Mad Darby Diaries

 The air conditioning has broken in my car so it was some relief when the temperature dropped  back to the 30 degree mark.  This gave my neighbours fresh enthusiasm to clear up overgrown vegetation.  At my request my American neighbour climbed down to a flat bit of ground where a tree had grown about 6 feet in as many weeks, to lop it.  My job was to clear all the debris when it fell and drag it to a parking space in the courtyard.  The system was working well with another neighbour and her granddaughter joining in to help me clear the debris.  Meanwhile. up above us the American was in full swing, not stopping at 'lopping' the tree but cutting it right back to its roots.  Soon great big branches were hurtling down and that is when it happened.  One branch, instead of coming straight down to the ground decided to take a detour onto his garage roof, creating a big hole right above where his precious car, a Tesla, was being kept safe and sound....

 Last Monday my son and daughter in law were due to catch the 8.15am ferry from Portsmouth to Caen.  It was 6.45am when I stepped out of the shower and heard my phone  going.  I snatched it up.  It was a video  call.  'Mum, we have big problems here,'  and before I could speak he thrust the phone into the hands of a Brittany ferries' staff member and said, 'Talk  to my mum.'  Barely conscious of my wet, tangled hair and trying to cover myself up with a  towel which thought gravity was fun, I asked what the problem was.  Apparently they had the wrong vaccination certificates and were being refused passage.  I asked what I could do and she said they could go and get a test and take a later ferry.  'Where is the nearest test centre in Portsmouth?'  I asked.  'There isn't one,' she replied, 'there  is one in Southampton, or Havant.'  What!  No test centre in Portsmouth?  They both have learni...

 I don't do hairdressers' because they  are expensive, they never do what I  want and I hate having my hair washed by someone else.  I have never  coloured it, thank goodness, so I can get away with not having inane conversations with someone I don't know but who questions me on my personal life and expects me to share all my secrets with him  or her.  I usually visit a hairdresser,who is willing to give me a dry cut, once a year, twice at the most, and in between I hack at it myself.  This causes the hairdresser much distress as she tries to remedy my pathetic attempts.  A few years ago my daughter in law, seeing me chopping with a pair of nail scissors, insisted on giving me a 'proper' pair.  As several months have passed since my last visit, this morning I decided that the time had come to pick up the scissors and have a go.  I just wanted to cut about 2 inches or so off the bottom.  I can't seem to tackle wet hair so I drie...

I had to go next door to inspect the wall that our building shares.  While there the owner, Jean Michel, asked if I like rhubarb and did I know when to pick it.  It was green, rather than the usual reddish colour, but large and when I lightly tugged it, it came away from its stalk. 'Ah,' he said, 'it must be ready' and before I could protest I found myself with an enormous pile of rhubarb in my arms, enough to feed the whole of Saumur.  'My wife doesn't know how to cook it,' he said, so I felt obliged to offer to make them a rhubarb crumble, although I had enough rhubarb to bake fifty. The next day I went to a picnic and one of my friends was telling a group of people that I was famous for killing  plants and warning them against giving me any.  Clearly they were all keen gardeners and gave me the same look that animal lovers cast upon me when I confess to having no pets. So back to the rhubarb.  I made the crumble and carried it to my neighbours' house....

 On Friday I decided to slum it, I didn't wash my hair, put on a shabby tee shirt and jeans and set to work doing those chores around the house that get put off week after week.  I was on my knees scrubbing the dirt that accumulates on skirting boards when you live in an apartment that is 300 years old, when two men appeared in the doorway.  One was the plumber and the other his 16 year old son.  'Just came to say hello,' Michel said, walking in and taking a seat at the table.  I got to my feet.  'Great,' I said, 'lovely to see you.'  I would have said come in and take a seat but they had pre-empted me.  'Would you like a coffee?' I asked, as my American neighbour appeared and joined them at the table.  'Sue,' Michel said, 'we have coffee at breakfast and after lunch,' and looking at his watch, 'now it's apero time.'  Of course it was, how silly of me not to notice.  I glanced at the clock, 12.20pm, and then at the shelf w...

 It is summer and tennis has moved outdoors onto an impossible hard  court but one the players prefer over the clay courts, or terre battue as the French call them.  The other week I fell over on the hard court, which should be renamed corps battue, because one ends up with a battered body.  I digress, however.  On Monday I went to play doubles.  Each of the players turned up in miniscule skirts and barely covering the obvious, tee shirts.  They laughed at my usual long tennis pants and a shirt that covered my elbows.  'It is so hot', they said.  Yes it was hot but my tennis gear is protection for when I fall over again on a court which is made of a substance that sticks your feet to it, inviting the rest of the body to join it on the ground.  Yesterday I fell over again.  So I am not so stupid after all. The world  is in a mess, not least in the States where the Supreme Court is putting the country back 200 years as far as gun...

 I am sure we all have our pet stupid rules and the one I came across this week is not only stupid but also expensive.  This is one that has been in existence for many years but didn't affect the Brits until Brexit.  Every time someone comes  to stay with me, even family,  I have to go to the Mairie with 13 pieces of  paper, including proof that I own my apartment, proof that I actually live there, copies of my visitors' passports, their dates of birth and addresses, dates of their visit and 30€ for each set of visitors.  I had to tell them the square metres of my apartment so that they could ascertain whether it was large enough to accommodate visitors or not.  They seemed to have forgotten to ask for my blood type.  Then on arrival at the Mairie I have to  complete a two page form, which is then submitted  to  the Maire who signs and stamps it.  I am still  waiting for it.  Then I have to post it to my sons for...