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!

Famous Author Cramp

Picture this scenario: NG discovers aufeminin.com and starts writing a blog. She describes her extraordinary childhood, her family, her move to France to study, meeting her husband, how her husband dumped her unceremoniously on her 60th birthday leaving her practically destitute and how she pieced together a new life discovering a previously unknown world of unpleasant realities.

Her blog is greatly enjoyed by other aufeminin blog readers who are entertained by her style, her way of telling a story and her descriptions of an unusual life. One of them is a 'famous author' (her description) whose husband is the publisher of her books. It's a family business, publishing around 5 books a year. They approached NG and asked her if they could work together and produce a book of her texts. What a wonderful prospect, thought NG and agreed readily although she laid down certain rules of engagement: nothing about her illness, nothing about her doctors, nothing about her living family.

The 'famous author' took NG's texts off the blog and worked them into a book format. She ignored all the rules, added several typos that were not in the original texts and prepared a mish mash of non-chronological order. Then she plastered her name in big on the front cover and placed NG's name as an afterthought further down "based on texts by NG".

You can imagine how well this went down. The 'famous author' and her husband came down from the depths of somewhere obscure (where she's well-known) called Touraine (definitely north of Avignon) to discuss the manuscript before the final version. When NG saw it she had a fit of the vapours on the spot.

To start with, she nearly died of boredom before the end of the third page. FA had reworked everything to make it 'literary' which was rather against the point of the book as NG is not French and has no aspirations to becoming a literary great (unlike poor deluded FA). She wanted the book to contain her words in her style minus the obvious errors and typos. What she got was her stories minus all humour and eccentricity but Frenchified up.

She took the manuscript and edited it all, repeated her instructions, and sent them off with their tails between their legs. So, what do you imagine they did? a) nothing; b) total edit; c) token modifications? If you guessed c), give yourself a peanut and bow to the gallery. They changed my name from puke-worthy 'ma petite fille de coeur' to 'E.D.' (extended daughter), as requested, and... um... added a few more errors - 'Barbour' became 'Barbouze' and 'lave vaisselle' became 'laisse vaisselle'. Then they sat on the text hoping that NG wouldn't press them to see the Bonne à Tirer (BAT - final version) and it could be printed as was.

Does the term 'bunch of amateurs' spring to mind? It certainly did to me and to NG who never does anything in an amateur way. Eventually, and when the manuscript was already at the printer's, they finally sent the text to NG. They were in fact obliged to because NG had to sign off on it or they'd be landed in Big Legal Trouble.

When she saw this supposed final version, her blood pressure made a quick circuit to the moon and back, and she had hysterics on the spot. They had respected none of her instructions. She decided that publishing the book in it's existing form was out of the question, so she cancelled the launch at the big local bookshop in Montpellier and the party at l'hotel Verchant.

The famous author and her husband were most put out and couldn't understand what she was making so much fuss about. I have a message from her where she complains about all the hard work she's put into 'her' book and how unreasonable NG is being. I didn't bother to reply, there's simply no telling some people. I saw the text - in 200 pages there are 600 spelling mistakes and errors, and the order is still a mess - no chronology at all.

So this is my take on the situation. FA is an attention-seeking, over-indulged diva-of-a-certain-age with an inflated opinion of herself. She is one of the most active members of aufeminin.com blogs and enjoys bathing in the glory of her readers' admiration. Her books are as boring as hell according to NG who was sent them and felt obliged to read them. Never was a duty so tedious. They involve lots of 'poor me' self-obsession and turgid introspection.

In order to cover herself with more glory and have access to an even wider potential audience thanks to NG who is not unknown in these parts, she thought she'd 'write another book' using NG's stories but castrating them into her own tortured 'literary' style. She would declare herself the author ('famous'), publishing her book 'based on the texts of NG'.

Unfortunately for her, NG doesn't do amateur rubbish and refused to sign her name to the crap issuing forth from the literary backside of the 'gentil' author, sweet FA. So it's all come tumbling down - NG got them to suggest postponing publication until November and maybe even wriggling out of the contract and trying a different publisher. One is already interested.

Warning: don't mess with NG.

Verchant Spa - the Opening

I already thought the Hotel Verchant was practically perfect, but last night I discovered it was even more practically perfect because it now has a brandy new sparkling Spa. The word 'spa' conjures up delicious associations of pampering, well-being, luxury, and bodily ecstasy. I was therefore seriously committed to the idea of attending the opening of the Verchant Spa and was delighted when my invitation plopped into my letterbox.

I went with my TWDB and a small group of pals; the boys were safely home creating mayhem in the kitchen with the babysitter. We were welcomed into the hotel's function room with a freshly squeezed fruit juice and the programme. A healthy start. They were keeping the champagne for later, obviously...

We went on a tour of the Spa which had been specially decorated with loads of candles and rose petals everywhere to enhance the smoochy atmosphere. My initial impression upon leaving the lift down was very positive - a good sign. You move into an ambiance of soft colours, noble materials such as pale marble, and that unmistakable feel of luxury.

We were invited to poke our noses into all the treatment rooms, kitted out as they are with the latest in high-tec spa equipment, and were introduced to the coach in the gym who also has all the trendiest gym machines of torture including the vibrating one.

The most impressive feature for me, was the pool. It was decorated on that day with candles sitting on huge lily leaves floating in strategic spots. When turned on however, the water apparently rises a little to flow over the stones which line the edge all the way round. On the wall at the far end is a mosaic which covers the entire surface depicting a local scene, the quality of which is representative of the overall quality of the Spa.

There is a VIP room which you can hire à deux where you can enjoy your treatments in the privacy of your own area. Ng was commissioned to do a painting for this room and it greets you as you walk in - a lovely soft-coloured painting depicting a deserted beach and a gentle sea. Verchant's owner, Pierre Mestre was delighted with it.

The Spa lures you, makes you want to stay and be pampered, to be swathed in essential oils and delicious-smelling creams and potions, massaged, de-stressed and de-toxed. It's an exclusive club, open to hotel patrons and a limited number of Spa members which of course makes it even more desirable.

It was only the prospect of a buffet by Didier Germain that made me leave that haven of peace and tranquility, and the arrival of the next set of visitors. We went back up the greeny glass steps to reality and non-requited muscle strain into the welcome embrace of skewered scallops and fresh oysters. Oh, and gallons of Veuve Cliquot.

The party was fabulous, the buffet divine, as ever, and the champagne copious. There were even fireworks.

My TWDB is now contemplating becoming a member of the Spa. I'm encouraging him, like mad.

Oriental by DRK

This painting is called 'Oriental', painted by Diane Rauscher-Kennedy, and is up for auction next week. It was chosen by the French auction house 'Drouot' as part of their upcoming contemporary art sale.

As you can see, it's rather a dramatic work, with a swish of movement and bold use of colour. The photo does not do it justice, as you can imagine.

You can see it online at the Gersaint website, and if it's crying out to you 'Buy me Buy me!!', then rest assured that you can! Isn't that good news?! But you'll have to move fast as the sale finishes on September 30.

Diane is already on Artprice, and her latest project is to provide a painting for the private VIP area of the ****Hotel Verchant's new spa which should be opening this year.

St Bloggie is proud to present this shameless plug for fab artist, fab friend and extended mother.