This has been the busiest weekend since records began (they began last weekend), with hardly any time for loafing, lazing or even dozing. On Friday we went to a restaurant to celebrate my sister-in laws birthday, On Saturday, we went to see a comedian, Jason Manford (from 8 out of 10 cats) and this afternoon we’ve had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon at the World Squash Championships in Manchesters very own Sports City.

The meal was delicious, alcoholic and fattening. The Comedian was funny without making me wee with laughter and the squash championships were tiring just to watch and made me despair at the standard of my own game.

Work is incredibly busy despite the continued downturn in everything you can possibly think of and I’ve hardly had any quality Alan time whatsoever. As a result I’ve already started mental plans for a fishing extravaganza in the near future which needs to involve lots of sitting down, barely perceptible movement and if possible a couple of large fish but not too many fish as that might prove a bit too strenuous. If my fishing partner Paul is reading this then he might want to help me plan this trip as I barely have the energy left to implement it.

Plans are also in a more advanced stage with regards to our New year holiday in France and we are now intending to leave for France as soon as the turkey is digested on Boxing day and will arrive some time on Boxing day night, hopefully just in time for the annual screening of the Great Escape.

We are nearly there with having our Central Heating fixed thanks to Julie who helps us co-ordinate French activity and we hope to have this particular activity sorted in the next week or so. When we decided to have our gas tank relocated from above ground to below ground, we had no idea that this would turn into a 24 stage project which has cost us a heap of money and a load of hassle. Still as long as we’re warm at Xmas…….

She is also trying to source some wood to be delivered which is proving a challenge. Anyone who has spent any time in the Limousin will know that the one thing that seems to be in abundant supply is wood. Every house you pass seems to have heaps of the stuff piled up outside. However, any enquiry to buy some seems to be greeted with a sucking of the teeth and mumbles about there not being much available. Its like some kind of underground illicit industry to which we are not granted access. Maybe I don’t look ‘Woody’ enough, perhaps it’s a privilege granted only to those that live in France full time. If that’s the case then I thoroughly look forward to not selling any wood to anyone once we move there and I’ve already started practising sucking my teeth and adopting the pained expression that accompanies any wood-like advances.

My in-laws – Pat and Fred are heading over to France in November to fit some internal doors and help make our house look more homely (and warm) for when our guests arrive over Christmas. We are also planning to have the rendering (How do you spell Creppying?) done in the next few weeks which will completely seal our barn to the Limousin weather whilst we ride the financial roller coaster here in the UK and can afford to complete the renovation.

Please note: The absence of any image, photo or cartoon this week is entirely due to me being unable to compete with Kevins photo yesterday of a naked Phil Jupitus trapped inside a box thus rendering all other subsequent photo submissions sub-standard.

I have been making some CDs for my friend Ray at whose house we are staying in a couple of weeks time when we head back to the UK for the wedding of Stuart, one of my business partners in the (mighty) DrawBox, or as Helen prefers it, with her gift for social Tourettes, DwarfBox (I have just put dwarfbox into Google, as you do, and I have found this picture below - blame Helen). His musical taste is interestingly both Catholic and shit. Despite the fact that I have turned him on (man) to the joys of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and The Archie Bronson Outfit, he still occasionally veers uncontrollably towards Captain Beefheart and 70s Italian prog rock giants (I nearly typed gonads then) PFM. All this is to explain the choice of this week’s musical interlude, from Sheffield the poppy, catchy Slow Club, which is one of the CDs I am giving him – fascinating.

No mention this week of the US elections after the overwhelming wall of opprobrium heaped upon me after last week’s exegesis (Robin, whoever you are, I hope you’re happy now). Instead, back to the minutiae of my day to day existence, truly what a blog should be. Orders for DrawBox are starting to trickle in after the hiring of our astounding new sales director, we currently have around £17,500 worth of invoices outstanding waiting to be paid, which, by a happy coincidence, is almost exactly the amount we owe to all our creditors, as Helen and Matt both point out, in today’s business climate this represents a shit hot business model.

Apart from that it has been a quiet week with a very nice picnic in the sunshine at a nearby lake last weekend –see below…. verily, ‘tis shroom season.

The other main news of the week was my weekly golf game with Matt, proud possessor of a new set of clubs. Obviously I let this do my precarious head in, and played as badly as I have ever played, finally succumbing with a wheeze and a whimper to a miserable twelve shot defeat – I won’t embarrass either of us by writing down the scores in human words, suffice to say, Seve Ballesteros would have beaten both of us whilst strapped to his hospital bed with a scalpel in his head.

I have just been informed by my good lady wife that the new Bond girl, Gemma Arterton (see picture right), is the niece of Wreckless Eric who lives in the next village, truly the Limousin is the new Rodeo drive wherein we find ourselves constantly tripping over celebrities.

Finally can I just say - what an extraordinary choice of wedding dress

Friday night - so a short blog. If anyone feels a huge (or in fact any sized) desire to write something of a Friday evening and thinks that they can commit to more than a couple of weeks before getting writer’s block then please get in touch.

This morning was spent doing pricing/plans for Dutch Donald who wants his new build up asap. He was put in touch with Dig-It via an estate agent who has one of our houses on her books and who phoned to see if Matt would be interested in doing the foundations for a wooden house. He went to see the site and had a look at the plans, for a wooden framed/cladded house, to be built and completely finished by a team of Poles in 6-8 weeks….for 67 000€! Fantastic on paper….until you realise that those are plans for a three bedroomed house and it has to one of the worst designed houses ever committed to paper.

Talking of builders ( did anyone see the programme last night with the Samantha Janus lookalike dissing Jarek?) I for one think the Poles are great and am not out to do them down …but 3 bedrooms in 65m² of wooden house…and this in the Limousin where space isn’t exactly at a premium!

Anyway I’m sure I could go on but Have I got news for you is on in 10 mins and it’s chestnut picking again tomorrow from 9am – 12am before an afternoon of football to be followed by the piece de la resistance which is Harry Hill’s TV Burp comeback tomorrow night and Matt’s duck supper…..autumn has arrived ….in proper style.

Well I bit the bullet and contacted David ( as in Ginola). He came over at 10.15am and having managed to re establish the WIFI on the laptop was hailed a departing hero when he finally left, a billion Sci Fi anecdotes later and with his cheque, just before lunch.
All the way through his Computer repairman’s guide to the Galaxy Matt and I were sat at the kitchen table trying desperately to shave 20m² off a new house design and simultaneously price the job before lunch time. No such luck.
Still at least now we know the chequered and fascinating history of Dr Who’s sonic screwdriver.

As soon as he’d gone we rushed into Limoges to buy a new printer as ours broke yesterday – just after I’d gone and bought a new black cartridge for it at great expense thinking that to be the problem. If anyone needs a black cartridge (HP 336), and are passing, please feel free to stop by and pick it up because it didn’t get used and I’m not throwing it away.
Anyway now we have a new one which, unsurprisingly, we can’t seem to install properly but which will hopefully be up and running for tomorrow so that we can scan the plans and send them to the guy who wants the new house built.
Somehow amongst the computer buying Matt managed to make a sly detour to Decathlon in order to buy a half set of golf clubs which he seems to be in the process of manhandling every time I look at him.
The other sporting news of the day is that I’ve just signed up the kids, at their pestering behest, for ‘Ping Pong’ classes in Oradour. So that’s Friday and Tuesday’s aperitifs over with to add to Wednesday, when Etienne now has a guitar lesson in St Mathieu at 7pm. Goodbye social life. Or maybe not….. Matt’s just finished on the phone to a friend of ours who is buying a house in Orange – and signing for it next week - so we’re making plans to go off in a couple of weeks to stay for a while. The departure date is set about three days after Alfie arrives back from lycee, with his girlfriend and two other friends, to take over the house on the other side. As the old adage of visitors and fish rings true even with prodigal sons the timing is perfect. Sadly I think they’ll all still be here when we get back, unless we stay for the entire two weeks of the holiday, so that our welcome return (whatever time of the day – after 2pm) will be a courtyard full of cars, a house full of strange people, booming music and continual requests for pasta sauce…or worse. I must pop in an see Judith about that pumpkin.
By the way did I mention that by 5pm the WIFI connection had stopped working again? I thought not.

I really should be getting ready to return to the UK, as I am flying back tomorrow to attend the wedding of Neils sister Michelle. I’ve always loved a good wedding, but now happily ensconced in our house after several years of nomadic living and with the company of our animals it is hard to leave.

Things have been made slightly more complicated because Jane (henceforth known as calamity), owner of Rita and head horse honcho in my absence had a bit of an equine prang two days ago when her horse ejected her at speed on a track, breaking her clavicle. I feel so sorry for her as she has just got over mincing her fingers in a wood shredder and is pretty hacked off at this latest disaster. The only thing vaguely cheering her up is the hatching of four of Regs’ offspring yesterday to their young broody hen. Den her husband who is a strapping six plus footer is in a huge state of excitement, and as I arrived to deliver some huge steaks courtesy of David at the organic farm yesterday he was leaping up and down shouting “there’s four!! there’s four!!”

Neil is best man at the wedding on Saturday, and has been fitted for a suit at a very posh outfitters in Esher, Surrey. I am hoping that I will look vaguely ok but at present I have no idea how I will look as I have ordered a dress on eBay, and it has been delivered to Surrey - so here’s hoping!!! I’m also waiting for a necklace to arrive to go with this outfit - another eBay bargain, but seeing as it is coming from Tibet it might not be here in time. Still at £2.99 I thought it was worth the risk. I will take a standby outfit, but seeing as Neil took our case which is the largest you can get on hand luggage with Ryanair leaving me with a much smaller one (despite the fact he went back in a big van), my room for taking a second choice is limited.

I popped in to see how Martin, ace builder is getting on at his new project the other day. He is renovating a house in the centre of a village and is going to bring it back to its former glory. I can’t believe how fast he works, he isn’t there full time but the amount of work he has done is staggering, although the mairie is holding him up with all the permissions needed for the outside of the house. No change there then!! They wont let him remove a section of roof that is so dangerous it will fall down sometime soon. I can’t wait to see how the place progresses, I think it’s lovely.

Marcus has just popped over to borrow our paslode nail gun and has left his enormous but gorgeous dog Dantae here to play with Tess for the day - as we speak I can hear them rolling around in the hallway probably creating even more chaos than is normal in this household. Excuse me while I boot them out….

Ps having just had a chat with Judith, Helen will be pleased to know that following yesterdays visit from her sons, she is being given a huge pumpkin for the kids for Halloween which will need to be dug out and decorated - that will give you a nice break from the paperwork - as if you haven’t got enough to do!!

Yet another busy day today, starting with a meeting at the bank at 9.30am, which meant going there directly after the kids were dropped off at school – it being ½ an hour away in St Yrieix. Following that we attempted to find a black cartridge for the printer which has run out yet again after only a couple of months use. Don’t buy a HP PSC 1510 if you don’t have to is all I’d say on that subject!

I’d also like to mention that it wasn’t, as it transpired, a full moon last night but the night preceding one – which is why, despite the quilt of clouds, I didn’t sleep a wink. Tonight I’m hoping for better things.

Back at our neck of the woods by midday, we went straight to Bort where we had been invited to lunch by Robin and Anne who are renting the house there. They have made the house so cosy that as soon as you go in there you know it’s going to be difficult to leave, as indeed it turned out to be, especially after a couple of glasses of wine and Cheddar cheese brought from English shores …amongst many other things.
Sadly though we did have to leave after a couple of hours, as the afternoon was packed with price finding for the new build and typing tasks too numerous and dull to mention….which took up the entire afternoon.

The kids, having come back from school, headed off to see Judith and Ian down the road, and their chickens who sit on people’s heads, as well as Trixie their dog who also happens to be Chabal’s girlfriend - or so the kids tell me.

I went into Cussac to try and find a cartridge for the printer, which against all odds I managed to do but on bringing it back discovered that the printer had stopped working – so that all of the afternoon’s work was for nought after all.

I emailed Kevin and Moraig and pleaded with them to come over for aperitifs which they kindly did with Craig, Moraig’s brother, who is currently in training for the New York Marathon and who can, as a result, sink any amount of crisps offered with impunity.

Alfie phoned, whilst they were here, to ask if I could send him 25€ as he’s going to a big punk gig at the weekend in Nancy – featuring amongst others the UK Subs and GBH…perlease!

Matt, Kevin and I sang ‘Hurry up Harry’ down the phone and were put on loud speaker so that his friends could hear just how down we were with the ados. It was only later that I wondered if it wasn’t actually Sham 69 who had sung it afterall and that we’d seriously out street-credded ourselves in front of the yout’.

He also said that he needed 4€ something to take his laundry to the ‘pressing’ as he’d been told off for doing it in the showers at college. We’ve been trying to ignore his demands for money in the hope that he’ll eventually relent and find himself a job….but it makes you wonder just how low things can get before he’ll submit to burger flipping.

Matt got a call on his mobile this morning from Robin and Anne (not the Robin who left a comment questioning the relevance of Kevin’s blog !) but the one renting the house at Bort, to say that Bobby Sands had fallen in the garden and couldn’t get up. They,rightly, didn’t think that they could between them manage to hoist up his 120kg frame themselves.
Matt went straight to the mairie to tell them and they called his doctor and in a fit of over dramatic pique Matt then called the pompiers (firebrigade) who turned up after the doctor and social worker had him back on his feet and back in the house, with their sirens blaring. If ever there were insult added to injury.
This afternoon the social worker turned up with a chemical toilet for him but couldn’t get him to answer the door and on entering found that he’d fallen again.
Tonight he’s in hospital…..in France….which means that no one will ever see him again.
Perhaps that’s an unfair reading of the French health system by someone who hates hospital and was kept in for 6 days when I had Etienne in Limoges. I don’t actually know anyone who’s been in for treatment who has a bad word to say on the subject - except maybe that they’re a bit on the thorough side but it’s got to be better than the alternative on the other side of the channel I imagine so I’d better take that back as insensitive.
Following the morning’s drama Matt and I went out to lunch. A bit OTT on a Monday possibly but we did spend all of yesterday working, with Matt doing a 10 page long devis for a new build whilst I did the VAT for the accountant which I didn’t finish until 6.30pm and then had to drive into Aixe sur Vienne to post.
After lunch which began with, amongst the choices, delicious Cassoulet de Noix de St Jaques which in the words of Winner was ‘historic’, we popped into Carrefour for a new duvet as ours lost it’s bounce a long time ago and is like sleeping under a brick. This one’s Hollofill and as light as a cloud. That and a full moon should hopefully ensure a fine night’s sleep although tonight is surely destined to be filled with nightmarish Kafkaesque Metamorphoses following the morning’s events.
Anyway the day finally finished - although obviously it didn’t as I’m still here doing this at 10pm - with the typing up and sending of the quote to Donald who wants the new house building. I started at 3pm and finished at 8pm which gives you some idea of just how illegible the pages of writing were that Matt left me with before disappearing to see to team DIG-IT and then latterly going off for a run.
Still it’s all over now. Just the Sunday Times to read and then sleep.
By the way, in answer to Mel’s query re. the Bailey’s cheesecake, I think it was a partial success…. atleast the one that our guests were given was and which was made on the spur of the moment with a bit of marscapone cheese and Bailey’s mixed together…. although not necessarily the one which was made the day before and didn’t make it out of the fridge until the day after. Now that one wasn’t that successful - but I think it’s failing was due mainly to the fact that, fearing the base to be too thin ( it did look way too thin to my pudding trained eye) I added a load more crumbs, which I then forgot to bake, before adding the topping and which subsequently soaked up most of the top part so that it ended up an inverse version of the more popular dessert….and more popular for a very good reason.

I had an e-mail last week complaining that I hadn’t offered an update on George, our Prozac popping pooch. He’s asked me to tell you that he’s seen the error of his ways, hasn’t bitten his Dad (that’s me….) for nearly nine months, is now utterly devoted to him and except for barking at squirrels and occasional ‘showboating’ charges at neighbours, he now considers himself the model Jack Russell. He continues to chomp prozac on a twice daily basis and as far as I’m concerned can stay on it for the rest of his life if he continues like this. I sometimes think if I upped his doseage, he might sprout a halo and start wearing a habit.

Another tiring week at work culminating in a red wine and Shepherds Pie (TM Melanie 2008) evening on Friday with Mels sister Penny. She had been away on a course all week in Bracknell (the Capital city of Corporate IT). On her course were various sales people from all over Europe who are all learning about the products and services they are expected to sell. There was an Italian, two Danish people, a Spaniard, Dutch people all attending a two week course, in English! She was full of admiration for their ability to learn a new subject in a foreign language. I said it sounded a bit like late 70’s/early 80’s sitcom “Mind your language”.

I don’t know if you remember this gem of a comedy programme. I say comedy, I’m not sure it was even particularly funny but I do remember that it was the programme that sparked the anti-racist in me. It was about a foreign language college, where the students were learning to speak English. There was an Italian, a Greek guy, a Pakistani, an Indian, an Irishman (?), a woman from Sweden etc etc. The comedy was based around the re-enforcement of their national stereotypes and their tenuous grip on English language and the sexual innuendo that came from that.

I managed to find some old footage on Youtube and she confirmed that yes, that was in fact very similar to the course she had just endured.

Saturday was a rest day followed by dinner at restaurant called Bistro 156 which was OK but spoiled by a gigantic hair in Mels pudding, my squid starter which was extremely wubbewy and a resultant row about the bill with a waiter who resembled Bamber Gascoigne. Slightly bizarre in that every time we complained about the bill, he went away and then came back with a slightly higher one. Strange negotiation tactic which was completely undermined by Penny tearing Bamber a new arsehole.

There will be no comment on the economy or indeed the American elections (comprehensively covered by Kevin yesterday) as I am now pretending (for a while at least) that the world beyond my own personal perspective does not exist. It’s probably not healthy but at least it stops me panicking at the ever deteriorating economy and allows me to concentrate on problems closer to home. A ‘Surprise’ tax bill that awaited me when I returned from France last week being the least welcome of those problems.

Normally I would firmly eschew the hand carved wooden flute and from time to time run screaming from the mandolin, but to kick us off, Mariee Sioux (playing in Niort in the Charente in November). Her only connection to this election special being that she is from….er….America.

Less than three weeks to go to possibly the most important election in modern times and things are getting nasty across the pond. I’ve never been a big believer in conspiracy theories, (actually that’s bollocks, I think we all know that no-one has ever landed on the moon and that Chesney “I am the one and only” Hawkes was actually an animatronic ) however this seems to be an unlikely accident

For those who can’t be arsed to click on the link or read the article (everyone, I imagine), the gist is that some absentee ballots have gone out in a few counties in upstate NY with Barack Obama’s name spelled Barack Osama….as the piece points out - just how close are the B and S keys on a keyboard ? …..hmmmm….I shall say no more.

There is a long tradition in the land of the free and home of the cheats for vote rigging. I think everyone is by now aware that Al Gore actually won the 2000 election but was sucker punched out of it by a combination of George Bush’s brother and an acquiescent supreme court.

The thinking for the 2004 election, however, seems to be that once Bush and his assorted denizens of darkness had successfully portrayed John Kerry as a “wind surfing Frenchman” (I’m not making this up) Dubya won at a canter. Actually nothing could be further from the truth. If you look a the graphic below you will see that the whole thing boiled down to Ohio (circled)

Had those 20 elecotral votes gone the other way then the current president of the USA would have been John Kerry. “So what” I hear almost none of you cry, “it didn’t happen” – think again and read this. A litany of systematic manipulation of the electoral roll, voter registration and counting procedures. What is interesting is to compare the current map showing Obama / McCain based on up to date poll numbers.

Even without winning Ohio and Florida (both states in which he is ahead in the polls) Obama would still creep past the 270 electoral votes needed. The difference between the two maps isn’t huge and although Obama is campaigning heavily in Republican states (and may conceivably pick off one or two, although the main purpose is to force McCain to spend what’s left of his dwindling war chest on defending votes he would usually expect as god given) as usual the election of the President of America is actually decided by a relatively small number of people in a relatively small number of states.

Given the numbers it is unsurprising that McCain and Palin are attempting to whip up their supporters into a frenzy of righteous indignation, intimating that Obama somehow isn’t ‘American’ enough. The real obfuscator ( a word insufficiently used in my opinion) is McCain himself. Read here for the real story of the McCain rise to prominence….a couple of quotes from the piece for those who really, truly cannot be arsed (it is ten pages long)

“This is the story of the real John McCain, the one who has been hiding in plain sight. It is the story of a man who has consistently put his own advancement above all else, a man willing to say and do anything to achieve his ultimate ambition: to become commander in chief, ascending to the one position that would finally enable him to outrank his four-star father and grandfather.”

“The reckless, womanizing hotshot who leaned on family connections for advancement before his capture in Vietnam emerged a reckless, womanizing celebrity who continued to pull strings. The real difference between the McCain of 1967 and the McCain of 1973 was that the latter’s ambition was now on overdrive.”

Finally 6.7 million people have now viewed this YouTube clip, which is about 20 more than watched my dog running round the garden with the Pixies in the background – I think we all know which one will affect the future of the world more.

Apologies for the tardy and scanty blog but I’ve had a drink now and we all know where that leads. Matt’s gone off to watch the Wonder Years with the kids and I’m left in a one to one with the computer – which frankly gives less back daily.
All this hedonism is a result of having 3 Dutch people, who want Matt ( or more correctly Eurl Dig-It) to build them a house, sitting around the kitchen table since 3pm and drinking wine. Such is the crazed life we lead.
Since that time, as tomorrow’s agenda has already been filled with chestnut picking 9–12pm and kid’s football all afternoon, I have been busy preparing beef in guiness and a Bailey’s cheesecake for a meal we’re having tomorrow evening. I thought I’d go Irish with this one as one of the guests is with child and no doubt needs the iron and it seemed a good idea when I had it mid-week and it was autumnal. Now, of course, the weather has changed and it’s going to be 24° or something ridiculous tomorrow which is bbq weather in anyone’s language.

That’s it. Sorry…….