work out how these programmes operated (faint but pursuing), and why they might be useful, I read the blurby blurb about how wonderful, fabulous, gorgeous …. and effective it all was and how it would transform and unify all information and liberate this from that, and I came across the proud announcement that the NHS was using it. At which point I gave up entirely, and thought “well, that explains everything about the NHS, they are relying on yet another system that no one knows how to work” and “that is probably why there are absolutely no notes about anything at all on my NHS App, which the surgery insisted I had as it would solve all information ISSUES.” Which it clearly hasn’t. My notes are a free and open space ….. a blank, in fact. Liberated from information.

To the extent that it was simpler for someone from the hospital to TELEPHONE me on my LANDLINE, on a Sunday at 5pm when I had just got back from work and was negotiating camembert on an oatcake (speechless really), to tell me in a rapid and incomprehensible accent that all was OK. Definitely not French. As I wasn’t expecting this form of communication I had to inhale the snack, and ask for a slowdown version. She was the very nice nurse who had waved the photo of my insides at me as evidence that something had happened, but I was so groggy I didn’t take in the significance of what she thought she was indicating.

Anyway, all is WELL, and I have vowed to avoid anything medical unless it ups and actually bites me. Which this had, so I do have some common sense, but the DRAMA - so exhausting. The WAITING ….. aaaagh. So GOOD, it is done. I shall paint my nails and get on with life.

What with this and that, and boredom, I have booked myself a micro break in Devon, on the River Dart, so I can potter about and have separate lunches with cousins, so no one has to change sheets and do laundry. And this morning at 6am a long chat with a friend about sheep and grass and how odd it was that we BOTH on Saturday went to our Butchers and said “Lentils aren’t cutting it, I need STEAK”. And how we felt much stronger after the steak and new potatoes and salad. We are going to fix a date for more sheep chat and a visit from me to her, because she has sheep and I don’t - so I am more mobile. Lovely Herefordshire, so that won’t be boring. I shall take steak as a present. Better than chocs.

Another long chat about a cross (as in sulking badly) scented pelargonium with my sister. It is a hunched and strangled looking thing and I can’t work out what it is - it is not Pelargonium crispum. I only mention this because for some reason I find it very difficult to pronounce “crispum” without “lithsping” and now I can’t stop trying to pronounce it and this is causing hilarity for the owner of the PLANT. She has just tried to send me a WhatsApp text in a lithspy way, but autocorrect has been very strict and won’t let her. Now we are both hysterical.

It occurs to me that I really shouldn’t be bored because I do a LOT of chatting about very unimportant things, and anything to do with any politician is fingers in ears and eyes shut and “la la la laaaaa”. My dentist said, having inspected the scar on my chin, that I must keep exercising the muscles for flexibility purposes …… and looked at me firmly when I asked “does talking count?” and said “well, if you do a lot of it …..”. So that is OK.

Enough of this frivolity, I must get dressed and have breakfast and it’s not raining, which is a change, although we DID NEED THE RAIN. So English ….. but can we have some warmth please?

Here is that rude thing, no ps and qs which I think could be better said, so imagine this “Please, if you wish, I would love it…”:

See, just RUDE I think. Bossy.

AND if you want to you might press the heart thing below - as it is useful - apparently - but as we can see my grip on technology is reducing rapidly - and I don’t understand this.

PS a friend has sent me a video of the castle at Grimaud and it has warm weather sounds …..