Wednesday 7th May

Today is the, “Fête des Fleurs” in Bonsoleil. A big occasion. I have no interest in flowers or gardening but at their stage in life – early retirement – my parents have begun to become more and more involved. Mum made a list of the plants she wanted weeks ago. We set off mid-morning, so as not to be beaten by the, “mad rush.” Mum forgot her list and flowers were quite expensive so we settled for a courgette plant, a pepper plant and a tomato plant. If they grow, they are always a bonus – and very cheap.

We came across the English lady who gave me a lift home in the rain the other day and I was very surprised at her manner. Accompanied by her parents – presumably over from England – she was nothing like the friendly, kind and helpful woman that I had met that rainy day in Turat. Her parents seemed friendly enough but she made numerous digs even in the short space of time that our paths crossed. On our information that I had succeeded in getting the car going the next day, she said, “I told you it wasn't the battery, didn't I! At the time, I was thinking, why has he got jump leads when his starter's gone? It wasn't the battery!”

Well, I'm damned if it wasn't! And there is not a thing wrong with my starter, thank you very much. I said nothing to her, as I had been extremely grateful of her assistance in getting me home but what a stupid woman. I was confused and rather irritated at her. Mum said she reckoned she had had a telling off by her husband on her return that afternoon. In that case, what a stupid man he is too!

Tuesday 29th April

I was finally given my, “planning” today – obviously an English-borrowed word that the French somehow take to mean your, “working hours” or “timetable,” but no contract. I am convinced they are going to sack me. My hours are for this week – thirty-nine hours, although France is supposed to be subject to a thirty-five hour week. Still, I really cannot complain about the hours because they work like this:

09:00 start, which means 09:10, or if Bernard is not there, 09:30. Lunch is 12:30 – 13:30, which means knocking off at 12:00 and wandering back at between 13:45 and 14:00. The days ends invariably at 17:30, although my, “planning” shows some days ending at 18:00. Variations come in the form of a 09:30 start, which in actuality means 09:45.

The workload follows a similar pattern. If no groups are booked then we sell individual tickets. The morning sees one tour at 10:30 and the afternoon, one tour at 14:30. The wages are poor but tips can supplement well.

I have noticed Bernard's manipulation of this. He makes some long-winded tale to tourists of how he has been run off his feet all day and that he cannot possibly do another tour. Then, “just to please you and not refuse your desire to see the chapels,” he takes a little group on a “mini-tour.” He then proceeds to occupy them for thirty minutes or more, without imposing a ticket on them. They are so grateful that they thank him heartily and give him a little, “pourboire,” which can add up to a hefty sum.

I find it amusing because he can take ten people on these, “tours” without charge but he pockets the tips. For the same work he could charge them, but, “cut” two tickets - or more - off the top for himself, thus giving himself the same pocket-money, while still putting something in the till. However, clearly that would be dishonest and outright theft, whereas what he is doing is from the goodness of his own heart!

Monday 28th April

I woke up at 06:45, had breakfast, connected the battery and it worked.

It was a dull day at work. I had soon had enough of following Bernard's tours so I sat at the desk, bored silly. I wonder what we do when it rains as the desk is in the open air with no cover.

I was home by six and Mum and Dad and the dogs were already back.

All had not gone well at the trials. Dad had underestimated the standard and we came last and second to last but Dad was happy with what they had done.

Their week-end had been eventful as well though. First, Mum had trapped a nerve in her arm so had been unable to work Mi-mi. Then Dad had a run-in with a Belgian judge.

The dog trials are commonly regarded as corrupt so dodgy judges are not uncommon. Dad could accept receiving poor marks but could not accept the judge ordering him to call his dog back once she had actually found and was on the dummy. The reasons being that the dog has worked hard so you cannot and must not deprive her of her reward and success – i.e. in retrieving it. Anyway, the second time that the judge repeated the action, Dad fairly lost his temper, flew into a rage, taught the Belgian some foul English language and then hurled a soaking, wet, muddy dummy at him. He caught it full on the chin. However, the most telling thing is that Dad received no sanction for his actions. There was a lot of bad feeling towards the judge.

We watched some rugby recorded from the week-end and had steak-frites.

Sunday 27th April

I broke the coffee jar this morning. I am sure that I'm cursed this week-end.

I did weights and gave Ben some retrieves. He was a bit dozy and I apologised for having to go out again in the afternoon.

Wonder of wonders – the car started! I battered my hands a bit first on the starter handle, even though I wore my weight-training gloves but just as I'd given up hope, I tried the key and it kicked into life. I bungled the bike into the back and roared home.

I left the car running in the drive but it then cut out. I tried the key and the battery was again dead, so I put it to charge.

I watched the rugby, gave Ben some retrieves and had Spanish-style pork (my own little recipe). I later tried the battery in the car. It worked so I gave it another couple of hours charging before bed.

Saturday 26th April

What a start to the week-end! I was supposed to be relaxing. I woke up this morning and had breakfast, read a bit and then checked the news on teletext. I then did my weight-training and got ready to go into town.

I wanted a few things – there was some cheap steak advertised in the supermarket – and I had needed to go to the bank as I had a letter in the post informing me that my cheque book could be picked up in eight days time from my home branch in Ensors. I had only opened the account last Tuesday in Turat, so why should I go to Ensors? It is typical of France. The simplest things take forever and always require a return visit to sort them out. It had taken an hour-and-a-half to open the account – wrongly!

It was bucketing down and the car would not start. A 1985 2CV does not like the cold nor the wet. I eventually tried it on the starting handle and it immediately kicked into life. I wondered about the wisdom of going into town in the circumstances but reasoned I'd only be annoyed if I didn't, so I set off.

There was a car show in town so no place to park near the bank, so I continued to E. Leclerc. After purchasing my shopping (£8 worth of steak at £3 per kilo!) I got back to the car and turned the key in the ignition.

“Phutt!”

The battery was dead.

I looked around for likely suspects and accosted a man of about thirty and asked for help. I told him the battery was dead but I could not remember the word for, “jump leads.” Anyway, he offered to give me a push which I thought futile and indeed so it turned out.

He was clearly not much interested in getting embroiled in my problems and so left me with advice to borrow some, “câbles” from somewhere. At least I got the word I was after.

I hurried across the car park in the pouring rain to a coach station, where I borrowed the most enormous jump leads that I have ever seen.

Waiting for help I spotted a woman loading shopping into a pick-up truck, so I approached her. As I began speaking, I noticed the car had English plates. What a stroke of luck!

I explained my situation and she rapidly agreed to help.

She drove over and opened the bonnet . I have never jump started a car myself before but after a couple of shocks I got it right and tried the 2CV.

We had power alright but it wasn't firing. I tried again on the handle but nothing. Clearly, the poor car was soaked through.

The woman offered, “Are you sure it's the battery? It doesn't sound like the battery.”

I said that it was and to myself thought, “Of course it's not the battery now – I'm using yours.”

It was no use so she offered to tow me home. As luck would have it she was not on holiday but also lived out here not far away.

I was delighted but we had no rope. I took the jump leads back but the chap there was not so forthcoming when I enquired about some rope. I tried Leclerc but they didn't even sell any, so I went back.

The woman had found a piece of strap for fastening down luggage and suggested we try it. I said that we shouldn't really but she insisted that we might as well.

It snapped before leaving the car park, which was probably something of a relief.

Finally, I asked if she wouldn't mind giving me a lift home and so at least I would get get back. She did not mind at all, so I left the car in the corner of the car park and hoped it would be alright.

It is amazing how coincidences come about. It turns out that our neighbour (of sorts – an Englishman who lives in a caravan in a field next to us and whom we have been hoping to get rid of for years) has been helping this woman with some building work. More than that, he ended up following us home. The Englishwoman stopped to say hello and we shook hands and he is a most peculiar looking chap. Mum is convinced he is on drugs and I wouldn't contest it.

I changed out of my soaked clothes and watched the Saturday sports programmes as planned but I couldn't relax fully, thinking how I was going to sort out the car. Mum and Dad were not due back until Monday evening and I was supposed to be in work on Monday morning.

Eventually, it struck me - Dad's old bike! If it brightened up and the 2CV got a bit of sun on it, it would start. I had got a bit of charge into the battery from the Englishwoman's car. Plus, I could use the handle!

I determined to give it until tomorrow but as the weather cleared up by this evening, impatience got me on the bike and into town. I tried it on the handle but got nothing but sore, bruised hands. I dared not use the battery and ruin my chances for tomorrow when it could have dried out more, so I rode back, had a Stein, steak-frites and wine and watched Elvis videos.

Also, I have been giving Ben plenty of retrieves. At almost thirteen years of age, he loves it. It gives him his exercise and he tells me when he has had enough. He is great!

25th April

I went to see the boss this morning – I still don't know his name. He told me to do the same hours as Bernard today and then take Saturday and Sunday off and then I would get my hours and contract on Monday morning.

Today was very much as yesterday. I looked forward to getting home for the week-end.

Mum and Dad had gone to Moreans for the dog trials with Star and Mi-mi. Ben was at home.

I had been swatting up on Colpierre during my lunchtimes and aim to do some on Sunday, but I will relax on Saturday.

Bernard mentioned that I would be doing tours after three days. I cannot tell if he's joking, or not.

Pizza tonight with a Stein.

I managed to break the indicator lever on the 2CV.

24th April 2003

I started work today. I can't believe it – a guide of the sanctuaries in Colpierre – in French! I am not religious and have no interest in history, so it could be tricky. More than that, it's downright ridiculous.

I met Bernard, the chief guide, and followed him on his tours. I was busy listening and trying to learn but he takes so long about it – an hour and a quarter. Unfortunately, I have switched off by the last half an hour. I cannot believe I will ever be able to do it. I was loaned a big book about Colpierre. I think that the boss had forgotten I was starting today so I was told I would get my contract, hours etc. tomorrow.

Who Needs a Guide?

WHO NEEDS A GUIDE?

Author: David Elliott

Foreword

We all spend a lot of time thinking. We ponder eventualities and we try to find out the reasons behind all that happens and all that goes on around us all the time. Hopefully, most of us in society have good intentions and our musings are in good humour. We have desires and ambitions. Sometimes, or perhaps all too often, we struggle a little to get down to it and actually put into practice what we spend so much time longing for or thinking about.

I do not think that it is laziness. It is more likely that we lack confidence in ourselves or it may be a negative attitude that we harbour towards the ways of society in general and a failure to believe that anything will ever come of our efforts. Do we ever get our just rewards? Those who succeed, whether they be writers, film-makers, athletes or whatever, have all been given a hefty helping hand up the ladder – haven't they?

I believe we all intend to put into practice our plans at some point. We have always wanted to be something but for some reason or another we have not got down to it.

It is interesting to reflect. Thoughts, aims and feelings swill around in minds all the time. The world has existed for a long time and something tells me not a lot has changed. Maybe I will be surprised. There is a lot I have not yet seen.

What can we do today? What can we do now?

Bodies and minds function with nature and with the seasons. When it is Spring, finally it is warming up and the days are clearer, brighter and getting longer. It feels like spring and we feel like Spring. Energetic, clear and new. That is a feeling we have in Spring. Do we have the right to feel that clear and happy, that alert? Of course we, do so why with all the advances in time, thought and technology, do we not feel it all the time?

When it is winter and cold and damp and dark and miserable, it gets to late in the evening and there is nothing to do and nowhere to go. There is little other than empty entertainment on the TV. If you resist watching rubbish on the television, you go to bed. You go to bed early and even if you are an early riser, you find yourself getting up a little later each day. It is dark outside, so even with the best intentions, why get up? It seems logical so far. However, as a kid, I always thought that if I were to be granted one wish then I would wish to never have to sleep. There was a clause to that wish in that I could sleep if I wanted – but I would never actually need to. My reasoning was that I would be able to get so much done. So, why now as adults with a big wide world out there do we allow ourselves to remain, “zonked” for such large periods of the year.

I guarantee I will not find the answer, but I am interested in trying to do so. I can feel this is an important and interesting time in my life now, as it should be in everybody's. I have been working, but I cannot for the life of me fathom why, as it is such a mind-numbing, brickwall-butting occupation. Who am I kidding? I did it for the money and for the holidays. Even so, I am moving beyond it in a fashion that I believe is destiny taking a hand. I was never destined to work. Some people are and believe me, some souls out there are doing an amazing job and I have so much respect for them - a respect that I did not to the same degree before.

I have been amazed at some of the things I have encountered and found. Briefly, how thick so many people are and how little qualifications actually seem to count, despite what we are led to believe as children. It can be incredibly difficult to even get what may be regarded as a “numpty” job these days and yet we are supposedly all impelled to spend our life's energies and efforts into securing that pitiful and pointless existence. However, what I have seen and discovered is how much there actually is out there, how much help there is on offer and how many people are willing to provide warmth and assistance.

It all steels me to stop resting and to stop accepting. I do not want to sleep any more. Now is the time to open up to destiny and to relish it and it cannot start anywhere else but here.

Our aim should be to transfer our desires as we want them and in our time, so as to truly reflect our thought processes and intentions. In that way, we can be more interesting to ourselves and more interesting to a companion or observer. Unquestionably, we will at least be more meaningful and poignant within ourselves. If we edit our dreams in order that some elements are better explained or make more sense or perhaps reflect ourselves in a better light, it would be false and fundamentally uninteresting. It is not necessary to set ourselves up as some form of genius or expert in philosophy. If we we say or do something stupid, then remember it. Let's look at it, read about it, laugh about it, be shocked by it or cry about. Equally, let us refrain from explaining every situation. There are times when how you got there, why you got there, what you did before, or who exactly someone is, is not important. Some gaps can provide a little intrigue and can invite a little imaginative thought. Those gaps can easily be filled in our minds and musing, just as we wish.

Give it a go.

This is a short tale of a young man who is attempting to create a new life for himself. He is racked with questions as to what he can do and what he should do. Where he should go and where it will take him. His mind is battling with his past and his future, but what about the present?

The reason for the title becomes clear as you read through the journey and share the observations, the thoughts and the actions.

There is more to life than meets the eye. Go beyond the image, open the door and set yourself free.

Most of all, be yourself, be true and be good.