Posted by on May 1, 2007

Mr Shipman did not take a hand in this!!

Last week Hudson, our beloved, but certainly scatterbrained, spaniel decided to take himself off the estate and seek out an amount extraordinaire of rat poison. Having gobbled up as much he thought his tummy could take he then felt distinctly poorly.

Shipman immediately came into his own and decided that his only slim chance of survival was an emergency trip to the French veterinary clinic. Several nights stay, blood transfusion from the vets own dog, copious amounts of pills, a one in a million chance of survival and a lot of praying. Against all the odds this spaniel survived.

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Talking of mad dogs we were invited for lunch with the neighbours last Sunday. Lovely couple, but own the rottveiller look-alike that goes for the kill every time I pick up our post.

I made a Pavlova for the dessert, we arrive at the eight foot metal gates (built for a definite reason), Jaws, awakes from his early morning siesta, and is looking for some sport before lunch. He takes note of the two meals standing behind the gates, starts to accelerate towards us, JS stands behind me reassuring me that the gates are closed, my Pavlova starts to shake uncontrollably, then the bloody gates open automatically.

Horace takes a gigantic leap towards my Pavlova “just drop it Nessie and run for your life”

She did cook a nice lunch though!

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Tash went to Paris for 4 days with the college to visit the art museums and all the tourist “educational!!” sights. The highlight was the gorgeous looking science teacher accompanying the trip and the lowest point was when all mobile phones were confiscated after 10pm!

Easily sorted said Tash, I took two with me and gave the teacher the broken one at night and we all used the working one!

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Terrible weather here at the moment, unlike you lot basking in the sun. We played golf yesterday, and when we were furthest away from the clubhouse, typically, the mother of all electric storms erupts.

Furiously pushing our metal trollies, holding our metal golfclubs, and wearing metal studs on my shoes, I am passed by, what can only be described as a golf buggy stampede. they appeared from every corner of the course, driven at top speed by ashen faced French golfers, heading in a blind panic across bunkers, through trees, across the greens.

It was like the St Endreol grand prix, first to the safety of the clubhouse gets a free pair of rubber shoes!

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The other night, at about 3am, JS’s mobile phone rings. Always a worrying time, however, John ventured down to the kitchen to check who was calling, and announced that it was a reminder to tell us it was my Dads birthday today!

JS said, “Doesn’t he know what time it is down here!”

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Poetic justice. The French Commissioner for the Camaroons, the very same gentleman/neighbour who complained about our pool house, 4 years ago, apparently went to see the same architect in Figanieres who has been struggling with all the paper work to legalize the planning permission for the pool house.

Monsieur Cameroon’s wanted the architect to design an EXTENSION onto the side of his house!

The architect politely pointed out that it could prove a difficult request, since he was still trying to deal with his last complaint about the Speers pool house.

Whereupon he suggested he try with the mayor, and see if he gets a better response. whereupon, the architect rings me, explains what is happening, I ring Chantal, who then speaks to the Mayor, who then tells our neighbour that the possibility of getting planning permission for an extension so close to the Speers is as highly unlikely as Penn becoming president!

Did you get all that?

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Gilly has bought a house in Figanieres.It has wonderful views across the village, a south facing garden, and I am panicking because she will no longer have time to assist the Speers with all their diy once she has moved in and stated her own diy!!

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I plucked up enough courage to test a French gynaecologist’s expertise recently.

No problems just the usual check-up etc. Charming man, but not a patch on my Mr Jordan. However after I give him a full medical history, (that didn’t take long), he asks me to go behind the screen for the dreaded other bit, when his computer explodes!

There’s smoke, a smell of burning and a lot of swearing (it must have been my medical history that did it.) He storms out of the room, gives his secretary a mouthful, bangs his fists on the desk, and then says, ”Right Madame Speer, are we ready?”

I told him I had an urgent meeting to attend to, and left there and then.

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I went on a cordon bleu course recently in London, only spent a day learning how to cook (but the French don’t know this!), we all received a certificate, cordon bleu apron and a kiss from Chef Louis. Naturally the certicate is in a prominent place in the kitchen for all FRENCH guests to look up to, be threatened by, and admire.

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Latest rumours in the Var.the men are in love with Segolene Royal, but don’t want her as president, the French ladies look upon her as “the other woman!” And Nicolas Sarcozy looks particularly dodgy but does have some brain, but is a better bet than a WOMAN running their country!

All my Love OLIF xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

PS: It’s still raining!!!

Jody. Congratulations on the safe birth, and look after your six little ones carefully.
Mummy. I am looking up on the internet voluntary, jobs for the over 85’s there aren’t that many, but the dustbin men are a bit short of weekly drivers if your interested.
Tess. Have you cured anyone yet at the hospital, or will it take a little longer. Hope they don’t get you on a day when the hormones are high!
Pip and June. All my geraniums are water logged, what do I do now!!
Les. How are you? I’ve missed your birthday again! But mines November 9th, so you’ve still got time!!! xxxxxx

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