Driving

The best way to describe driving in France I have mused over this, but the only way is to accept that the French have the mindset of being first! Yes no matter, how old, the driver, the car, No matter what size, the driver, the car the lorry the bus, the French driver has to be first. No matter where they are, driveway, footpath, supermarke, doctors, hospital and anywhere else Madame et Monsieur will ensure their right to be first.

Couple this with one of the most confusing set of roadsigns and road rules which try to combine the 21st century with the 10th Century, it all makes for a very dangerous time for the unsuspecting.

My favourite road rule is the one where you are supposed to giveway to traffic coming from the right. Except where the signs dictate otherwise, normal broken white lines. But the one to really watch for is the yellow triangle with or without a black line through it. With a black line it means traffic from the right has priority and they will appear on all manner of roads and on some main roads. So the next time you see a car zooming up from your right don't just presume it is going to stop because if they have priority then they will take it.
We were once near the N10 in Mansle and a car came across us at a marked junction which was driven by Grandfather Times Uncle and they have not updated themselves !

And lets not forget that there is a sizeable proportion of the driving population who are drunk.

And if you saw our former English neighbour who wasn't a sizeable proportion but just a raving drunk then you would also exercise due caution around your former Country folk, some of whom view drink driving as a way of life in France.

When I was a Police Officer and someone was disqualified from driving it meant exactly that, the person was banned from driving. Not here! they allow them to drive a very small box with a 950cc engine within a certain radious of their homes, because there is no public transport in France. So when you are motoring along with the latest nutcase trying to get as close as possible, its not Agricultural vehicles that you are most likely to encounter. Its a little metalic box churning out blue smoke as the overwieght occupants who have been crammed into it, try and achieve 20 kms.. They also have the annoying ability to hog the centre white lines and have lights which would take an Owl to detect because they are so dim. Then couple that with the car about 5 or 6 vehicles back who has no idea of whats going on attempts an overtake in the face of oncoming traffic.



We were once travelling in a thunderstorm and for those who have not experienced the 'orage'

its Biblical and dumps a mind boggling amount of water in very short time. Usually accompanied by lightening, high winds and the wipers can't clear the screen.

We were on the N10 near Angouleme and every sort of vehicle was speeding by into the unknown the nil visibility being hampered further by the water being thrown up by lorries and the vehicle in front. I was glad to get of that road.

On another occasion I had a HGV tight up behind us on a back road near Cognac it was an accident waiting to happen. I saw an open piece of land to my right and with the same precision as an aircraft landing on the deck of the ship I turned onto it, without slowing down and came to a halt. Thus allowing the 45 tonnes beast to move onto the next victim, I've seen what HGV's do to cars and I've no desire to give it a go!



'vous n'avez pas priorite' is a sign on roundabouts, it is meaningless or should be treated as such. The code securite outlines the correct procedure for roundabouts and unlike the highway code you are liable for a fine if you fail to give the correct signal. I've seen the Gendarmes who roam in packs swooping on roundabouts for this very purpose.

On one or two occasions I've had people trying to pass on the inside as I was crossing, I don't travel fast. My dogs and wife don't appreciate a roller coaster ride.

La Toilette

La Toilette, the toilet!

Not a subject which I gave a great deal of thought about when we scanned our newly renovated property. The new fittings, the new loo all looked 21st Century. After all going to the toilet in the UK is a presumed Human Right and one can go through life without giving the Poe a second thought. (apart from our former neighbour who had a rather smelly time cutting out the roots of some exotic tree from his sewer ).

See I remember on that school holiday that everyone has in France going to the public loo which was a hole in the ground surrounded by some cast iron trellising. And after being reassured by the teacher that it was a toilet peering down the endless hole in amazement.

If you come to France do not be surprised to be followed into the place that most Brits view as a gender sanctuary by a member of the opposite sex. Also be prepared for some pretty unusual pieces of ceramic equipment. For the less agile I would not be tempted to use public toilets in old villages. The bum shaped ceramic is below feet level and further physical restrictions for the over 45's include them being semi partitioned off. Which in reality means:

1. dropping ones clothing,while facing said item

2. lowering the clothing to almost ground level ( not all the way the floors can be awful and you will be somewhat uncomfortable and a bit smelly if you fail this part)

3. shuffle round while still standing, this again is a hygiene issue

4. reverse until you are about 6 inches from the ceramic area. Do not try and hover over the hole in an attempt to limit the effect of your bodily needs!

5. Slowly supporting yourself with the free hand slowly squat to the ground ( it will be at this point you will hear strange voices making their way towards you from outside! Be warned not all toilets have doors and some have twin stable doors)

5(a) once you've been here a while you will learn to ignore the presence of a completer stranger only a matter of a few inches away from you.

6. This should have been number 1 take your own toilet paper with you!

7. Once you have done the deed make sure you don't loose control of your grip on your Sunday best!

8. Secure clothing, wash hands.

9. Compose yourself resist the desire to leave like you've just committed your first Post Office Robbery!

Some more top tips...................
Do not use the toilets at the various Brocantes unless you want to expose yourself to the Plague and you should view the sausage seller at the Bar b cue with suspicion.

Public loos in towns are generally a nightmare. Covered in Graffiti one doesn't need a degree in French to translate. The floors are water logged and there is no privacy. The French will continue to use a public loo even though it may be obstructed.

Well no more about their Public loos


But back to France, what lurks below is just as important as whats on show above!

Apart from the numerous regulations which cover the cleaning out and requirements before sale of a fosse septique. "Whats a fosse Septique" well this is a biodegradable system that filters 'waste' through a series of tanks and pipes and eventually filters out underground somewhere in your garden. Yes you effluent ends up in the garden. The system has air vents around the hows to feed the microbes that are working to degrade the 'matter' into a liquid form before it spills over into another tank and then off it goes. In actual fact its gone off long before!

Now if Chez Vous has a Fosse Septique then you need to enquire further and if doesn't have one you need to enquire further! Not every house has a sewerage system. I was told the story of someone who went and bought a thoroughly modern house with everything new and gleaming. But the buyer failed to check the system and only discovered afterwards that it emptied straight out into the courtyard of the property next door. Apart from the embarrassment to you and your new French neighbours there is a cost implication here because the siting and permission to place a sewerage system is heavily regulated. And yes it shouldn't have got passed the various authorities but it did and in France 'buyer beware' applies.

A Fosse system has to be certified and do not be tempted to buy one without a certificate, it is your responsibility to bring the system up to scratch if you buy the property. Immobiliers ( estate agents) generally will whizz passed the loo on a visit and when I posed the question I was told 'its not a problem' Ummmmm?


It has to be a certain size for the occupants per head in ratio with the number of rooms and there is a minimum tank size. So if you buy a small house then invite the tribe over it could put your system to the test! I know this for a fact. Our next door neighbour had a new tank put in, prior to us buying our home, and every time his extended family popped up from Spain the air round our house took on a rather unpleasant pungent smell. So that's another tip where does the neighbours fosse track?

To reduce the odours escaping from your own system there are Carbon filters, we used to try an arrange viewings when it was quiet, rainy windy days were good, not only could you convince buyers that your roof was in good fettle, the chances of a gas attack were further reduced.
We spent a small fortune on sweet smelling powders to freshen our system but again if your neighbours are less than hygienic as were our Anglaise on the others side. The wine swilling lumps disgorged their waste anywhere.

It can be an adventure maintaining the system which need regular input of activation powders to help those little microbes do their work. The general tip is if you can eat it don't put it down the loo. Also do not be tempted to use yards of paper break it up into the individual sheets and use French Paper! It is designed for their toilets.

I was showing a couple round the house one day, in an effort to sell, and in our quaint natural stone dining room I could see over in one corner that water, moisture, wet was rising up in a straight line and I knew this was the waste pipe! However, my guests had not spotted this new water feature, mainly because have you noticed that when people view houses they mainly look up? I spent a very uncomfortable time shuffling them around away from the problem, they must have thought I was very strange as I tried to disguise my alarm and snatching the odd look at the rising water! The viewing speeded up as I shuffled them on and out, they didn't buy it!
But on closer inspection of the system I found dried out toilet paper had blocked it up and it had been blocked for a very long time. Disgusting!

Bear in mind that the water based system was not designed for the modern 'white' goods so put down the activation powders more frequently. I learnt a lot of my French from 'Mr Muscle' in the 'Rayons' of Auchan once I had located the merchandise I discovered a whole library of produits. (While my wife wandered around pursuing Frances only real hobby for the English, shopping) I studied the backs of bottles and boxes for the best concoctions.

Now when we sold I convinced myself that we would have a 'tout le gout' (mains drainage) in our new house, as well as having a heating system that was not dependant on wood!

I viewed the prospect of a modern sewerage system with affection and when I was told that our new home was 'tout le gout' I was almost overwhelmed, right price and a functioning toilet. No more strange mutant creatures coming out of my plug hole anymore, oh yes that's another downside to a fosse big black leggy insects love them and occasionally want to share your shower with you! I nearly died when I first sighted a frothy topped thing displacing our drain filter!
There we were in the Notaires listening to him read out the terms and conditions on the final stage of our new purchase. He announced that the house should be connected to the mains but they just couldn't find it. Now this set momentary alarm bells going but what could I do we would be homeless. Reassured by the sight of the former owner unscrewing the cover to the sewerage tank pointing out the float for the pump. He told me that it occasionally became stuck and in that event the sewerage would spill out. But he tapped it and the brown sludge disappeared.

However, one sunny day after purchase I saw the waters rising and I went to tap the arm of the pump which did not work! What was I to do? I had no idea how it work and it was Friday afternoon and a couple of calls revealed the unwillingness of the French to come to our aide at that time of day 'semaine prochaine' That was totally unacceptable we couldn't hold onto our bodily functions for a week!


I managed to get our French neighbour to understand and she had a cousin who is a plumber and he arrived. Looking at the submerged pump he advised me that I had to empty the tank before he would attempt any repair. So armed with an old sauce pan and several plastic containers I emptied the contents of the tank. Now common sense would say there was nothing wrong with emptying the contents directly into the sewer. Well there is and one can be fined. Now when I say the sewer. I found out why the Notaire told us that they couldn't find it. Our house is surrounded by a huge row of leylandi trees overgrown and brought about cries of protest from our supposed deaf vendor when I asked for it to be cut back as a condition of sale. Not an unreasonable request when one considers that they did Gardening as living, well his wife did, he watched television for a living!

I made lots of new acquaintances hacking that hedge down to size large chucks of it bouncing into the road. And little French ladies risking death and injury by walking underneath on the footpath ,which had been concealed for decades by the advancing foliage, were now like adventurers staking their claim to this 'chemin' and muttering things as branches brushed by. That wasn't the only risk they faced the other was the mountain of dog poo left by our canine friends who were not so restricted by the hedge. Barracked by the local claiming I'd killed the hedge and should seek the advice of an Artisan at the local Garden centre before hacking on any further. I had to ignore him after his umpteenth visit to make me aware of my folly in chopping too much off.
I much amused when at a public meeting about a new sewerage pipe for the road he was hissed at by some local women because he talked all the way through the presentation.
Later the local Marie (Mayor) magazine announced that the completed work made the road one of the best, however within 3 months the whole works have subsided along its kilometer length bringing out groups of very concerned people in hard hats and yellow coats, who point a lot.

Back to the access drain we, hacked our way to it and discovered a similar sight to that which must have greeted our former neighbours in the UK! Our hedge was pot bound.

Our little French plumber prodded and poked at it releasing a fluid which had the consistency of a drunk bring back a pizza on a boozy night. Shake of the head and off he wandered.
He arranged for a lorry to come the following Monday and it duly arrived and after an initial fear that the high pressure hose was too big for the hole he commenced the cleaning. Gurgling and making loud burping type noises the system was clear and 154 Euros later I discovered that the pump was knackered mainly because of the lack of maintenance and the effects of the calcium.
I wandered round to order a new pump and the gum chewing assistant paged through the magazine but we failed to identify the replacement and decided that I should bring the item round. Into the tank I went following the method employed by the Cousin and removed it, washed it off and concealed it in a plastic back and commenced the trek back to the Bricolage which is just far enough away to make it a long walk but too close to take the car out. These things weigh a bit and by the time I reached the shop the handles on the bag had stretched to their limit! The shop was also, to my dismay, very busy. Waiting my turn the gum chewing assistant with the blank uncaring look that only the French can achieve, wandered round and I opened the bag partially revealing the pump as if it were some form of contraband, totally unfazed she ripped open the bag like it was some long anticipated present. It stood dripping in the centre of the floor as she once again return to the magazine. Writing down the price, because she had given up on my limited language skills. ( I've never come across the phrase 'how do I replace the sewerage pump' in any of the stuff I've bought) So aware that it was going to be 'semaine prochaine' before the new one arrived, I did the return trek with the pump, which I managed to get working to a fashion, the technique being to smack it on the top every morning before the tank became overfull!

So when you buy a French House you really need to do some serious investigation to the existing system and legal requirements because as I've said before 'buyer beware'

I also suspect that all French Toilets are seconds because the holes which are supposed to accommodate the bolts for the seat never quite align properly. And beaware of the cheapest seats because as one is grappling at eye level to the rim of it just at the point where ones overstretched fingers are gaining enough purchase to secure the seat the plastic bolt or its nut will break. Thereby rendering it useless! Substitute bolts just don't seem to work and the temporary arrangement leaves one open to toboggoning of it with seat attached to one's backside at 3am in the morning. In other cases the seat sticks to the backside after a succesful mission and slams back down causing a near heart attack. I've seen loads of seatless toilets in France and I now know why!

And taps there are all manner of taps, conevential, unconventional, where one has to wave at it and unless you have the speed of a rattle snake you will miss the opportunity to wet your hands.
Rods, buttons autmatic heat controls no two public sinks are the same! and then of cause there's the straight forward vandalised ones.

Water, Water everywhere.

When we went to France the last thing on our mind was water, I actually thought it would be in short supply. And in anticipation of this I invested in Mosquito netting and set about constructing the frames. I wasn't even suspicious when the girl at Bricolage virtually had to empty the stock room out into the road to discover the overpriced netting. I could have had a pair of silk curtains made for the same price. Plus I ignored her obvious confused look as being a problem with my poor French skills. However, in retrospect I now realise that there wasn't one house on our route from home to shop that had net screens!


However, I was prevented from making the screens because it wouldn't stop raining and raining and raining. The region known 'micro climate' and this means that an 'orage' can whip up at any moment. Mini tornado's that erupt backed up by tons of water being dumped in minutes and they are a regular occurrence.

Earlier when the weather was improving we made our way to Geant and the sales 'soldes'. 'Soldes' in France are really good, they are regulated by the Government and can only occur at fixed times of the year ( that would put a stop to the endless sofa adverts in the Uk!). However, still in the frame of mind that we would soon be frazzled we bought a sun screen awning for the front of our natural stone Charentese house.

The equipment was about 20ft in length and secured to the building by brackets and the the framework was hollow metal. With great effort and a balancing act that would have entertained circus audiences we wobbled the fragile frame up to the wall. One had to construct the whole frame and levitate it up to the wall and it was at this point I realised that the frame was fragile and bent at the first hint of misalignment! But we did it with seconds to spare I secured the bracket as my wife resisted the pull of gravity which would consigned her to a metallic fate if it had won. Secured on went the canvass which was secured by ties and rolled up when not under constant observation.
Even then I realised that the weather could inflict untold damage if the canvass was not withdrawn when there was anything like a breeze. It used to inflated and rattled and bang.

One night we returned in the teeth of an Orage which had erupted and I could see that tonnes of water were trapped in the canvass and the whole frame was buckling and the wind which was getting stronger was sending mini tidal waves along the length. Desperately I tried to release the canvass straps to allow the water to escape but the water had pressurised the knot which gave way reluctantly. Just at the potential point of success the tornado struck and literally within seconds the whole structure was picked up and screwed up into a piece of discarded paper and thrown back to the ground. With me underneath it! The debris had blocked our door so I made my way to the second door. The screen now looked like a crashed first world war mono plane.
Wet through and bleeding from a minor head wound I stood at the door beckoning my stunned wife to let me in, I must have looked like one of those people you see on Thrillers where the maniac strolls up to the unsuspecting future victims. !

Then later on some other French expats told us that they had suffered a similar fate when their Gazebo had taken off, no mention of this when we bought the thing though!

After we moved to the Charente Maritime I resurrected the large umbrella contraption which I had bought as a substitute shade after the calamitous experience of the house bracket. This was a very impressive thing with the calibre of a missile it had four feet like the base of a missile launch pad, these had to be pinned into the ground. As we found out it was also necessary to roll back breaking pieces of rock across the garden to prevent its departure despite the rolling head which was supposed to ease the risk of take off. And these problems always arose when eating and drinking and a bit tipsy which made further preventive action difficult as other people intervened in similar states to assist.

Having learnt from previous events I drilled holes and secured the base with impressive bolts but Mother nature is a tough bird and on more than one occasion I thought the patio was going to break, but it didn't the bolts gave way and it fell over!

This results in another disaster the instant reminder from my nearest and dearest that I nearly killed our dog with a previous DIY calamity! And shouldn't I learn and ask an expert!

Undeterred by the scorn I set about securing the base with bolts and left over brackets from our newly fitted kitchen ( newly fitted by someone else) I bolted the bracket to the ground. Swinging my excess weight on it 'no movement' Then in with the Umbrella and normality was established.
After a few weeks I even received public praise from my wife and all was well.

Then one day we had just popped out to the shop and failing to follow my normal routine I left the umbrella up. Upon our return we were greeted by the sight of the umbrella which was bent in two and the pole looked like a broken limb. It had bent in the middle, the base was fine but the stress on the pole had been too much!

I will never buy anything like that again!