Saturday, 26 July 2008

A couple of thoughts on English and French things

First a little rant ("What?" I hear you cry, "that's just so unlike you Hamish"); then an "Ah-ha, told you so" moment.

So, to begin with, apparently, 'they' are going to ban a couple of fine British traditions. Can it really be true that dustcarts can no longer display rescued cuddly toys on the radiator grille? And what's this about ice cream vans?

My beloved brother has been heard to suggest that he would like to move to India, or Goa, or somewhere, to live out his retirement in peace from the infernal regulators, 'health & safety' vigilantes and sundry other do-gooders with which our country is increasingly afflicted. For goodness' sake don't mention these latest ridiculous ideas to him, or he'll book the bloody ticket, and that'll be the last we ever see of him. Seriously.

Incidentally, despite exhaustive searching on t'internet, I can't find any references to the dustcart story, so maybe it's just an urban myth (allegedly the ban would be because children could be run over trying to prise a teddy bear off the front of the vehicle) but of course if you know better, let me know.

Once upon a long ago I lived in Paris, and naturally as a family we bought, daily, what I now refer to awkwardly as "French sticks", but which then I just knew as baguettes. There were, essentially, two styles: the baton, which was very long and thin, and another which I have been certain for as long as I can recall, was referred to as a batard. But since returning from France at the age of seven or so, any grown-up I have mentioned this to has insisted, shocked, that batard is a very rude word and could not possibly have been a loaf of bread. (Bâtard is indeed French for bastard.)

So, gentle reader, imagine my delight when I examined closely a photograph in the July edition of Waitrose Food Illustrated, the upmarket supermarket's monthly glossy magazine. Accompanying an unashamedly evocative article entitled C'est la vie is a picture of the price board (prix de vente du pain) presumably outside a boulangerie, clearly showing listed a Pain "Batard" de 300 grammes at FF3,80, along with other products including Baguettes de 300 grammes at FF4,00.

So there. Do you think Waitrose will mind if I scan the pic and post it here? I might do...


I have just looked up batard in the Collins-Robert French-English dictionary I have had since the sixth form, and it suggests, as well as the common, vulgar, meaning, that it also has the bread-based translation of "Vienna roll", whatever one of those is. Hmmm...

Tuesday, 22 July 2008

What a plonker

Have you ever popped a bottle of room-temperature beer into the freezer 'just for a few minutes' to chill, but then forgotten about it? I did the other day...

Saturday, 5 July 2008

A bit of a catch-up


Enormous erection
A couple of weeks ago whilst travelling across-country, I found myself unexpectedly right underneath the Emley Moor transmitter in West Yorkshire. Wow, it's impressive! I mean, I've seen it many times before, of course, across tens of miles of countryside, as the telecommunications beacon it surely is. But it's taller than the Eiffel Tower, you know?


Steve's birthday
The Friday of Steve's birthday we both had the day off and went down to Salisbury, where we ate at The Lemon Tree. Very pleasant, and I wouldn't hesitate to reccommend it. On the Saturday, as Steve's Birthday Treat, we went to the cinema to watch the new Indiana Jones film. The Odeon in the New Canal is, architecturally, a very interseting building, but sadly the main screen has a disappointing sound set-up. Of course we don't want a huge multiplex on the outskirts to destroy the character of the town centre, and I am looking forward to seeing many more films at the Odeon, but perhaps for the must-see blockbusters a trip down to Southampton may have to be arranged.


Burly Chassis
On the way home on Sunday evening we came across a beautiful silver Aston Martin DB5 on the M25 (this was the car Sean Connery's James Bond drove in Goldfinger and Thunderball, in the mid-sixties). With slowish traffic across four or five lanes Steve was able to get into various positions for me to try and take some pictures, the best of which is reproduced here. Click on it for a larger version and you'll be able to see the two passengers are grinning at me!

Bibulous
Wednesday last week to Imbibe in Blackfriars for a pub quiz in aid of a number of charities, organised by Steve's indefatigable fund-raising colleague Simon. Great fun, and a slightly bizarre mystery-tour lift home afterwards with another colleague.

House move latest:
Still waiting.


Wooo-eeee-oooo

Last Saturday was the first of the two-parter Doctor Who season finale. Steve was, to put it mildly, captivated by the unfolding storyline - as you can see!

Health news
In Monday's Times was a story about the NHS, and the accompanying photo had this caption: "Aneira Thomas, pictured at the age of 4, was named for Aneurin Bevin". Dear Times, please please do not Americanise the term "named after". I know that "named for" makes exactly as much sense, and moreover is perfectly comprehensible to every reader, but come on.

Clarkson said it, too, in the report on the Mercerdes, filmed in the Black Hills in Wales, in the second Top Gear in the new series.

Incidentally, reading the newspaper story I learned that the 1.5 million employees of the NHS are exceeded only by the Chinese People's Liberation Army, Wal-Mart, and Indian Railways.

One year on
The 1st of July saw the first anniversary of the smoking ban in England, in case you missed it. Or cared.