Time for Summer Uniform?
Do the French Have a Murphy’s Law?
Does anyone know? Or, sod’s law if you prefer.
It is just that, with some 3-weeks unbroken sunshine with no rain, I was idlly contemplating, over a cold beaded one on the Voyageurs terrace, whether or not to change over to summer uniform.
These things tended to be strictly regimented in, well… the regiment, but with the passing of time, the old memory plays tricks and, whilst I remember that (back in the day) you had to change into wooly-pully order on October 15th, I cannot for the life of me remember when you had to change into shirt-sleeve order.
Lingua Franca
What’s he going on about, I sense you thinking. Well, it just does not do to stand out in a crowd, you know. After 5 years here, people are only just seeing past the red (well, its grey now, of course) hair and freckles and choose French as the first language they try on me when asking where to park, where the nearest pharmacy is… or the way to Amarillo or whatever. Now I say French is the first language they try, but then, of course, as that is the only language they can muster, what I really mean is, that the French have gradually begun to take me, if not as one of their own, then some Brit bloke they know can speak a few words of their lingua-franca, if you see what I mean.
Camouflage
Not that I have gone native. God forbid. I will never, ever, put coca-cola into Scotch nor peach cordial into lager! No, I put this new found acceptance down to dressing like their country-selves, usually with stuff from the LeClerc sale racks. Camouflage, you see. And it works. Hence the “he’s dressed like us, so he must talk like us” mindset of the locals.
Now if I suddenly go into summer uniform, then I could well blow the camouflage, if the locals are all still wearing wooly pulleys. Another thing. What will happen if I suddenly pitch-up in downtown St. Céré in shorts, a Charles Tyrwhitt short sleeve and boat shoes (my Parsons Green camouflage, actually – next time you drive past the White Horse on a sunny Sunday lunchtime, you will see what I mean), all ready for a cold one and I am the only one dressed like that.
Another thing… and this is the real worry here and not a fear of offending French sensibilities by my (lack of?) dress sense. It is just that I know, as sure as oeufs is oeufs, that the day I change it will #rain!!!
That’s why I want to know if the French have a Murphy’s law!
I dont think Kieth knows Chris too well,he always dresses like an Oxfam sale ( Summer and Winter )and Never Never sips iced tea.
If its not in a demi vere its not for Chris.
And stop moaning people, we in Scotland are nice and warm now and have been for weeks,but the Horizontal rain is becoming a pain now.
Oh how i miss those days at the cafe 5.
Ah, there’s the rub! Here in St Binne – not too far from St Céré – you can tell the difference between the real locals and the British invasion force. The real locals rarely acknowledge that it ever gets warm; I suppose they have spent their entire lifetime ‘getting used to it’. So 110 degrees in the shade – sorry, 37 degrees – and the invasion force musters in tropical drill, white knees to the fore and skimpy tee-shirts attempting to cover les bellés grand whilst the real locals remain in woolly-pully mode. LeClerc attempts to persuade them to change into Bermuda shorts but they are having none of it – assez bon pour mon père, si assez bon pour moi! End result is that after the fourteenth consecutive day of equatorial heat the locals are dropping like flies and the invasion force has resorted to Pimms on the terrace still revealing the (by now) bright red flesh so rarely seen in Blighty. Don’t let on to them, it is less dramatic than Agincout but much more effective, and by the time Blighty sinks into oblivion France will be ours and we can stop attempting to adopt the lingua-franca and start ordering the chemicals for the swimming pool in l’anglais del la reine. Vive l’invasion!
Now 10th June and STILL not in summer uniform! Non-stop rain only just stopped this morning. Still chilly in the wind and we lit the woodburner last night.
This is just SO not funny!
I just re-read that last comment I made some 30 days ago. I hate to tell you this, but I am not only still in wooly-pully order, but have now burnt through next November’s logs!
It has been pretty much non-stop rain and cold… oh, with the odd thunderstorm thrown-in. What a dreadful Spring.
Ou est le soleil???????????
OK it’s true. There is a Monsieur Murphy. Dug out the shorts. It has rained ever since!
Still warm, though, we did light the woodburner this evening. Probably for the last time until December.
J’espere
I know the feeling. When we had a few days of warm weather I was undecided whether to leave off the wooly pully, but I thought Spring has sprung so I took it off.
Big mistake! The weather turned cold almost instantly, so back on it went. Next day the weather turned mild again so I put it away again, and now there is a bitter cold north wind so it came out of the wardrobe again.
It’s alright for you in St Céré, it’s always mild there; well most of the time anyway! I bet that as you read this on your laptop you are sitting in the sun outside Café 5 Cere in your T-Shirt and sipping iced tea.