This latest Slogpost aims to show the connection between the anonymous steerage citizen and the titanic forces of unelected cops, multinational companies, Generals and bureaucrats. Even if Big seems unsinkable, we can all take heart from the continued success of the Iceberg.
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Everyone at some point in their lives goes through a period of calamity, when a series of mishaps collect in a wobbly pile day after day until one wonders where it might end. For me, one of those times began the day Parliament agreed on an election date, and culminated (I hope) in a bizarre repetition of history four days ago.
During those nineteen days, the Velux skylight in the Maison d’Amis suddenly turned into a water feature, flooding much of the sitting room; we had a 110 kph tempest that brought down two huge silver birch trees and sprayed branches from one end of the property to the other; a family of Loirs decided to take up residence in my study; the two farming brothers whose land coincides with mine at the north east end managed to hack through a tree, collapsing a fence I spent much of Autumn 2018 constructing at the back of my writer’s retreat there; the dishwasher performed normally, up to but not including washing anything terribly well at first, prior to finally winking at me with its little red light and doing nothing at all beyond that; the washing machine started flooding the kitchen; the gas company refused to supply me with gas until I’d sent the money in advance….because my bank wrongly bounced a cheque four years ago; and a deer decided that a blind corner on the way into my local village was its own personal pedestrian crossing, causing me to swerve, lose control of the car, and wind up in a ditch.
While trying to sort such things out, you learn an awful lot about what works in a culture, and what doesn’t. The bottom line in France is that most beings human surprise you with their generosity, and pretty much all things systemic screw up.
***
The Skylight issue requires a Time reverse back to 2014, when two young Polish gentlemen fitted it. I was sure the roof gradient was too shallow for a Velux, but they demurred. The nearest they could get to pronouncing my name was “Dthern”, which has one letter in the correct place but is otherwise inadmissable in games of Scrabble. “Dan woyyee Dthern,” they said, “Z’or-keu, noeio prerblongue”. Then they disappeared. I still have 15 square metres of mock-wood flooring as a result of Polish mathematics: it’s in the cellar, bending a little more with every year. I can’t see it being of much use in stopping the skylight leak.
We get howling gales here every Autumn, so I have enough kindling to start domestic chimney fires from now until my youngest granddaughter gets married. You can visualise how many twigs that involves by the fact that Rosa is three years old. Wooden burning material as a byproduct of storms sounds like a free gift…..until you’ve hauled huge lumps of rain-sodden wood to a point that’s within range of your mains electric saw. After the experience, it feels like a pain in the arse, arms, legs, shoulders and back. Cutting 1.2 hectares of grass is a chore; clearing all the wood away so you can cut the grass puts you into Stations of the Cross territory.
The French rodent Loir is a cute little cross between a mouse, a kangaroo and a shitting machine. You know when you’ve got them, because their turds dwarf mouse droppings, and their ability to chew curtains, nest in your writing desk and galumph around noisily above the ceiling is unsurpassed by any species of which I’m aware.
By the time I discovered my stowaways, they were five in number – Mr, Mrs & three kids. I threw a collander over one infant before releasing it in the next county. The other four were tempted into rat cages by the use of gala or golden delicious apples and Tomme cheese. Your loir is something of a bon viveur, and thus almost certain to reject cooking apples, French emmenthal cheese or conference pears.
The Quintet had all been evicted as of yesterday afternoon. I don’t like to think about the petrol cost involved in their relocation.
My immediate farming neighbours are the offspring of what local legend insists was a family engaged in the practice of incest. Although I have no evidence to support such lore, the siblings concerned both have those beaky noses and close-together eyes one associates with Hillbillies plucking on banjos while sitting in Kentucky trees. I shall not be seeking redress from them, or indeed any other form of Deliverance.
So, via kitchen durables and the corporate truculence of monopoly gas heating suppliers and incompetent banks, we arrive at last Tuesday’s thrilling duel between a Peugeot 207 and a deer.
The Peugeot came off worst, being – it seems – a write-off, whereas the deer escaped intact. I was left trapped behind jammed doors in a ditch. I can only be thankful that it wasn’t a Borisonian ditch, for I am alive to tell the tale.
Within seconds, various buses, cars and motor bikes stopped, my car doors were prised open, and normal human beings asked with genuine concern if I was alright. Every one of them had a deer near-collision episode to talk about. (As it happens, the last French car accident I was involved in thirty years ago was the result of avoiding deer).
One chap very kindly gave me a lift into the village, where the local épicerie staff rustled up a rescue bloke à toute vitesse for me. He too was a diamond, delivering me back at my own door and hauling the car off to his garage.
And from then on, everything went pear-shaped.
***
I’m insured with Peugeot, and only ever deal with my local Peugeot dealer. He’s a nice bloke. Having this personal connection has always seemed important to me. But he works for a global combine, and after a certain level upwards there is a mantra that goes like this: “You being merely a client, and the fuckwit who totalled the vehicle in the first place, must of course do all the legwork”.
Liaise between Peugeot Assistance and Peugeot Assurance; find an assessor in our internecine organisation and give him some dates to come to your dealer, then check to see the dealer is OK with that; get your dealer to fill in our form to allow you to have a courtesy vehicle; find your own way (without a car) to get to the dealership; fill in another form to give us the exact inside back leg measurement of the deer, but apply to get it online because we can’t be bothered to understand the phonetics of your email address and send it to you; look, stop moaning – we’re a busy car manufacturer and you need to lose this ridiculous sense of entitlement you have.
Central to an understanding of contemporary French culture is the yawning canyon between les citoyens – as typified by the Gilets Jaunes – and the increasingly corporocratic State headed (and lauded) by Emmanuel Macron and his banker/ENAC mates. The GJs resent unjust taxation by Paris, and lousy service from “privatised” monopolies: unfortunately, there is no credible anti-Establishment figure to unite the Opposition. And thus, without doubt, Macron the centrist fake will be reelected.
This isn’t a purely French thing: as the Mob gets bigger, the individual small guy becomes almost invisible to the élite.
But here’s an analogy to chew on: without question, the biggest threats to the existence of Homo sapiens in the post antibiotic 21st century are only visible through a microscope.
Hi Tony, love to know the guitarists full name, searched YES, but no Dave listed. Thanks in advance.
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John
I had a dream !
The elites are going to get all the housing they need (for our replacements).
I caught a litte bit on BBC …..they are using a moqque greasy spoon mobile to stop folk and ask who they would like vote for and why!
The first lady stopped was obviousy Afro strong accent………………..her answer wa “Mr Corbine! he will give me a house …for me and my family”.
Back to my dream .
The new Corbinnistra Government will use every wheeze known too man, In my opinion, to get whity out of his home and country if required……… to keep his promise to the alien hoard?
Remember the elites have form on this , in WW2 .Finchley was empty…………for most of the War! ‘bit of a joke this. When the war ended they had additional victory parties for new stange (scotch and north of England accents!) new commers……….some found some of their housed had been taken over by the authorities and Irish tinkers and suchlike, they Had to use the likes of Krays to eject some of them.
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To Lupulco: A respected contractor bidding for some of the Notre Dame restauration explained to me that battery driven tools were on charge overnight. As all power circuits are turned off at night, some bright spark used the limited 24 hr.circuit feeding the famous bell to get a prompt start. Overload – bingo!
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Came across this chap who tutored E F Schumacher (Small is Beautiful) and having read your latest piece regarding the position and experiences of us lesser mortals in the machinations of modern living can thoroughly relate to your predicaments. It’s all about getting through the day with the least aggravation and financial embarrassment.
From Leopold Kohr’s most popular work The Breakdown of Nations (1957):
“… there seems to be only one cause behind all forms of social misery: bigness. Oversimplified as this may seem, we shall find the idea more easily acceptable if we consider that bigness, or oversize, is really much more than just a social problem. It appears to be the one and only problem permeating all creation.
Whenever something is wrong, something is too big. … And if the body of a people becomes diseased with the fever of aggression, brutality, collectivism, or massive idiocy, it is not because it has fallen victim to bad leadership or mental derangement. It is because human beings, so charming as individuals or in small aggregations, have been welded into over concentrated social units”.
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Oh dear, oh dear.
No affiliation with this other than bought some., but, Maybe check out these….
Deer Whistle -http://deerwhistles.co.uk/
Does it work, who knows!! cant audible test it as beyond human hearing range, but to date no deer encountered in the New Forest.
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I think My Generation is The Best, though some younger people, try and slag us off…Yeh well kids, try and make someone else happy, and text your Ex. who I have seen once in the last 40 years – are you coming to the Gig?????????????????????
She said I was going to text you…Are you going???
Lets meet up for a drink.
https://www.royalalberthall.com/tickets/events/2019/hawkwind/
She has met my wife once, and they really got on
Personally, I love a bit of peace and quiet. Its an audio hell if you are sat between them….
Rabbit rabbit etc….but with lovely singy voices and lots of laughs..and me with a big smile on my face, as if I’m not there.
You teenagers are all brainwashed by the likes of your new leader Greta. You have become incredibly uneducated and know absolutely nothing of any importance about anything, yet think you do.
God help you.
Tony
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Glis glis are protected.
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Ref Paris and London
Muslims Do Not Assimilate
Still on Paris. Fire at Notredam Cathedral, What is the official cause? Google What caused Notre Dame fire?
Nothing after June 2019?
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Brilliant Mr Ward. If only half those catastrophes were to be true and I were in your position I would’ve had a terminal heart-attack by now. Congratulations you’re still compus -and indeed corpus– mentis.
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John,
Just to pass my regards on to you. That sounds like a real chunk of stuff to have had. So much for things coming in threes. Suffice it to say, as others have said here, I’m glad to hear you’re OK.
Best wishes,
DavidC
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I live next to the New Forest in Hampshire . There are signs everywhere asking motorists to watch out for deer ,ponies and other animals . My friend smashed up her new car on a tree to avoid hitting a fox . I have decided that swerving to avoid an animal is out . Brake hard and hope for the best will be my decided option . Driving slower is also an option of course .
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I love your stories Tony….thanks
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Internal confusion engine….I love it…may have pinch it
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Something of a loaded Gun handed to Waspi woman this Sunday morning.
What a predicament. The potential of thousands of delicious pounds at an awkward moment in life, in exchange for a vote for Marxist loons.
This Labour party writ large.
What would l do?
I wouldn’t like to say.
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Although I have spent 3 yrs living in France, speak fluent French, and with many French relations, ( being the Grandson of an Alsation lady from circa 1918 WW1 liaison with an Irish Tommy), I have opted to remain in the country of my Father’s birth, for reasons of expediency as outlined in your article! Being in Paris in September of this year after an absence of 20 yrs, was eye opening in terms of noticing the ethnicity divergence away from Caucasians in the 8em Arondissement where I was staying the weekend!
—————————–
8th rules OK! Crackerjack coin. Paris is the pits now….like London, a city utterly ruined by forced multicultural nonsense, and migrants who can’t believe their luck.
JW
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I hope the dramas resolve John and normal service reumes to your desires.
Regarding Waspi Women.
Boris Johnson was given the opportunity on Live TV to make a commitment to correct the wrong He did not.
@1.27.10
https://hat4uk.wordpress.com/2019/10/04/the-2020-waspi-judgement-can-snatch-victory-from-the-jaws-of-brexit-defeat/
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It’s easy to slag off Facebook, and I do – but when the automatic machine, works out, that I might know Dave, who sometimes used to play on a stool in our local pub…he literally sat there, picking his guitar, and I could never remember his name, but he always remebered mine – and said hello Tony…so I asked my mate who is nearly as old as me…do you know this man…
He said yeh “Best Young Guitarist of The Year” about 25 years ago. This guy toured the world when he was about 25, with some of the real greats….and when he came back – he would tell me the inside story – as if he was my best mate…
The greatest thing he ever said, (and I know its true)…”We were doing a World Tour…We played in Quebec (Canada) in front of 90,000 people Headlining….and our next gig, was across the border in The USA – and they wouldn’t let our Drummer In”
The US Border Police, wouldn’t let him in “He looks like a Terrorist” ( a bit like Bob Marley but even more English)
So the band had a discussion with The Americans – They said get another drummer…
The band told The Americans – if You don’t let our Drummer in – Then the Entire American Tour is Off. We are not doing it without him…It was The Greatest “Fuck You” from The British To The Americans that I know about recently…They cancelled the American tour and came home.
I was entranced when I first saw him play…and Facebook suggests, I might know him, and could make a Friend Request. He’s a nice bloke, so I did.
YES
Tony
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Oh Malheur, Malheur!
An annus horribilis indeed.
On the positive side, it appears the Loir is called in English,
the edible or fatty dormouse.
It can grow up to 34cms long.
Since you liberated it rather than eat it you might enquire locally for a recipe. Loir au vin, perhaps?
Shame about the orang with the deer…
À bientôt
Gérard
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John, don’t forget the latent potential of a huge asteroid smacking into the Earth. Then as a fellow NoTTLer put it we really will be between a rock and a hard place…..
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I thought this was relevent.
https://imgur.com/gallery/Pdw5rvF
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Aah – the European dormouse! – Loir. Myoxus Glis.
A close cousin of the Glis Glis, the edible dormouse (never tried one). Found in the wild near Tring in Hertfordshire after Rothschild imported some during his Fauna collecting days and lost a few. Champneys was infested with them at one time. (I lived up the road for a while). Destructive little bu**ers. Brought Muntjacs in too, as well as having a team of Zebra pull an open carriage.
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Thank God you are alright John and good luck with all the inconveniences!!!!
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Poor JW. One of the first things I do when arriving in forrin climes for any duration of stay is secure a private vehicle of disgustingly dubious vintage but relative reliability; they keep going and lie somewhat beneath the radar of the gendarmerie. This system has never let me down, not even in Bulgaria, and may always be relied upon as the least expensive means of motoring abouit the locality. If I had to stay for an extended period, however, I could be grumblingly be persuaded to alternative methods.
I still remember with much fondness a powder blue Renault 6 in the late ’70s. Cost me 120 francs and apart from an exhaust system which fell off after a couple of weeks (and was fixed by one of the most morose men I have ever met in a blacksmiths near Rodez – his workmanship was superb) it was so comfortable and ran without a hiccup for weeks.
Always steer clear of main dealers – long been a mantra of mine with ref. to anything with an internal confusion engine in it. I am the proud possessor of an ancient Jaguar XJ8 V8 gas-guzzler and it cost me pennies; it’s never let me down and has nothing wrong with it apart from a moderate thirst for the old jungle juice. Reckon I’ve saved pounds over the years :-)
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…”the Velux skylight in the Maison d’Amis suddenly turned into a water feature”
Yeh, well I had the same problem about 10 years ago, as a result of exceedingly cold weather. My little sweet blonde wife, opened our Velux Skylight – to see the pretty Garden, and even The BT Tower in London – about 12 miles away (as the crow flies – I remember it well on 7/7 – and the Ripple Effect it was like an episode from Hitchcock – but was extremely real – well the explosions were and it freaked out all the birds including me – I was worried about my wife)
I then posted “All Terrorists are Cunts” which got me permanently from my favourite website, because I refused to apologise.
The Ice Covered Velux Window shattered, as my wife slammed it shut…
So I had another job to do. I asked my Son, how do we do this – replace the window…I thought shit, I am not climbing up there, to do it from the outside, and whilst he can climb really well, I didn’t want him slipping on the tiles…
He said “Dad do a Google Youtube Search of how to replace Velux Windows”
I said no one will have done a video to show you how you do that. But they had so my son and I did it for the cheapest price we could find for The Velux Window about £50…
Otherwise it would have cost us close to £1,000.
We used our own Labour. Claimed nowt.
Watch that water tank at the top of your house. Test the ballcock and the overflow…and try and keep it well insulated from the freezing cold, or you may get really flooded out, but I guess you know about plumbing and stuff. Plumbers and Sparks here cost a fortune, but I kind of served my apprenticeship. It’s amazing what you can learn, if you’ve got a great Dad. You start by asking him – How the hell do you do this – and he crawls under the heap of rusty metal shows you.
He helped design and DEPLOY the Mulberry harbour as well – but that’s an Official Secret, but they didn’t hit My Dad, or I wouldn’t be here.
Tony
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Sorry to hear about your travails John but pleased you seem to have come through unscathed and retain a sense of humour.
It’s also good to be reminded that you can normally rely on “ordinary” people for help in an emergency – and they’re usually not too screwed up to offer it.
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Loir = dormouse.
Good eating.
I would have no compunction in turning my curtains into food as recompense for all the shit.
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Thank God you’re ok. No wonder you’ve been quiet (relatively) for a bit. Sound like France is a bit like a bit like The Forest of Dean, what with the deer and the inbreds. You are quite right, the money men can not stop the free movement of bugs. In fact they encourage it and think they’ll be immune from the consequences. Well, time will tell.
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