Ding Dong!

Well, I am bloody sick of cloudy ramparts or ice cold clouds ramping down from the North Sea and freezing everything. I mean, my old friend Claude tells me that the Vienne where we hang out, has the second best climate in France after the Cote D'Azur. All I can say is that I would not want to be hanging out much here at the moment - not if I did not want the bugger to freeze solid and drop off the line. It is all to do with volcanoes in Iceland I believe, or some such bloody nonsense; it shouldn't belong to happen here, not in the Spring which is what the French tell me it is here. So what am I making such a fuss about? Well you see the Memsahib and I have bought a neat little house in Normandy and we want to move our goods and chattels up there; thereby hangs a problem - the Vienne does not move - it stays where it is and if you want to shift your insight north of the Loire, well... no one round here can remember such a bloody nonsense since the Black Prince was around here kicking up arse, during the 100 years War. It is just not done. So finding someone to shift stuff is a problem. I mean, I had no problem finding a firm of English shifters to get me and my stuff to France, but finding a French man to shift things the other way, is not just a problem, it is fair nigh bloody impossible. Madame has spent hours on the telephone trying out her French and then explaining to unbelieving French persons where in fact we live and where we wish to move to. The French find it difficult to believe that those who have drawn first prize in the lottery of life by drawing out a billet in the Vienne might actually wish to leave this veritable Eden and go to live in Normandy (I mean, where?) many locals find it hard to believe that such a place can actually exist - "but you will freeze and it rains all the time” - In fact Bridget, who drives a taxi in Normandy, tells me that it only rains twice a year - once in the Summer and once in the Winter. In fact Normandy is very lush and beautiful - rather like Cornwall - and the people are very friendly: Also it has good ferries to England and the family. - 'Ah' people say but 'there is no hunting' That may be true, but we have spent 4 years trying to find good hunting where it is supposed to exist and that has been a complete waste of rations. So I reckon that if we lower our expectations, we might surprise ourselves and find something that does not officially exist, like many other things in France.
After we move I am going to have my other knee done, in London - in English. The French medical system has a high reputation, which has not been borne out by experience in my case - two ops and I am still bloody lame, so bugger it.
I suppose that I should not tell you where we are going - just in case you all turn up, wearing knotted hankies, well ... just bloody don't, or I'll hang you from the church tower - just like poor bloody Steele. Steele was a trooper in the US 82nd Airborne. He was dropped over France after D-Day and landed hanging from the church steeple by his parachute harness... it got worse as: he was dangling in plain sight of the village street and was there viewed by the locals and the Curé. This good man was so over-excited by the sight of an American uniform that he ordered the church bells to be rung, to the great discomfort of Steele, a foot away from the bell loft. To cut things short, Steele was rescued but left his hearing behind. However they did name a local bar after him, which must be some sort of consolation - I will let you know after I have had a drink there - Ding! Dong!