Mad Darby Diaries

I am in the UK basking in temperatures I have rarely experienced here in the summer let alone February.  Here is the warning, however, the fresh meat section in the supermarket is so cold that my fingers turned white and I couldn't wait to get out of the aisles.  If they wish shoppers to linger and maybe buy more, or if they are hoping that the shoppers are having a pleasant experience in their stores, they are deliriously wrong.  It is a miserable experience.  I was so cold that even when I moved into non fresh food aisles I was suffering from lingering hypothermia.  My verdict - too cold, too much plastic. My son works for a supermarket and we were trying to change his pension contributions.  On contacting the pension provider I was told that as the pension belongs to an outside source of independent stature that I should contact their human resources section for advice.  I rang them.  'That is a self-service proposition' I was told, 'so we c...

I took my 3 year old grandson for a walk along the heritage trail.  The small river that runs through it was completely dried up.  'What on earth can have happened?' I asked myself out loud.  My grandson looked at the mud with a serious face and then said without a hint of humour, 'Daddy must have drunk it - with a straw.' Before I left for the UK I took my car into the garage to get a new tyre fitted.  It was due to go in on the Thursday but that was the day of the funeral so I telephoned the garage and spoke to the garage owner's wife, who is even deafer than I am and asked if I could change the date to the Friday.  'Je suis  desole mais mon ami s'est suicidee et la ceremonie est jeudi.'  'I am sorry but my friend has committed suicide and the funeral is Thursday.'  'Ton mari!' (your husband!)  No not mon mari, mon amie.  ELLE n'avaient  que 53 ans. (She was only 53 years old.)  'Ooh la la, you are like the Macrons,  ...

After the depressing week I have had I decided to go to Saumur to drink coffee with a group of friends.  There was no-one there when I arrived, which is unusual, but after about 15 minutes Catarina, an Italian, came bustling in.  'Something terrible has happened, Peter took a fall and was rushed to the hospital.  He came back yesterday and last night he fell again', she said breathlessly while ordering a coffee in Italian.  The waitress shrugged.  You get all sorts in here, I could see her thinking.  One after another other members of the group arrived and Catarina, now in full flow imparted her grave news to one and all, muddling her languages, talking English to the French, French to the Americans and Italian to anybody at the surrounding tables, in  the hope perhaps that the odd Italian  may have strayed in from the street.  I have never seen so many puzzled faces in my life and although I was concerned for our friend Peter, I couldn't ke...

I have been to three funerals in France and one thing they have had in common was the weather.  Rain and numbing cold.  This is made worse by the fact that everyone turns up to the church but no-one is allowed in until the coffin arrives, is taken into the church and the immediate family have some sort of religious ceremony.  This means that we are standing in the rain and freezing weather for at least half an hour.  When we finally went into the church, bearing in mind I had five layers on, I could not stop shivering.  The church was packed and we were all crying, it was so sad. When we came out the same thing happens but in reverse order.  We all leave the church and stand around in the freezing rain for another half an hour until the coffin and family leave.  Therese and I headed back to her car where she produced 2 blankets and a hot water bottle from inside a cool bag.  I smiled with delight and appreciation.  What a thoughtful gest...