What the Scrap Thieves Do

I went into my garage last night and gazed at in despair. I suppose I should have taken a photo to show before and after but I didn't. I won't share my shame with you. I can't even blame it on the boys either, much though I'd like to.

I went in again this morning and challenged it to a dual. Off I went to Castorama to buy shelves and boxes. They were having a promotion of boxes so I bought nine, with lids, and a set of sturdy shelves. Not being one to hang about, I started immediately I got home, set up the shelves and found, to my dismay that the boxes didn't really fit on them. They were exactly the same height. Bugger.

Then I went through my stuff and sorted out what I wanted to take to the dump, loaded up the car, put in 6 of the 9 boxes and went off. At the dump, I saw the guy in charge and asked him about the thieving that was going on. He said it was rife everywhere, up and down the country. Travellers and gypsies are the main culprits surprise surprise...

They are utterly determined to get in and steal primarily metal which they then sell to scrap dealers. In an attempt to clamp down somewhat, they can no longer be paid in cash apparently, but have to accept a cheque, which means they need a bank account, and, I suppose, exposes them potentially to the fisc... Dump man also said that there were still scrap dealers who just ignored the rule, and continued to pay in cash.

Not only do they steal metal, but they also now break into the office and nick the coffee machine and anything else they can get their hands on. If they can't get in through the door, they break a window, or go round the back. This annoys the dump man more than anything as he has to replace the coffee machine.

The most extraordinary act of thieving though, has to be the kids sent into the clothing containers. France doesn't have such a proliferation of charity shops in towns as there is in the UK. Basically you can take stuff to a Croix Rouge office or put in one of the clothing containers that lurk in dumps and a number of supermarket carparks. They also accept toys, material and shoes. I put a lot of the boys' old clothes and toys in there.

The clothes bin looks a bit like this

The containers are owned by a company in Beaucaire, between Avignon and Nimes which recycles the clothes, sells them on and thus employs a number of people. What the thieving gypsies do is send a child into the container to post out the items. Sometimes, the child gets stuck inside. When this happens, the gypsies ring the company who have to come out all the way from Beaucaire 90 mins away to open up the container and let the child out. I don't know if they manage to recover the clothes at the same time though...

I was going to put two bags of toys and clothes into the container today, but it had been vandalised and forced open with everything nicked. Dump man said that the company is less and less keen to keep coming to repair the containers because every time they do, the containers are vandalised again and everything is stolen. As it costs money to provide, repair and collect from the containers, if there is nothing in them when you get there, it's rather pointless going to all the trouble. It'll come to the point where the company goes bust, and removes all the containers.

It would be much more enterprising of the gypsies if they set up their own recycling business. They obviously have contacts and a network. All it needs is a little organisation and a legitimate business and they wouldn't have to lurk about parasitically stealing from people trying to earn an honest wage. Maybe being part of a parasitic parallel economy is what they enjoy doing best though...

I went back to Casto this afternoon to swap the big boxes for slightly smaller ones. They aren't as high so will fit on my shelves perfectly. All I have to do now is fill them. This morning I found a couple of blouses that belonged to my granny (vintage!) and a long linen petticoat with little blue bows. I suppose I should put stuff like that on EBay. I'm definitely not risking putting them in the gypsy skip. There's all my teddies too, my university scarf, primary school scarf and a shirt from the last day of my sixth form. My granny had knitted some little tank tops and trousers for my teddies - how can you get rid of stuff like that?!

Thieving Rubbish

What do you like doing on a Sunday morning? Lying in? Having a late brunch? Getting up early and dashing off to do something sporty and healthy? I like lying in and I also like a nice little visit to the local dump. I have collected an awful lot of crap over the years and bit by bits 'n' bobs I'm chucking it out, gripped by the 'if I haven't used this for 10 years it must be rubbish' bug.

I suppose I could take it all and try to sell it at the flea market, but I loathe doing that, having people poring over my stuff looking at it with disdain or trying to steal it (very prevalent at our local big puce). It takes up a full Sunday morning that I'll never get back. No, rather send it off to be recycled even if it means I miss out on earning a tawdry €5 for it all.

Every day on my way to work I pass a dump (déchetterie, in French). It's not my dump because I do not live in the agglomeration - I take my rubbish elsewhere, not far away, but not on my way to work. So I just have an academic interest in the one I pass, especially as you need a card from the mairie to be able to use it (theoretically).Well, don't tell anyone but once I dumped an old bike outside the gates on a Sunday and within half an hour it had vanished...

Sturdy new fence

This déchetterie attracts a lot of attention. It closes between noon and 2pm but it's by no means left alone. Not long after it first opened, the fencing around it was damaged next to the main gate so that grotty white van man could sneak in and search for treasure. I'd go past and see chunks of metal being hurled around, or ominous noises of thumps and bangs, and the occasional head pop out of a container.

Then the fencing was repaired with some much sturdier protection. This did not go down well with the free-loaders, not one little bit.

Bent bars plus 2 new thick ones next to chain

Not long after, I went passed and I noticed that some of the gate bars had been prised back, as though superman had used his mega strength to escape from prison. Someone must have taken a piece of machinery to it because the gates are made of strong metal bars. Such determination and dedication! If only they could apply such traits to legitimate work.

I'm beginning to wonder what treasures can be found there that these people go to such trouble to break their way in. I must ask my own déchetterie guy next time I go.

This week the gates were repaired, the metal bars bent back into place plus two new thicker ones to replace the ones irrevocably vandalised, but there's no stopping these guys.

New hole in fence

Another panel of fencing has been removed and access is as free and easy as it was before. I should think the maintenance guys of the agglomeration are getting a wee bit fed up with all this wanton destruction and thieving, and we'll be seeing cctv cameras go up next to catch the ones taking the choicest scraps.

I suppose it goes on at all déchetteries - the one I go to normally has a beaten down bit of fence - but this one is on a busy main road so it attracts attention.

This month my mission is to really clear out the garage and put everything away in nice tidy boxes. I will be making many visits to the déchetterie, I'm sure although I'll never be able to get my car in the garage. It's such a small space really - too small to house an expensive car, but perfect for bikes and accumulated rubbish. No wonder some people give up and just turn it into another room. Where do they put their rubbish though?

Vacances Chez Moi

Last week, being away from home, I managed to get off my backside and go mountain-biking, caving, walking, bit of swimming and canoeing. Back home, the urge to move has evaporated, which is rather a shame. I have done no biking, barely any walking, and no swimming apart from standing around chatting at the pool and getting my ankles wet.

I keep meaning to start cycling the 4.5km to work which would save on petrol costs and really get me fit, but it's just that bit too far and I don't like arriving at work all red faced and sweating. Besides, it's the height of summer so supposedly too hot, or will be next week when I'm back at work and summer really hits.

My youngest has got me taking him to the totally un-local skate park at the Domaine de Grammont where they have a 'bowl' and he can scoot around on his 'trottinette' practising 360s, up 'n' unders, round-the-benders and tell-me-anothers (I'm making these up...).

Skate park, Domaine de Grammont

Today, I decided that I would try and find the domaine's parcours de santé which is 2.5km in length and just right for a brisk walk. I wasn't wearing my sports shoes so, oh woe, I couldn't run even if the mood struck me (unlikely). I left my youngest at the skate park, scooter with new confidence-inspiring 'park' wheels in hand, and set off up the car park.

I came to the park that sets off the big house nicely and serves very well for wedding parties as it's also a registry office venue. This is the only bit I know apart from the skate park and Zenith concert venue as I went to a wedding there once. The park is not that big, but there was a rough path which seemed to meander through the trees although how anyone could run along it beat me. It was also far from being 2.5km in length. Still, I had a brisk stroll, avoided low-slung branches and thorny bushes and then decided to get back and watch my scooting hero.

Outside the park I noticed a plan of the domaine, and found that the parcours de santé was way on the right of the big house on a totally different part of land. Oh well, I'll know for next time. I'm sure I'll get dragged there again. Today was the third time this week. We only go in the morning when there are fewer people about. In the afternoon (our first attempt) the kids were practically queuing to make a move of any sort.

Naturally, when I got back disaster had struck and my son had banged his top lip which was now oozing blood. This put an end to my aspirations to watch his scooting as N°1 Fan and we just came home instead to apply Betadine and nougat.

I'm wondering what to do for the last weekend of the holiday. I feel we should do something, but getting ideas from the boys is like pulling teeth (except my eldest - "Can I go to the fête de [Insert Village] and can you give me some money?"), and I'm feeling too relaxed and lazy to start firing off suggestions. I suppose we could go canoeing on the Hérault river, unless it needs reserving in advance, or go for a picnic at the Pont d'Issensac again (cheaper) and just splash about in the river. Decisions decisions.

We have achieved something this week. I took my youngest and a friend to the pick-your-own at Caillan (one hour before closing!) and managed to pick enough red fruit and tomatoes to make red fruit jam (2.1 pots), a summer pudding (yet to be made when I get the right bread) and some tasty tomato salads. What with the péage it wasn't exactly a super economical trip, but it was fun and had the bonus of a tasty result. The jam we made turned out fine, miraculously as it was mixed fruit, and my youngest has been putting it on everything from bread to pancakes. The only bé-mol as they say here was that I slashed my thumb open on the ecologically-sound recyclable paniers and have been trying not to reopen it continually since.

Ideas for the weekend on a postcard please!

Ruined Castle Hols in Lozere

We've just come back from a week's camping (in a chalet) at the Lac de Villefort an hour or so north of Alès. The best bit about the chalet was the all-in-one hob-oven-dishwasher. Yes, a dishwasher! Luxury!! The other best bit was the view (or vice versa):

View from chalet over Lac de Villefort

I think you'll agree that that's pretty stupendous. The camping is practically invisible from the other side of the lake (hint, the blue stripe bottom left is the swimming pool).

Spot the campsite

We visited, or rather saw, several castles. We were not able to visit all of them - this one, the Chateau du Cheylard at Aujac because it was closed on Mondays, and we didn't notice this important piece of information on the board at the bottom until we'd climbed a couple of kilometres in 32°C heat to find the closed gate and another notice.

Chateau Cheylard, Aujac

This one, the Chateau Bresis because it's on private land and although we were told that theoretically no one can stop us visiting an historic monument, we decided not to bother trying just in case the owner came rushing out wielding a shotgun...

Chateau Bresis

We got to this one, the Chateau de Castanet a bit late in the day and decided not to hang about mainly because it was not a ruin and my boys greatly prefer clambering over old stones than looking at rooms of furniture and exhibitions, and also because it was windy and pretty nippy out, and the car was a lot more inviting.

Chateau Castanet

I discovered that on the map there are a number of symbols for castles. The most promising ones for us indicate a decent ruin in a triangle of three black circles. A totally ruined ruin has a triangle of white circles and, from experience, is so ruined that it's little more than a pile of stones. Inhabited castles come in the shape of a rectangle with little lines poking out of each corner.

La Garde Guerin offered a good mixture of ruins and restored buildings - this photo was taken from the top of a very windy tower.

La Garde Guerin

We ended our castles visiting with the Chateau d'Allègre where they were having a medieval fair, with the usual armour and weapons displays. My youngest tried on a couple of helmets and wielded a heavy sword for effect.

Chateau d'Allègre

The van in the background rather spoils the effect but you get the idea. They were still setting up in fact, hence the general lack of activity.

We didn't just drive about looking for castles, however. We also did some sporty activities which I'll keep for another post. I think you'll agree that we got a good dose of castles on this holiday!

Chaotic Events

Figure this one out if you can. My son came home on Wednesday with the dossier to register him at the lycée. I had been told this would have to be done during the first week of July.

In the dossier was a slip of paper saying that registration for the collège was open on Thursday of last week between 1pm and 6pm only. This I ignored. We toddled along to the lycée yesterday afternoon with newly taken photos, photocopy of divorce jugement, RIB, cheque, uncle Tom Cobbly and all. You might wonder why they need all that. I do too, and what business is it of theirs to have the WHOLE legal document concerning my divorce?

Anyway, we get there, find the right room and get told, 'You're late, you should have done this last Friday'. Friday? Where does Friday come into it? Either I got the wrong slip of paper or they're making it up as they go along. It didn't matter in the end so I'm not sure what all the fuss was about, why they handed out slips of paper with the wrong information, or why I was told we could register any time this week.

We were surprised that my son has not been accepted onto the European Section for English considering he's bilingual, but he may be able to change that at the Rentrée. He was hoping for some easy points at the BAC so was a bit miffed.

That was the second chaotic event of the day.

The first preceded it by little. My friend DRK (not DSK the 'rutting chimpanzee', no) was to receive an award, l'Etoile Européenne du Développement Civil & Militaire presented by Anh Dao Traxel (daughter of Jacques and Bernadette Chirac) and president of the association. A Big Thing quoi.

I was invited to participate at this event which was going on at the Institut Saint Pierre at Palavas, supposedly from 2-4pm. You would think an event like this would be organised properly, wouldn't you? Staff would know where to send guests, it would start on time and the event would be a credit to the institution.

Well, it wasn't like that at all. I arrived at 2pm and waited around with a group of guests in the hospital lobby. Some member of staff who obviously hadn't a clue what was going on then ushered us into some sort of games room where kids (patients) were playing table soccer, billiards and so on. Staff members started dragging out a dozen or so chairs shooing kids off while we stood around thinking it all looked a bit inadequate for the numbers.

Then a guy who knew what was going on told us we were in the wrong place (surprise surprise) and were supposed to be in the main hall. Off we trotted after him to the hall where a number of children were already in place and waiting for us.

Anh Dao had arrived by this time of course so there was much picture-taking and time taken up introducing the main players. At 2.45pm it finally got going. It began not with anyone introducing anything or thanking us for coming - you know, usual stuff - but with 3 comediennes who just started up some sort of slapstick entertainment for the kids. Goodness knows how long they were going to go on for. I had to leave at 3pm to register my son at lycée so didn't get to see my friend be decorated or anything else. I did manage to have a jolly chat with friends and people I know, but I could have done that any time.

If I HAD  KNOWN that the ceremony would be nearer 4pm than 2pm I could have gone to the lycée first. We had tried to get the programme from the local organiser, but to no avail. He just said '2-4pm'.

I must say, it really annoys me when an event is so badly organised I miss the action, and I wasn't the only one who had to leave. Not many people can devote 2 elastic hours on a Monday afternoon to one non work-related event. I was off yesterday because Independence Day is a holiday for the company I work for, but I spent the morning at the doctor's and X-ray clinic (my youngest had a close encounter on his bike with a tree branch on Saturday and hurt his clavicle - no fracture, luckily!), and had a number of things to do in the afternoon too. Bizarrely, the last time Anh Dao came to Palavas back in March the same organisers had prepared a tight schedule.

So there we have it. Why organise something properly when you can do it chaotically, keep everyone guessing and annoy the hell out of a whole bunch of people! What fun!

Summer Hols

Today is the end of the school year and my eldest took himself off to Toulouse for the weekend. Not without a last minute panic of 'mum, I need a cozzie for the swimming pool, can we go to Intersport?'. No, we couldn't go to Intersport. It was either we go to Intersport and get a cozzie and miss the train or get on the train minus cozzie. When put to him, he voted for the latter but I think he secretly he believed he had time to do both. He is his father's son.

I took out €20 so he could buy a sodding cozzie at the pool (they often have a self-service of cozzies, ear plugs, goggles, swimming caps and other useful objects to buy in a machine that looks like it usually dispenses cans of Coke, packets of crisps and Twixt bars), and pay for the entrance. The cost of his jaunt has now gone up to €60. It is his end of year pressie for getting through and being accepted for lycée. I won't say he managed this 'gloriously' because that would be too far from the truth to be credible. No, I think 'stumbled through despite all the odds because he was too lazy to move his arse' would be pinpoint it more accurately. He maintains his Brevet is 'dans la poche' (except maths) though, so we'll see...

I dropped him off at the tram station and left him to it. He seems quite capable of negotiating his way around train stations, including Gare de Lyon, so I declined from driving him through the ghastly traffic and road works to the station when he is quite able of getting there himself on the tram, finding the right train and his seat.

I suppose it's a rite of passage, this - end of collège, bid for independence and freedom. He's looking forward to a month of July full of his mates, sleeping at other people's houses, having friends sleep at ours, swimming in the river, dossing about and eating as much bread and Nutella and pipa (sunflower seeds) as he can. Heady days.

I have a plan to get him to manage his bread eating habits himself. I'm going to teach him how to make soda bread which is ridiculously easy, and then he can whip up a batch in less than an hour and be stuffing his face while I'm peacefully oblivious at work.

We will also be heading off on holiday, camping in a chalet near Villefort in Lozère. It is camping de luxe with air con and a dishwasher. Mum's on holiday too! The boys love camp sites what with their pools, activities and night-time entertainment, potential friends and space to do nothing in particular. The chalet even has an oven so we'll be able to make soda bread there too. Buying endless baguettes gets very expensive.

Camping le Lac, Morangies

I'm looking forward to it. We usually go to the UK but this year I had to maintain the car which ate up all the travel money (and some) so it's up the road for us on the edge of a stunning reservoir surrounded by pine-covered hills, a dam, viaduct, and bridge - all very dramatic.

Meanwhile, my youngest is looking forward to being an only child for the weekend and take charge of the tele remote, the best spot on the sofa and not sharing anything.

I can already feel the stresses of the school year start to melt away. Long live the summer!