Can it get any worse?

French striking about the retirement age being raise

The news is making very grim reading for us just lately. A couple of weeks ago, it was announced that there is an alleged terrorist plot in Europe and many governments were warning it's citizens about traveling to the UK, Germany and France. In the days that followed this news, we had two reservations canceled. Perhaps it was coincidence; however, it made us groan a little.

That was yesterdays news and people forget pretty quickly. Well, they would do but we have had our next dose of bad news. It seems that the French are not happy that they might have to work more in their lives. From what my wife tells me, the Prime Minister of France, Sarkozy, wants to increase the retirement age from 60 to 62. This seems to have whipped the French up in to a frenzy. The translation of Frenzy in French means strike!

I don't know if it is all linked and I am in no way a political commentator; however, as they are in this frenzied state, they have decided to block the oil refineries. I am told that many of the service stations are now running out of fuel and rationing is taking place in some areas. Not content with that, the French also want to go out on strike. This means that the transport system may start grinding to a halt. With all that said, can the tourism business get any worse in France these days?

It is easy to forget the reality of the situation when you are worrying about yourself an your interests. Maybe we should stop and congratulate the French for standing up for their rights. They are standing up for what they believe in and saying now to a tyrannical government. I remember this happening in Britain during the Thatcher years. Perhaps we have become too soft in our country and accept government policies too easily. The last thing I read about the retirement age in Britain was that it was going to be raised from 65 to 66 or 67. Contrast that with the French and you can see what a difference we have culturally. When that announcement was made by our Government, I can't remember any protesting. In fact, legally, companies cannot make you retire. As long as you are in a good health, workers can carry on past the retirement age should they wish!

All we can do now is sit back and watch this melee escalate on the TV. We are seeing a dip in reservation enquiries these days and you can't blame people if they are avoiding France at the moment. Many people are happy to come to France to spend their hard earned money on a holiday. This money, that was earned in other countries that have already accepted that they have troubled economies and have gone about tightening belts; a vital injection of cash that would have gone in to the French coffers. Sadly, this money is looking like it will be spent elsewhere.

So, can things get any worse? My wife is due to give birth in some weeks and the nearest maternity hospital is about 40 minutes drive from our house at Utah Beach. All I can say is that if we have no diesel to drive her there, and I have to deliver the baby in the house, I will pack up and return to England! Even if I have to work until I drop! I think that even if the retirement age was 62 like the French are fighting for, with all this stress, I don't think I would make it anyway!

Where is home?

This is a belated post as I have been busy over the last few days. I also didn't want to remember the particularly bad train journey I had last week.

It was time to leave Normandy, once again, to head back to England. Without sounding like a stuck record, I thought I might describe the train journey from Normandy to England.

The day started badly with a not very pleasant ticket clerk at Carentan. With the modern ticket offices, they have an intercom system to talk to the passengers. This is necessary as they sit behind three inches of re-enforced glass. Each time I spoke with the ticket clerk, she would switch off the intercom so I could not hear what she was saying to her colleague. I couldn't help getting a bit paranoid each time this happened. It is the sort of feeling you get when you walk into a corner shop that is run by Indians or Pakistanis. As soon as you walk in, they immediately start talking in their own language. You can't help feeling that they are talking about you. With the bout of paranoia over and done with, I now had my tickets for the next few journeys.

It is not long before we are advised that the train is delayed. Due to operating problems, the train is expected 20 minutes late. Not to mind, I have about an hour and 15 minutes to change in Paris for my Eurostar connection. 20 minutes pass and the train has not arrived. No more information and no idea when the train will arrive. I look across at the ticket office and I see the two ticket clerks talking to each other with no regards to the passengers. I can tell by the expressions on their faces that they are planning their next strike. I can see why they are behind re-enforced glass now!

Another ten minutes pass by and then we here the noise on the rails that indicate that the train is arriving. This is the only way we would find out as the ticket office blinds are now closed. Maybe the strike has started already!

Safely on the train, I bid my wife farewell and prepare myself for the 2 1/2 hour journey to Paris. I had come prepared this time with my laptop and 3g internet card. I am pleased with myself as I had remembered to bring the British to French power adaptor. I would need that as the battery on the laptop lasts for about two minutes, despite the screen telling me I have 3 hours of power!

The next dose of bad news. The design of the plug on the train prevents me from putting in my adapter. There is a metal lid that lifts up to reveal the plug. Unfortunately, the adapter is too bulky to fit in it with this lid. The next 30 minutes or so is spent trying to snap the plastic adapter to make it fit. The only thing I managed to do was smack my knuckles on the table by trying to hard. No Internet for me then!

In the process of trying to adapt the adapter, I hadn't noticed that the train was running very slowly. I also failed to notice that we were in Bayeux for quite a long time. Once again, no information was given for why we were getting later and later. Needless to say, the train was delayed just long enough for me to miss my connection in Paris.

On arrival in Paris, I quickly went to the ticket office in Saint Lazare to exchange my ticket for the next Eurostar departure. The lady was very helpful and was smiling as she gave me the new ticket. I knew that the next train left at 16:13 so I made my way to Gare Du Nord to check in. As I arrived at the station, I noticed that my ticket was for the 18:43 departure. No wonder the nice lady in the ticket office was smiling; she knew I would have to wait 3 1/2 hours for the next train.

What was I going to do for 3 1/2 hours? I could have gone sightseeing but with the rushing around, I was getting hot and sweaty. I also had a rucksack and a suitcase and I didn't fancy lugging that around Paris.

Having given it some thought, I did what all Parisians would have done. I thought about going on a strike march but decided on a long late lunch instead. I am quite used to eating at the table for long periods of time so a few hours would be a piece of cake. In fact, I had to order a piece of cake to kill the last hour of the lunch.

Finally, I am on the Eurostar and waiting for lift off. Just before we left, I was joined by a nice man who immedieately made conversation with me. Geoff, or Jeff, lived on the opposite side of the Cotentin Peninsula. Turns out that we are neighbours in France. There is about 50 miles between us, but we are almost neighbours. We chatted about the life in France, strikes, fosse septics and all things French until the train came to a grinding halt. We were politely told that there are operating problems and we will be delayed. These polite operating problems ultimately delay the train by 30 minutes.

Sitting at the table opposite ours, was a young family. It turns out that the man was Irish and his wife was Colombian. They had a long distance relationship before they settled in England. When I explained my long distance relationship for almost the last ten years, they were amazed. I think they felt some pity for me for having to do this, but were amazed all the same. As I tried to make my story sound amazing, I tried to look pitiful to get some sympathy.

This journey has taught me two things. The first is that although I love train travel, I hate train travel. The second is, if we talk to people around us, there are some great stories to be heard. I am not sure if my story is a great one, but the fact that a few people out there know what I am doing to make this life work, is quite reassuring for me. Don't ask me why but it is.

If the people I have met today ever read this post, for their information, I managed to make my connection in London with just two minutes to spare. I got home after 13 hours of travel. Where is home anyway?

Updating the accommodation

It has been a fair few days since my last post so I thought I should post an update tonight before I sleep. Talking of sleep, I have been washed out since my latest all night drive from England to Normandy. I left at 0200 on Friday morning and arrived here at about 1500. Needless to say, I felt exhausted when I finally arrived!

The reason for the all night drive was to enable to bring all of my tools from England. We have a refurbishment programme for our gite accommodation which is planned for November. When our last guests have departed, work will commence on our new social area. Our plan is to turn an unused room in to an area where guests can hang out and socialise. I also plan to put in a PS3 and large screen TV. This will be used for Call of Duty nights during the high season. Guests will be able to battle it out safe in the knowledge that no real guns will be fired. In very different circumstances to that of 1944!

There are a number of other upgrades that I plan to do, but for the moment, I am concentrating on the social room. You know how men can be; start a job, but never finish. I have no choice as I will only have a couple of months before the guests start arriving in 2011. Two months sounds a lot, but with a new baby due smack bang in the middle of them, I'm sure the time will pass by quicker than I imagine. They say that time flies when you are having fun; does it fly when you don't?