OK, it's been a while. Sorry. As you may probably imagine, other things have been on my mind, such as it is these days, for quite a while now ... I am now fully vaxed and feeling much happier about that as it means that I can actually go off and see some old friends that I've not seen since BC without feeling obliged to wear a full noddy suit and respirator, can go out to bars and have a merry glass of vitamins under the plane trees, and can eat in a restaurant. If I think to book ahead. Also, no longer obliged to wear a mask in outdoor public spaces ... this is definitely a better place to be.
Also, there's a new addition to the family. All Philippe's fault, of course. I'll grant you that Margo happened to mention over dinner one night that she'd once had a Fiat 850 coupé ... but then I started to get email referring to ads on leboncoin for such things ...
There was a rather nice cabriolet going for about 4 grand, but it appeared to have spent the last twenty years of its life in a stable, next to the horses, and needed quite a bit of work - also, it disappeared literally overnight.
But this one was at Montpellier so one fine day Philippe and I headed off, ate (of course) and looked her over. The bloke had paid 12K for her and was willing to sell her for 11K, so Philippe told me that as the brakes needed looking at and the gearbox would have to be dropped out to fix the "normal" whine in 4th gear, I should offer 8K. Which is what I did.
When I told him the next day that it'd been accepted, he said - typical French - "Merde! Le con voulait vraiment s'en débarrasser ... Should have offered 7 ..." Never mind. A week later I rented a trailer, borrowed John and his Landcruiser, and went to pick her up - because it was all twoo about the brakes, and the gearbox, and trying to drive her back on the autoroute seemed unadvisable (also, neither wing mirrors nor seatbelts, makes me nervous) ...
Whatever, sometime in the immediate future when the 1934 Belilla has advanced to the point where serious carpentry skills are required, she shall go into Philippe's garage and onto the hoist and get hands stuck up her skirts. And I shall learn a bit about la mécanique ...
But then, even if I can't really describe it as a mid-life crisis (that actual time being rather past in my case), what better time than in your 60s to do something on a coup de coeur? I mean, if you're still working and aren't Italian you'll have got rid of the kids and consequently have a bit of disposable income once again, so why not? Especially as you've a fair chance (despite my own best efforts to the contrary) of living another ten years or so, so as to be able to actually enjoy your little folie ...
Anyways, so it is, oh dearly belovèds, that we is got ourselves a 1966 Fiat 850 Coupé (Serie I), and rather plan on having fun with her.
Speaking of working reminds me that I shall probably be spending much of July up in Strasbourg, picking up the pieces of a turn of the century (that's around 2000, not 1900, although you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise) stock control system written especially for garages in VB6 and using the dreaded MS Access as a substitute for a database. Apparently, most of their hell-desk calls are from clients who are having problems with Access, and need to rebuild the thing ... I honestly didn't know that it even existed any more.
In any case, no good deed goes unpunished and you don't get to spend over 40 years in computing without picking up a bit of archaeological cruft which the yoof of today have had the good fortune to have avoided, so there you go: as I too am guilty of VB6, am frighteningly competent and not outrageously expensive, that, it seems, is how I shall be spending some of the summer.
Don't get me wrong, Strasbourg is a lovely city, it's just that up until now it'd not been included in my travel plans.
In other news, summer is indeed upon us but luckily the temperature has plummeted from the high thirties we were enjoying over the past week or so, and so actually doing something is once again an option. Not, to be honest, that it's an option I've actually taken, but it's nice to have the choice. "Hack out some more shite code to fix some boring once in a lifetime bug that probably no-one cares about anyway, or have another gin in the hammock?", that's the sort of problem with which I find myself confronted.
It's a difficult choice but what the hell, I can always assuage any slight feelings of guilt by telling myself that crap code can always be pounded out next moaning, when it's cooler, and in any case they always seem slightly shocked when I manage to deliver on time and I'd hate to be responsible for a heart attack or whatever by dropping off something operational and fully tested earlier than scheduled. (This is what happens when you manage to get peoples' expectations sufficiently low.)
The other thing about summer is the summer thunderstorms, which tend to be kind of spectacular around these parts, as well as sudden. Yesterday's little effort involved hailstones as well - about the size of my thumbnail - glad I wasn't actually out in it, I've enough dents in my scalp as it is.
I'll spare you the gory and admittedly tedious details, but despite the mairie's best efforts to prove that they are - collectively - a pack of incompetent arseholes who wish to have a bar that caters exclusively for the 10% of the population who are incontinent and over 90, Sandra and Eric have reopened for business.
And so not only can I seek out bad company and enjoy a (unmasked) drink or two in its presence, we may dine (and Sandra's oeufs cocotte are worth it) if it's not pissing down with rain (see note above, on thunderstorms), and I find myself once again solicited to supply foie gras.
Sadly I did not make as much as usual last winter - at the time, there seemed little point - and there's but one bloc left in the freezer that's maybe the best I've ever made to date, involving Timut pepper and chili flakes and Bourbon, that only I and a friend who appreciates such things are ever going get to stick in their mouths, so they shall have to wait if they've another massive order (or buy the stuff from Metro, like everyone else): did manage to hand over a kilo for her salade périgourdine on Father's Day though, so that's alright.
I've still not quite come to grips with the fact that I, definitely not-from-here and in fact not even French, am generally acknowledged to make the best foie gras in the region, but there you are, I can live with that.
Completely off-topic, but I am very proud of young Moses. The other day, for the first time in his life, he cocked one leg up and pissed on a car tyre. Big, grown-up boy! (Speaking of "big" it was time for his booster shots this moaning, and I was slightly embarrassed to discover that he actually weighs in at 17.5kg. As the vet remarked, "he's not fat, but you can tell that he has a few reserves ...", so he might be moving on to somewhat shorter rations from now on.
Anyways, I hop onto the TGV to Strasbourg tomorrow for ten days of whizzo fun and games, so time now, I'm afraid, to get some of the boring but necessary stuff like billing done before packing (not forgetting the camera, and a spare battery pack because I'll not be caught out again). Mind how you go, now.