The French connection

Sam called again yesterday.  Sam works for Consumer something-or-other - I have never caught the second word because I have usually switched into auto-deaf mode by that stage of the phone call.  I know it was the same girl who rang on Thursday as I recognised both the name and the voice.  She called at an inconvenient time again, although any time is inconvenient for calls of that nature, just as I was pouring my lunch-time coffee.  She got rather short shrift from me.

"You called me yesterday.  I didn't want to speak to you then and I don't want to speak to you now.  Goodbye."

I know these people are often youngsters trying to earn a living or working their way through university but that doesn't make the calls any less irritating.

And talking of irritating, there are those tannoy announcements at Asda: "This is a colleague announcement".  Actually, it's only slightly irritating - but why can't they call these "staff announcements"?  Or would that be too reminiscent of the old class system?  Back in the distant past - in the 19th century or so - to be on the staff of a company was better than being a hired hand.  Somebody on "the staff" would have an office job or supervisory role.  Heaven forfend he should ever get his hands dirty!  But "colleague" is better by far than "co-worker".

Another American import I can't stand is Starbucks.  This has nothing whatever to do with the company playing by the rules and therefore paying no Corporation Tax in the UK.  It's just that their coffee is the worst I have ever tasted.  Absolutely foul!  I don't like Costa Coffee or Cafe Nero either but they are marginally better.  There are no two ways about it: the best coffee is to be bought in France.  Sitting at a pavement cafe in the warm sun and sipping un café while watching the world go by!  Heaven!

Talking of France, it's time I got to the theme of the title.  The Old Bat gave up on the French-themed meals yesterday and slipped across the border into Italy.  We had spaghetti Bolognaise.  Followed by chocolate pudding.  Actually, the choc puds provided a very tenuous - even nebulous - French theme.  The French don't do choclate puddings; they don't do puddings full stop.  The nearest they get if moelleux au chocolat,which is basically a chocolate sponge with a runny centre.  We don't have it in England - except that our local Italian restaurant here in Patcham serves it described as chocolate truffle.  But to get back to the matter in hand.  Some years ago we stayed with the cousin of a fellow member of the congregation.  This cousin - Gary - and his wife - Wendy - had moved to France to breed showjumping horses.  To earn a few francs, they offered bed and breakfast, along with an optional evening meal.  We always opted for the meal as Wendy is a superb cook.  Wendy also had a market stall in several towns where she sold chocolate puddings to an increasingly regular clientele.  As I said, a very tenuous French connection.

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That's better!  The view from the bedroom this morning:

But just to the left (or east):