PLV vs ODP

There's a real dilemma brewing for tonight.

Do I watch Poubelle la Vie, or Our Dear Prez? It's a tricky one for sure.

On the one hand PlV is dead exciting with the dénouement of one of the stories about to unfold, and on the other we have ODP Sarko who will be attempting to explain to the nation his ideas to save the country from rack and ruin.

Many on the loony left are calling for us all to boycott the programme which is on at 8.15pm (same time as PlV). I'm not quite sure what logic they are using for this. How can you criticise a set of ideas if you refuse to listen to them in the first place? They really are very stupid and, themselves, barely worth listening to, so I will not boycott the programme.

I may choose not to watch it, but then I like Sarko so he'll be preaching to the converted. I can also read a summary of it all in Figaro tomorrow instead of sitting through 90mins of policitican-speak. Thus leaving me free to see whether Bruno, making a run for it, gets gunned down by his racketeer uncle and dies in the arms of his lover Thomas (PlV = media trendy lefty series par excellence...).

I highly disapprove of the left at the moment in France. They seem incapable of accepting that they LOST the last election. This is especially true of Sego Royale, the loser, who cannot, either, accept that she lost the election to be big boss of the PS (Partie Socialiste). Their playground antics are a terribly poor show by those who would be in power and lead the nation, God forbid.

Personally, in hard times, I think the nation should rally behind the one(s) in charge and do their best to support the decisions made, as long as those decisions are based on proper consultation. Sabotaging all efforts to make reforms and find solutions to problems will not resolve the crisis any quicker. On the contrary, the nation will just sink even faster even deeper. And when we're on our knees outside under 10cm of snow, the left will still be quibbling about petty internal party issues and calling for poor Bernard Kouchner's head.

Who on earth votes left?

Snowbell la Vie

It's been quite a start to the year.

A week of galettes des rois at work, snow, freezing temperatures and the beginning of the sales. I'm hoping it calms down a bit now because too much excitement will have us all a bundle of nerves by February.

I'm not a great fan of frangipan - the filling used for classic galettes. If it's made industrially, it has heavy overtones of almond essence, which I hate, and a sickly, greasy texture. The one we had yesterday had homemade filling, no almond essence, and a much nuttier taste. The pastry was crisp and light too. That's what I call a galette des rois.

On Wednesday, I took my eldest to the sales to buy clothes and shoes. It happened to be the afternoon that it started snowing too. We decided to make it a military operation - in and out in as little time as possible. He made a list of what he wanted - jeans, Converse-type shoes, jacket - and said that the 2 Halles (clothes and shoes) would do fine.

Surprisingly, it was not very crowded in either shop. He found shoes in 2 minutes, tried them on, liked them, and we were third in the queue to pay. No beating our way through heavy bodies blocking aisles, tripping over small children on the floor, crashing into bigger boys running about the shop, or fighting off competition for the right size shoe. Chrono - ten minutes, thirty euros.

Next door in the clothes shop all the jeans in the sale were conveniently placed on one rack with their 50% off labels flapping enticingly. Three pairs were deemed wearable, on trying them, one was discarded; a sweat jacket and belt were picked out and we joined a queue.

I'm not sure the average IQ level in the queue reached much over 2.3 because there were in fact, three queues. One had a long line of people, one had two, and the last had about 5. What's more, the first queue had a woman at the head who was buying armfuls of stuff, and then found she couldn't pay for it all, so it was taking forever. We joined the shortest queue and were finished while the other woman was still trying to decide what she wanted to buy out of the pile of stuff she'd collected. Chrono - fifteen minutes, fifty euros.

It was now snowing pretty hard and my eldest was making hopeful noises about it blocking roads so he wouldn't have to go to school the next day. Unfortunately for him, it didn't last, and had nearly all gone by the next morning. Unlike Marseille where they were under 20cm and the whole city was brought to a standstill. Strangely, there wasn't a flake to be seen in 'Poubelle la Vie', my favourite French tele series and must-see nightly viewing. Just goes to show it isn't quite as reactive to events as 'The Archers'...

But we forgive all because Roland hasn't been gunned down in cold blood by the reluctant mafiosi, Bruno, and so maybe Mélanie will go to the ball (her wedding) after all. Fingers across the length and breadth of the country are crossed, defying all social strata and level of neurone activity.

We are blue, not with cold, but with bated breath!