World-beating

France does a lot of things very well: bread, cheese, wine, erudite Presidents; but for crisps Britain wins hands down.

An unwise decision to do a one-car trip to the market resulted in lots of standing in the rain for me.  Then a quick dry and off to the New Year party at the Mairie.  Only, turns out, the party wasn't at the Mairie, so I joined a small group of villagers searching every likely venue in the village.  We found it eventually.  As we arrived, the Mayor was into the 'thank yous' bit of her speech, which was surprisingly long and would probably have been over more quickly if she'd just read out a list of all the residents.

Then, slightly surreally, the purpose of the disco set up in the corner of the room became clear when a man of a certain age did a Johnny Halliday cover at top volume, with full hip shaking, lip curling gusto.  The nuns were not impressed.  I chatted with everyone I needed to chat to (if we ever want planning permission this brown-nosing will pay off) and a few people I wanted to chat to as well, learning a very interesting and pragmatic approach by the French to passports as regards people who want to go to the US but have unwise stamps in their passports.  Then off through the rain to CarbBoy's basketball match.

They lost, narrowly, but I had to limit my normally passionate involvement in the match as I was sitting chatting with my friend C, whose son is on the other team.  Nice chat, as it happens, and I learned that our village Collège is starting a residential basketball academy run by the professional player who first enthused the kids about basketball.  I doubt CarbBoy will want to apply as he loves his school so much, but it is interesting to see what the new Head Teacher up there is doing.

Later, more socialising at aperos with the neighbours to talk rubbish (literally - we have to sort out a solution for rubbish collection).  Something sensible has probably been decided on, and for now it's out of my hands as our esteemed leader is going to write a stern letter about it.

Mr B had cooked, so home for that and then as a change from Battlestar Galactica and Engrenages (which the kids dont' much care for) we watched La La Land.  Which was ok.  But I'm not sure it was our kind of thing.  TallGirl, in particular was furious about the ending.

And the rain continues to pour down.  If it's doing that tomorrow (it will be) I may have to forget that I'm a soft southerner now and just get out and garden in the rain.