The Old Hack

Good news for the Old Hack. Our house purchase will finalise on the 30^th April. More about house purchase generally in a future blog.

Bad news for the Old Hack. Telephone and internet connection will not recommence for about a fortnight! Bad management on my part? Well, for once, no actually. Regular readers of these pages will know that telephony in France is now the responsibility of Orange (see The Future’s Bright….)

The little house we’re buying belongs to a lovely French couple who have bent over backwards to help us with our move, supplying names of local suppliers, mechanic, doctor, dentist, etc. Because I have a constant need for internet and telephone connection, I asked if I could take over their telephone line. “No problem. Of course. Just telephone France Télécom and they will arrange it.”

A call to France Telecom told us what we should have guessed. The request must be in writing, and must be accompanied by an official form of identification. The request should also be backed up by a similar letter from the present user of the line (also accompanied by an official form of identification – in spite of the fact they have held the line for some years!)

The letter was written immediately (that is two weeks ago) and sent by recorded delivery. This morning I attempted to telephone the current house owner – only to find the telephone number “not attributed” according to a recorded announcement.

I telephoned France Télécom to ensure that all was well and that the number would be attributed to me on the 30^th April, as requested in my letter….. “Letter? You sent us a letter?” “Yes”, I explained, outlining my reasons for wanting uninterrupted telephony and internet services. “Oh yes. You want the same number? It will take two weeks.”

“Why then.” I ventured, “…does the Orange internet site tell me that if I know the telephone number for my new house, they can arrange immediate internet transfer?”

“Impossible. Two weeks.”

Experience has taught me the futility of arguing with authority here in France. Here there are two golden rules. Rule One: The official is always right. Rule Two: In the unlikely event of the official being wrong, Rule One applies.

I managed a weary, rather than cheery “Thank You” and, it being too early to open a bottle of wine, took a second strong coffee to calm down. I shall make the most of my next few days of internet and telephone access. After that there may be an enforced silence from me for a time.

There’s an orange painted wall in our new house which we had planned to repaint within a very short time of taking up occupation. I think I shall be tempted to paint it as soon as I enter the portals! The future’s bright indeed!

Many British readers under the age of about 50 may not recognise the abundance of yellow flowers in the picture below.  I took the photgraph this-afternoon along one of the many country roads I travel each day - most of which resemble this and whose verges are brilliant with the tiny beauties.

Let me put you young townies out of your misery - they are cowslips, and right now are by far the commonest flower to be found in Poitou-Charente.  Sometimes they are grouped alone, and sometimes with a small blue flower which seems to be a miniature version of the garden hyacinth, or a white flower reminiscent of a snowdrop but far smaller.

I can't identify these wild flowers - until recently I have to confess that I could not even have identified the cowslip.  What is every day a wonder to me, however, is how this countryside abounds with nature in a relatively unspoiled state in comparison with the UK I left behind.

Today alone, I took note of four buzzards (one of which narrowly missed my windscreen on take off!) at least a dozen colourful Jays, two herons and a whole host of (as yet) unidentified species of small bird.  Oh - and perhaps two dozen or so magpies.  I mention this because, wondering why the cowslip is so rare in Britain, I came upon an article by a British countryman laying the blame fairly and squarely (don't ask me to explain the convoluted argument) at the feet of the British public's disgust at the shooting of magpies, which abound and which (for some reason I could not fathom) prevent the cowslip from flourishing.

I've seen many sights here in France that I'm not comfortable with.  Whilst foxhunting happily does not occur in these parts, riflemen tend to shoot at anything they could possibly eat.  But magpies?  Why on earth would anyone want to shoot a magpie?  Maybe so that the cowslip can flourish here...  In case you were in doubt at the first photo, here is a close-up of the little yellow marvel.  Can you spot the magpie in the distance?

It's time I started to work for a living.  Being self-employed (apart from a lack of income) never seemed to be too much of an issue in Britain.  You worked as a sole trader or you formed a limited company.  Either way, it was quite possible to combine two or more enterprises to earn a living without falling foul of any legislation.

Here in France, things are somewhat more complicated.  Basically it is necessary to register with one or another body your intended occupation.  Now that may be very simple.  If you're a plumber you simply register as a plumber.  If you sell newspapers you register as a newspaper seller.  So far, so good.

I am considering registering as a translator.  I speak French fluently and am competent to translate web sites (which I have done from the UK) and undertake other casual work from various sources.

I have also had a tentative offer of work from an estate agency, who are looking for someone with good French to negotiate with local property agents, owners and local government officials.

That wouldn't be a problem in the UK, but here I would have to register with two quite different occupations - which is not always easy.

The English publication 'Connexions' runs a story this month about a photo journalist who set up business in France.  He found that he could register as a journalist or as a photographer.  But the concept of a photo-journalist was alien to the French system.  He eventually got round the problem by forming a (French) limited company, but was held up by five months in the ensuing bureaucracy.

Another British resident wants to set up a tea shop, selling her own home made cakes.  A fine idea, but she must register as a trader (in order to sell tea and cakes) and also as an artisan because she will be baking the cakes that she sells!

The Sarkosy presidency seems to be more alive to the contribution that immigrants, such as we Brits, can make to the French economy than previous administrations, and is actively seeking views and ideas from expat communities within France (not just the Brits) in order to ease restrictions on business and make it easier to be entrepreneurial.

In the meantime, France is losing out to people working "sur le black" and not declaring their earnings.  At first I thought these people were simply evading taxation, but in all honesty I can understand why the frustration of having to jump through so many hoops to achieve something which should be easy could force the most honest citizen to accept work "sur le black" rather than lose a lucrative opportunity.

Earning a living is an essential part of integration into French society.  The sooner it is made easier, the better.

Coming from a small group of islands like Britain to mainland Europe, it is easy to forget the immense difference in size between England and France.  In a little over a week, we have travelled nearly 1,500 kilometres and have appointments galore to fill the next week before returning to our new (temporary) home in Montmarillon.

We  have based ourselves here in Narbonne (plage) for a couple of reasons.  One it is right on the beautiful Mediterranean that we know and love, and two - it is in the middle of a triangle of places we need to visit to keep both business and social appointments while we are in the area.

Yesterday, we set out to visit a British lawyer who works in France.  We had been recommended her by someone who said that her practice was in or near Toulouse.  Toulouse is quite a long drive from here, so we set out in good time, and arrived in Toulouse about half an hour before the arranged meeting time.

Then we discovered that the area she lived in was not in Tolouse, but rather some two hundred kilometres further north!  A glance at the map of France we had seen in Vienne had masked this vast difference in distance.  We got back to Narbonne at about 11.30pm thoroughly exhausted.

A couple of weeks earlier, we had travelled from our (then) home in London to Chesterfield.  We were held up on the M1 mortorway near Luton for over an hour.  We travelled through heavy rain and spray which held us up considerably and the journey took us more than four hours in all. 

In spite of the huge distance covered on yesterday's expedition, we were blessed with clear roads for most of the journey, excellent weather and beautiful scenery.  But next time, we really must concentrate on the scale of the map!