PUZZLED? CLICK HERE explains the rationale of this blog, upgraded since it was first penned, some ten years ago (it is now April 2026). Further down, after the waffle on this page there are simple instructions on how to get about the various postings and waste even more of your time . . .
WE'VE BEEN COMING TO FRANCE for more than forty years, Mary, longer than that. We know some of it very well, a lot of it slightly, and a load more only slightly or not at all. We used to rely on our memories and an archive of transparencies (pre digital) to keep tabs of what we saw, where we went, where we stayed etc. After finishing with the business of earning salaries, wages, and having dispensed with camping en route to and from the holiday houses we rented, we preferred to acquire our own base down in the Vaucluse; we had more time out there and had a bit of fun recording the odd and not-so-odd things we did/saw/experienced thereabouts. Digitally. We finally sold our house in Vaucluse in 2025 and have begun to experience France more as tourists again – but with a considerable history of visiting behind us now, to inform us: at my last reckoning, we've crossed over to France eighty-five times together… it must count for something…
This blog: it is for fun. No great intellectual mountain is being attempted here. I can't just let our perambulations wash over us without making some comment, as the mood takes me. You might conclude it is verging on infantile, simplistic, childish even. That's OK, I am probably well into my second childhood or may be even my third; you can always quit and get on with some more serious stuff, I'll not take offence (well not much). I like doing it and the principle person I do it for is: (you've guessed it) ME. I didn't have the benefit of a university education either, I'm just art school trash, so expectations should be adjusted accordingly.
Originally Mary (aka Mme Melling in my posts) started a blog when we were looking to buy in France, kept it up, and then got me at it: she clearly enjoys making a report on what we do and see, admittedly sometimes spitting tacks over it – and each trip out declaring that this blog would be the last . . . so with her guidance, advice and shoving – here it is; make of it what you will.
Of course, whilst both wife and the son-and-heir have a full and comprehensive grasp of the language, not to mention a deep and constantly expanding engagement with all things french, your correspondent remains somewhat puzzled and confused.
So that's my angle really, I mean, where the hell are we, and what the devil is going on? Why are they doing that? Who built this and when? What is the point of that?
In fact, driving on the right.
IMPORTANT GUIDANCE
The posts are listed on the right, see, the latest first.
The number by the month indicates how many posts for that month and their titles will show if you click on the name of the month. You will soon get the knack.
Click on images to get them up bigger. Or pass over them and click on the appropiate flickr link if one has been provided.
I like driving on the right. As an activity. We like it. Seems natural. Like France. It's different. Surprising, pleasing, and sometimes utterly harebrained— all exaggerated, confused, coloured for me by my lack of a grasp of the language. Disgraceful. I lean heavily in all matters negotiable upon my good woman who handles all such issues with consummate ease. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here at all.
And don't tell me I will pick it up in time, damn it. I haven't and it's too late now, it won't happen (I blame my school). Which is why this blog is in English! Re brexit: I voted to remain . . . seems that was the kiss of death!
Originally Mary (aka Mme Melling in my posts) started a blog when we were looking to buy in France, kept it up, and then got me at it: she clearly enjoys making a report on what we do and see, admittedly sometimes spitting tacks over it – and each trip out declaring that this blog would be the last . . . so with her guidance, advice and shoving – here it is; make of it what you will.
Of course, whilst both wife and the son-and-heir have a full and comprehensive grasp of the language, not to mention a deep and constantly expanding engagement with all things french, your correspondent remains somewhat puzzled and confused.
So that's my angle really, I mean, where the hell are we, and what the devil is going on? Why are they doing that? Who built this and when? What is the point of that?
In fact, driving on the right.
IMPORTANT GUIDANCE
The posts are listed on the right, see, the latest first.
The number by the month indicates how many posts for that month and their titles will show if you click on the name of the month. You will soon get the knack.
Click on images to get them up bigger. Or pass over them and click on the appropiate flickr link if one has been provided.
I like driving on the right. As an activity. We like it. Seems natural. Like France. It's different. Surprising, pleasing, and sometimes utterly harebrained— all exaggerated, confused, coloured for me by my lack of a grasp of the language. Disgraceful. I lean heavily in all matters negotiable upon my good woman who handles all such issues with consummate ease. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here at all.
And don't tell me I will pick it up in time, damn it. I haven't and it's too late now, it won't happen (I blame my school). Which is why this blog is in English! Re brexit: I voted to remain . . . seems that was the kiss of death!
