Desperate Anglo Housewives : Bordeaux

OUCH!

2012-02-20T14:00:00.006+01:00

Spring is in the air...no more hair!

Buds on the trees, no more snow.
Spring is in the air.

Time to start starving myself, depriving myself of those extra grease-filled calories so that I am brave enough to put on a swimsuit in public..2 months and counting!

But that's not all.
This is also the time of the year when I start slinking past the estheticians checking out the waxing prices...OUCH!

Being quite " fair" this was one of life's tortures I managed to get away from for a very long time. But now at 40-something,there's no running, just screaming!!

The french are obsessed with waxing. If its got hair, wax it!

I remember, with horror, the first trip to the local salon d'epilation..I was there for a mere eye-brow tweak. A woman, who resembled the Brunhilda of my nightmares came out every 5 minutes to call up the next victim, a bit like a school dental nurse..

Mme Dupont, half leg wax...Mme Faure, full leg please....Mme Gigot, eyebrows, upper lip and...chin, Mme Fleurot, bikini and Mme Roget, full arm wax, Mr Thirot, back wax please..and the list went on.

Everyone else was flicking through Elle and Paris Match. I was sitting there, my kiwi eyes on stalks, trying to, well, " hair spot!"

Until recently I was just a mere eyebrow client but after hearing my girlfriends after a few glasses of spring chardonnay chatting about their bikini waxes, and seeing looks of horror when I confessed my " virginity," I knew it was time!!

Now let me be clear here, it was not the pain that worried me. Not at all. I'm afraid to admit it was my terribly anglo-saxon pudeur or sense of modesty that had me reeling. That and the terrible fear of boiling wax being dripped in all the wrong places..

I have a great beautician in Bordeaux. Her name is Leonilda (she is on Place Paul Doumer if anyone is interested)..Leo is Brazillian and by way of word association I thought she would be my safest torturer. I went in to book..oh god, I was so embarrased I couldn't even look her in the eye. Although I asked for an appointment for 2023 she whisked me straight out the back.

It wasn't actually THAT bad....until Leo said, Susie would you like me to wax your anus ? Although I was frozen with terror my polite ango-saxonisms took over...No I wouldn't, but thank you for asking.

This will sound absurd to anyone living in NZ, Australia, USA, England...but I have just discovered that we can now buy cottage cheese in France. No excuses now...back to cottage cheese salads to prepare the warpath to my bathing suit!!

Cottage Cheese Salad

1 punnet cottage cheese (200gr)
chopped chives
chopped cucumber
sliced avocado
squirt of lemon juice plus some zest
splash of toasted sesame oil

rough ground black pepper
malden salt

FH (french husband) STRIKES AGAIN!

2012-02-14T21:45:00.003+01:00

...and I am not a romantic!

Happy Valentines Day,
My darling.
He said...

Kiwi, rather surprised by this sudden intake of american " romantic" culture....but also rather pleased.

Tiffany, flowers, dinner, ...glass of wine, at least?

Does a girl dare to dream??
My heart was on BOTH sleeves until...

" Let's go out for dinner tomorrow when its cheaper and there are less people!"

Promise: if I was a vibrator owner it would be out on matrimonial french pillow and buzzing furiously, even if un-used, until bloody dawn!

Did I say, "bloody?

Love words from another era??
" That's Amore"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS6-b7CONDI

CO CO CO COMMUNICATION...

2012-02-12T18:49:00.003+01:00

your instrument or me!

At cocktail parties or dinner parties alike, "it used to" be conversation and other people which took over one's attention.

Today I often find myself battling between human and smart phone/pad!!!

I do feel it is important to tackle this subject. I am not, in the slightest, anti-technology. But technology itself does wear thin when it simply takes over. Isn't it a question of bad manners when you are chatting away to somebody and the fact that their phone message bipped at them becomes priority over conversation?

In my teenage days...it was the phone ringing during meals. We weren't allowed to get up from the table to answer, even if we were sure it was some gorgeous 7th former heart-throb calling..it was to be ignored.

As adults, as 40 somethings, I am amazed and repulsed by the lack of self control. It appears that iphones, ipads, blackberries and company are number one. Why do people need to check their email every 5 minutes. Has the world become completely dominated by secondary communication?

Just speaking with a friend back from China, now living in Paris. He is outraged by people who go out for fabulous dinners and place their phones on the table..the phone rings and they are up and in the corridor, chatting away as if life depends on it!!

My personal "favourite" are the mad bints striding down the streets with ear pieces talking out loud, so involved by their seemingly one-sided conversations that they walk all over the footpath creating mayhem bumping into one and acting like damn nutters. I mean honestly, have they seen themselves?

Well I am going to wage my own war against this intrusion to primary human communication. Yes, I need my smartphone but not to the disadvantage of basic human communication. I am considering a collection basket at my front door..drop off your phone/pad upon entering and pick up as you leave!!

Smart phones/pads have made us completely reliant on them to the point that we forget the human being opposite us in preference for the machine. They are not "beings" they are machines intended help us communicate...instead they have become the very blockage to communication.

Freezing cold snap in south west France, we have been spicing up our cooking to stay warm! Below easy Sunday Chilli recipe given to me by a trustworthy Kentucky source..

Sunday Chilli

2 onions, chopped,

2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 shallots, chopped
2 cups ground beef/chicken/pork/tofu/tvp

2 cups chopped tomatoes
1 cup cooked red kidney beans
2 T mexican spice mix
1T piment d'espellete/ dried red chilli
worcester sauce
1 cup beer

Brown onions, garlic and shallots in a tablespoon of good olive oil. Add ground beef and brown.
Throw in spices and toss around until uniformly mixed.
Add tomatoes, beans and beer.
Cover and leave to simmer for about an hour and a half.
Better to eat the next day served with brown rice and home made guacamole...MMMMMM

SIGNING WHILST SHOPPING

2012-01-13T17:22:00.004+01:00

...the joys of an accent

Have to blog about my latest encounter of the "racist" kind...

My son is off to London for a week.

Born and bred in South West France, he hasn't any notion of "putting on a coat."

Even at 17 we have to battle with him to put on his coat when the temps drop below zero...which, fortunately, is not often!

This morning the mother went off to Galleries Lafayette to battle in the sales to find him a coat...

I was wearing my nerves on my sleeve as he wasn't with me and he is notoriously difficult when it comes to clothing. The coat I suggested yesterday was rejected as "ski" rather the "street" wear.

I decided to be thoroughly modern and photograph the coats and text the photos to him to choose.

So there I was in the madding throbbing crowd, photographing away when a shop assistant and her streaky-haired number 2 came up to me and very firmly told me that photographing was stricting not allowed...I looked around for signs telling me the same and remarked to her that there were no notices to that effect and that I was terribly sorry.

And there it was........................!!!!!!MY ACCENT! Ammo...

Her eyes rolled to her accomplice. She then actually yelled in slow motion pigeon french the equivalent of " PHOTOGRAPHS NO ALLOW" whilst doing some kind of sign language...dramatic head shaking followed by miming of taking photographs.

Rather taken aback I thought it better to follow her lead. I replied in perfect french ( accented albeit!)

...I don't care.The client is king...
whilst miming the placing of my crown on my fair head!!!

Luckily for her I don't know the french for " "Blow it out your ....."

Now that would make for an interesting mime!

SUNSHINE & JOY

2012-01-04T12:26:00.003+01:00

Will 2012 be the year....enough of bollocks resolutions?

I will never forget my first school report.

Age of 7 - Std 1.

" Susan has a sunny disposition"
...then came all the "buts"...

The "buts"in my case were based upon the fact that I was too chatty, too energetic...never stopped talking.

It wasn't held against me but was put forward as a possible energy to channel.

I will admit that such comments followed me throughout my school career. As a "talker" I was propelled into debating and drama, both of which "channelled" talkies and energy plus put my "sunny disposition" into value.

I then ended up becoming a lawyer so I could earn my living by talking.

I continued to become a teacher so that I can still continue to talk throughout the day...

The moral of the story is that we girls DO need to let it out, rant, rave, chat, laugh, share, scream and be joyful.

My resolution - to source the joy and sunshine within my frustrated desperate housewife self. Be myself!

DesperateAngloHousewives wishes you all a wonderfully joyful 2012 and may all your sunny dispositions shine through!!

For those of you who over-ate during the end of year holidays...go on put your hands up, here is the simplest chicken soup recipe ...

Resolution Chicken Soup

4 celery sticks chopped

4 carrots chopped

1  leek chopped

4 chicken thighs  

bunch of flat leafed parsley

2 yellow onions chopped

 1 teaspoon black peppercorns

1 tablespoon seasalt

1 clove 

vegetable bouillon if desired

Throw all ingredients into soup pot.

Cover with enough water so that there is about 2 inches of water above the chopped contents. 

Bring to the boil and then let simmer gently for about 3 hours.

Let cool overnight. Skim off fatty upper layer and reheat to boiling.

Pull meat off the bones and discard the skin and bones. 

Serve...

FOIE GRAS SHORTCUT

2011-12-21T13:04:00.003+01:00

getting it done fast and fab...

Like everybody, I am really looking forward to exercising my powers of digestion over the Christmas period.

Plug me into the Champagne pump and tantalise my tastebuds!

This year has been crazy busy and I have not even bought a single present let alone started on the basics such as foie gras terrine.

Good foie gras terrine is a must for me...pooh pooh to all the animal rights activists. We love the stuff!! But it has to be top quality and beautifully cooked to be a success....and quite frankly, just don't have time this year. Today's source of stress!!

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel...just sourced a really brilliant recipe online from Anne Sophie Pic, Succulent Foie Gras in just 6 minutes. Am going to translate and share it with all the other DesperateAngloHousewives who "have to have" but don't have time...

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

Succulent Foie Gras in 6 Minutes 

500gr good quality FG

Make the Marinade :

Mix 1 litre red wine,  50g sugar, 10cl creme de myrtilles, cinnamon stick, an aniseed clove, 2g fennel seed, 10g salt, 2 pinches black pepper.

Boil and leave to chill.

Put the marinade in a pressure-cooker(autocuiseur), placing the Foie gras in the basket.

Plunge the basket into to the pot making sure the fois gras is completely covered by the marinade.

Close the cooker and, once high pressure is reached, cook for 6 minutes.

Let cool before opening.

Serve warm or cold....

RANTY TANTY

2011-12-05T16:00:00.006+01:00

From nasty attitudes to intruding "pubes"...

Bad Food

Bad Attitudes

Bad Stomachs

Enough!

After having recently written how French restaurants are finally finding the meaning of customer service I find myself on a track running backwards at full throttle!

My colleagues and I often head down to the cafés on the quayside in Bordeaux for a quick lunch. I doubt whether this will continue. Apart from finding the staff in many of these restaurants quite silly strutting around knowingly in their designer aprons without even being able to tell you what the plate of the day is, I am now horrifed by their total lack of manners and personal hygene.

In one of these particular establishments the client is clearly not " king " but rather a "play thing" to ridicule.

My first bad experience in this café came a couple of weeks back.

The description "assorted crudities" has never been so close to the truth. Plate slapped down in front of me and there sitting on top of the grated carrot is one enormous greasy long curly hair..my two colleagues and I look down at the sight and beckon over the waitress who slides back and grudgingly takes away my plate. It sits on the service bar for about 5 minutes..we are ALL watching as she trots back up to the very same plate and, with a brisk wrist, whisks away the hair and returns back with the plate to me. We all remark that it is the same plate but she insists it is a new one. It obviously rests uneaten.

I foolishly return to the same establishment last week..I order the plate of the day "Gambas" cooked on the plancha. There are 4 greasy gambas staring up at me. The first one is fine. The second one fills my mouth and throat with what can only be described as an overwhelmingly disgusting ammonia/kerosine taste.

All " lady who lunches" is lost as I discretely spit it out on my plate, eyes watering!

We summon the waiter to warn him that one of my gambas is "off"..am then transported to mouth gaping shock as he offers to replace the offending gambas ( singular) that I spat out. I had thought he would remove the entire plate. Wisdom tells me not to continue with the rest but I do eat the rice as I was starving and had to teach until 8pm.

When we go to pay I mention that my lunch was pretty much inedible and that the gambas were "off"...at that the waiter yells across the restaurant in true Faulty Towers fashion..." Does anyone know anything about a gambas which was off?? " I then get " I suppose you don't want to pay for your main course"...accompanied by the sniggering of all the other designer waiters.

We walked out completely shell-shocked to have been treated like this.
About 45 minutes later I was shaking, sweating and vomiting. I cannot ever remember being so ill. 24 hours of pre - christmas purging!

The lesson : do NOT go back for more bad food and rotten customer service. It is simply not worth it!

CHARM AND CHARME

2011-11-05T09:52:00.007+01:00

Ready, steady...RANT!

Beauty v Brains

Elegance v Wit

Packaging v Content

Charm v Charme

Living in France for nearly 20 years, it is not yesterday that I suddenly realised that your "exterior" is your calling card.

But I do have a bone to pick!

I am simply sick to death of people being heralded for their looks. The girls with brains, the thinking-machines, the clever ones get left behind..that is unless they are " charmantes" to boot!

Let's look at that word,..charmant, charme..this is often a sticky word, lost in translation by anglophones.
Where I grew up a " charming" person was someone with interest, intelligence, humour, good manners and wit - someone who included you, ushered you into a conversation or poured you a strong G & T and listened during a personal crisis.
A "charming" person for me is someone who is cultured.

During my first few years in France I was often decked by surprise when people referred to as charmant opened their mouths and nothing fell out or simply stood like an accessory to a dinner party, mute and seemingly, quite stupid. Dullards!!

I even remember my ex-husband suggesting I work on my charme rather than chatting so much at dinner parties. Note the word, EX! We lived in the country so when going out I would put up my hair and pull on a pair of sensible boots ( mud, puddles, excrement...) where as the french women were letting their hair down and popping on heels. Charmant!
I just didn't get it....

I feel it is time to start celebrating intelligent and witty women in France rather than just ignoring them..it is SO "high school" in attitude. Let's take politicians for an example..how is it that short, squat, overweight chaps in politics get away with so much shinnanigans? Male, Politician, Power = CHARME
What about their female counterparts...also often short, squat and not overly slim..? I have never heard Martine Aubrey beng referred to as charmante ! But I am sure she would be better (and safer!!) company to be sat next to at a dinner party than most of her male colleagues!!

I started researching the word charme in french this morning and apart from the obvious "hornbeam tree" I came up with photo de charm...which is " glamour photography* " in English.
This alone points out how charm and charme are indeed false friends.

ps What do you think about this..my week's favourite..
Took the dog for a walk yesterday. Raining, grey weather, obviously decked out in sweat pants and rainwear..as was the dog. Pass perfumerie/makeup shop and see new Shalimar perfume in window and think, ooh must go in for a tester. Go in to try it out but the women suggests I should go for more " sporty" type perfumes.....? Was honestly speechless.
Sweat pants = minimal CHARME, sports person ??

*Glamour photography is a genre of photography

whereby the subjects, usually female,

are portrayed in a romantic or sexually alluring way.

The subjects may be fully clothed or seminude.

On that note I am going to empower myself with a bag of carrots and the food processor.

Soup time!

Carrot, Coconut Spiced Soup

1kg carrots
1.25 l water
3 red onions
4 large potatoes
1t cumin
1t cinnamon
25cl coconut milk
1T nigella seeds

Peel and chop carrots and potatoes plus 2 onions. Throw them onto soup pot with water and cook approx 40 mins on a medium flame. Once tender take off flame.
Add last onion, finely minced, plus spices and coconut milk. Wizz in food processor or a vitamiser.
I push mine through a sieve as this increases the velvety texture.

BASKING IN THE GLORY

2011-10-26T08:46:00.011+02:00

What a world cup means...

My French Husband (herein FH) eating his breakfast mumbles T'as fini (have you finished!) as he watches me downloading photos of the All Blacks.

"Susie Susie I will catch you"

He catches me desperately trying to wipe the beatific smile off my face as Daniel Carter pops up, yet again, on my screen.

Oh dear, how many times times can one watch those old Jockey underwear ads with him doing sit-ups JUST in his undies...ah bliss!

Getting serious, the World Cup has been monumental. And not just because this desperateanglohousewife's fantasies!

As an offshore Kiwi, my heart has been in my throat everytime I hear the NZ anthem sung or watch " my boys" sling out the haka to their adversaries. The pride a Kiwi feels can only be undersdood by other Kiwis. A small country so isolated, national sports such as Rugby are paramount to our national dignity. Winning this World Cup is something we have been waiting for since 1987. Winning "at home" has made that win all the more poignant.

The French played like kings which is what made the final that much more exciting. They played like a team, leaving their "star" culture in the locker room. In my living room, surrounded by French friends, the tension was high. I could hardly breathe during the whole of the second half. And yes, I DID cry when we won. FH did the "gallic sulk" for the rest of the day as I continued smiling like a chesire cat, dancing around the house bounced up by our brunch Bloody Marys.

The NZ flag remains hung down the front of our house. So far no eggs and the windows appear to be fully brick-proof!! Joking...

The Saddest Thing
Driving to work Monday morning, basking in the All Black's glory, I was horrifed to hear reports on the main French radio stations refering to the final as a "set up" with a paid off ref. A final loss taken bitterly.

My only take on this is to kindly ask the French to remember that this is "sport" and not "war". They were NOT the losers. They were second in the World Cup - a title deserving of a better attitude from the French press. After a less than glorious win against the valiant Welsh in the semi-finals, the French press should know better!!

Enough from me..time to go back and watch those underwear ads.

One more Dan!

No recipes this week, just generously sharing ( to the right) my Dan Carter sit-up screen saver.
Who needs meditation?!!

AUTUMN DASH

2011-10-17T14:06:00.002+02:00

...stress, racing, taking time to laugh

For many, this is a mad time of the year.

Juggling family, with work, with home, with friends, with breathing... I don't always balance up at the end of the week.

One thing I do get time for is my dog. You can all laugh but my dog is THE most deserving member of my personal community.
Who else rolls on his back with pure joy or gives my shoe a golden shower when I come home from work?? He will also lick my weary toes and rest his head in my armpit. He is, without a doubt, THE ONE!

Young Harry and I get up very early every morning and do a run/power walk around Jardin Public. This morning, for the second time, I was quite perplexed at people's sizest attitudes to him jogging beside me. We were observed with both disdain and mockery...Harry is a 3.5kg Yorkshire, the size of a fluffy slipper. But can he run!! Never underestimate your furry friends!!

So why the running? For those of you who know me well you will know that my best sporting activity is generally "olympic wrist lifting"...lifting glass of chardonnay to lips, posing the glass on the table, relifting glass to lips etc.

I am however finding that my daily trot around the park at dawn is a wonderful way to blow away my morning anguish. My 40-something body accompanied by that of my furry friend's may not be the sporting duo of the century but I am certainly shedding stress and getting through my autumn days in a better frame of mind.

Let's finish on a linguistic anecdote..
It's that time of the year again when we examine the bar students ( legal not wine!). Last Friday I had a beauty...

" So what is your speciality in law?" " Private law" " Hmm, what do you mean by private law?" " Oh, actually I am a generalist...family and penile* law." " MMm that's great ( eyes to floor) now perhaps we will move on to the text analysis..."

* Penile meaning "penal" meaning "criminal law"

I am really sick of goooey uncooked chocolate cake. Here is the lightest, tastiest,classiest, dark chocolate cake perfumed with Amaretto. Serve it with ladles of freshly whipped cream, the rest of the Amaretto and Puccini...

Amaretto Chocolate Cake

150gr chopped cooking chocolate
150 gr unsalted butter
6 eggs
250gr fine white sugar
70gr sifted flour
6 tablespoons Amaretto

Preheat oven to 180°.

Melt butter with chocolate,set aside to cool slightly.

Beat eggs and sugar until light and fluffy.

Fold flour into egg mixture then finally fold in chocolate and butter.

Pour mixute into buttered cake tin and cook 40 minutes.

When you take cake out of oven, pour over Amaretto immediately.

When cool dust with cocoa powder.

Serve with lashings and lashings of home-whipped cream.
Take the bottle of Amaretto to the table...crack up the Puccini!!

HAIRCUT HELL

2011-09-25T11:10:00.003+02:00

...a gentle trim

Have you ever noticed people's reactions to a new haircut?

There are 2 types - " ah LOVE your hair!!" and then, " oh,(pregnant pause) you've had a haircut."

The first is induced by admiration. The second by utter shock and revulsion...but with an accent on diplomacy.

You have probably already guessed that I have had a haircut. And yes OF COURSE I am in the second category!

I have suffered two weeks of,
Oh have you cut your hair?
You've had a hair cut?
You hair is shorter?
Nice hair colour!
DAH!

I will admit that have been reduced to replying with juvenille type comments, " no shrunk in the wash" " no had a neck stretch" which have been meet with nervous laughter from the questioners who then really wished they had said nothing at all about my awful awful chop!

I have even had those who cannot even look me in the eye! ( French husband, FH, said Lovely hair darling whilst looking at the ceiling!)
So far nobody has given me directions to the hat shop but expect that will come...

One of the most traumatising things about living in another country is going to the hairdresser...when I first moved to France I was living in the country. I had some amazing "hairdos"..the best was what only could be refered to as "tribute to Peter Frampton" - I was transformed into the "shag" ( nothing sexual here!) princess - multi-layered hair, teased and streaky. A nightmare! Renamed hairdresser to whoredresser!!

Last week's cut was not quite so bad in comparison - the holder of extremely thick hair which was very long, I decided it was time to go shoulder length. SHOULDER length.
My hairdresser of 10 years has up and gone with no forwarding address...he had "mastered" my very difficult hair and had rendered me "presentable" for the last decade. I am mourning his departure! Post haircut - utterly gutted and in need of medication!

I made the mistake of allowing someone who doesn't know my hair to cut it from long to short..I did explain that my hair is MUCH shorter dry than wet when it was cut up to my collarbone..I repeated myself when it was brushing my shoulders. Too late.
The poor girl's face when she was drying my 20kgs of hair as it shot up to my nape...

The result...Hillary Clinton. Yep, I have a Hillary Clinton haircut and it is dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. Susie for President!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am stateswoman proto-type without the all-plum pantsuit.

I won't need a helmet to ride a motorbike..I have my own built-in to my head.

In need of serious comfort food. Am reaching out to the fresh fettucini..(maybe I could wear it on my head?!)
Here is a really easy fettucini dish which is great for Sunday supper and noble enough to serve if people drop in.
Make sure everyone is already sitting down for supper with a big glass of chardonnay before you start cooking...fresh pasta needs to be eaten straight away - it does not wait!

Sunday Supper Fettucini

fresh fettucini, 100 - 120gr per person
Good quality smoked salmon ( I use scottish un-farmed), 1 small fillet per person or if I pass the Ikea Swedish grocery, a side of whole wood-smoked salmon which I crumble.
1/2 cup capers
fresh chives, chopped
juice of a lemon plus the zest
olive oil
freshly grated parmesan
black pepper
malden salt

Chop salmon into thin strips. Add lemon juice, zest, capers, salt and pepper. Toss, cover and set aside.
Cook fettucini. Drain well. Toss through olive oil and salmon mixture.Sprinkle over chopped chives.
Serve immediately with lashings of fresh parmesan and a large green salad.

THE GRACIOUS ART OF MEDITATION

2011-09-14T09:42:00.003+02:00

How relaxed are you..?

My year has started off with a couple of explosions.

The kind of explosions which create major stress and inner anguish.

I won't bore you with the details...suffice to say that I have turned to my iPad for support.

I love my iPad. Not usually a gadget oriented gal, this wee beauty and I have become inseparable.

The iPhone has NOTHING on it..to start, now that I am 40-something I need to get out my glasses everytime I use my iPhone or stretch my arms as long as possible and squint to read those all-important texts from girlfriends..meet you at wine bar at 6pm...anyone for a gin and tonic...Spanks on sale at underwear lady down Cour Clemenceau...
Even though the iPhone has all the "apps," the "style-plus" ingredient etc etc it just doesn't measure up.

I love the way the iPad gets called " a tablet"...so ROMAN! Imagine myself in floaty toga with elaborate hair, down at the local forum..although I would probably be playing Blokus or Scrabble on my tablet rather than adding anything useful!

Anyway back to my stress..I have downloaded some amazing relaxation and meditation "apps". They are really helpful. I joke not. I have taken to going to bed with my iPad, much to French Husband's (FH) fury, and doing a meditation session before sleeping...to really wind down. I even managed to coerce FH into doing the relaxation meditation with me last night.

This morning FH told me that last night I was indeed very relaxed. He pontificated about how he had in fact underestimated the power of the droning voice of the iPad Meditation coach.
He then went on to tell me how at the end when the coach said,

1,2,3 you are now going to come back 4,5,6 becoming more awake 7,8 open your eyes 9,10 you are now fully awake

that my state of relaxation was nothing short of " porcine."
Snoring like a pig.
Out.

Poor FH had to go and sleep in the guest room such was the extent of my " relaxed state!"

Thank you iPad!

I love Nigella Lawson. She is larger than life and her recipe books line my bookshelves. They are recipe books I actually use. Her last book Kitchen,has a plethora of brilliantly easy recipes.

Last night I tested her Cherry Tomato Curry and Coconut Rice. Great for vegetarians and wonderful, colourful, vitamin-packed fodder for children. I did my fennel seed chicken breast on the side...my French son needs to eat somethng which has/had a pulse!

Cherry Tomato Curry

1kg cherry tomatoes, halved
2 large onions, peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tablespoons rapeseed oil (I used olive oil)
2 teaspoons tumeric
1 teaspoon mustard powder(I use mustard seeds)
1 teaspoon hot chilli powder
1 teaspoon garam masala

Heat oil in large wide-based pan. Add chopped onion and sweat for about 7 minutes. Add garlic, then tomatoes then *spices.
Cook for 20 minutes. Turn off.
Re heat to serve.

Nigella serves this with Coconut Rice.See below for recipe.
*a wee hint..mix spices together before adding.The colours alone make this worthwhile.

Nigella's Coconut Rice

2 tablespoons garlic oil
2 teaspoons Nigella seeds
400ml coconut milk
600ml water
juice of a lime

Heat oil, add seeds, rice.
Toss all in oil.
Add coconut milk and water. Cook.
To serve add salt and lime juice.
DIVINE!!

Susie's Fennel Seed and Lime Chicken

Chicken Breasts, sliced through to cook faster.
1 teaspoons fennel seed per chicken breast
Lime juice
Malden salt

Slice through chicken breasts on angles. Squeeze fresh lime juice over each breast. Add Malden salt and roll eachbreast in fennel seeds.
Cook sliced side down. When cooked half way through thickness, turn over.
Serve.

NAVIGATION NIGHTMARES

2011-09-08T08:50:00.002+02:00

When woman meets man... behind the wheel.

Have you ever wondered why your husband watches television with his hands down his pants?

Chances are he is massaging his navigational equipment.
Maintenance!

Now that the holidays are behind us I have taken to dwelling on the more amusing, not to be repeated, aspects of summer holidays.

What is it about men and cars?
My French Husband (herein FH) turns into a sexist 1950's dictator/bully-boy everytime we drive off on holiday. No one can drive the car except for himself - man's domain. No one can give directions - honestly, with FH this is the precipice of personal danger to even try. To try is to make mockery of his very malehood. He will growl and snap, spit scary 50's prototype phrases such as " I am a 40 year old man, I do not need your assistance," " I was a boy scout. I can read maps!" etc.

I have come to the conclusion that, in France ( or is this global?), one needs a penis to drive and balls to navigate!!

We clearly do not need a GPS navigational device...we have FH and, I nearly forgot, his iPhone.
I can be sitting next to him with maps, GPS downloaded on my iPad etc but it has no effect except to berate. The voice on my iPad GPS is ...you guessed it, a woman's!

Can you imagine racing along at 130km/hr with FH clutching iPhone in right hand, driving with the left whilst peering down at iPhone every other 30 seconds and veering off to the right everytime. It is HAIR RAISING!! This DesperateAngloHousewife has been known to break out into a sweat and scream out her battle-cry of "Who won the war!!!". But I have learnt to sit there, say nothing, clutch my purse and try and remember the words to "Hail Mary!

I think this summer may have brought "closure" however.. Taking one of his famous " short cuts" ( which are usually longer but the idea is you keep moving rather than get stuck in traffic jams...we circumnavigate central France to go to Lyon!), we ended up in Clermont-Ferrand.
It is Saturday morning, market day. Most of the streets are shut. The children and I try to convince FH to take the roads out. But NO, FH decides to go through central Clermont-Ferrand. Picture a car piled up with luggage, children etc driving down the pedestrian STEPS of central Clermont-Ferrand. I said nothing - just smiled and waved at the stunned shop owners and pedestrians.

GPS for Christmas...already ordered.

I need a drink! This one seems appropriate...

Old Fashioned

1 sugar cube
3 dashes Angostura Bitters
2 orange slices
3 oz Bourbon

Place sugar cube at the bottom of your glass. Dash on Bitters. Add one orange slice. "Muddle" these ingredients.
Fill glass with ice cubes. Add Bourbon and stir well.

KEEPING UP

2011-08-31T11:27:00.001+02:00

New perspectives on mother-daughter relationships

Helping my daughter with last minute school projects before the new term made this DesperateAngloHousewife realise that we are well and truly from different generations.

However, recognising the generation gap and accepting the generation gap are two distinct paradigms...

My daughter hit me with our differences this week....struggling over a book review in english, not her first language, she called me in to help out.

Her english teacher had luckily given the students a list of questions to guide them. Everything flowed until we came to this question, " What is the writing style? " She looked at me and said " What a wierd question, it's Times Roman probably size 12."

At first, I will admit to being completely gobsmacked. Then I realised that "writing style" does not mean the same thing to her generation as it does to ours. A generation born to computers...

And here comes the rant....
But it is not just about computers. It is also about the rigidity of french Education Nationale - there is minimal place for expression, written or artistic, even in primary school education.There was never " show and tell", there was never story writing. A sad thing indeed.

Now in an international section run by Americans and British my daughter is experiencing "expression" for the first time in her life.

And it's not too late - not for my daughter to learn about expression nor for her mother to accept our generational differences.Going into the teen years with her now, this experience has been of great value to our challending, yet developing, mother-daughter relationship.

Time for tart!
Gala apples are all coming out now. Sweet and highly perfumed they go well for a simple, easy to make apple tart.

End of Summer Apple Tart

Sheet of flakey pastry
6 small Gala apples, sliced paper thin(long, but consider it therapy!)
1t cinnamon
sachet vanilla sugar (2 raised tablespoons)
1/2 cup ground hazelnuts
2 tablespoons good quality raspberry jam
100gr butter, melted

Preheat oven at 180°.
After spending what seemed hours slicing apples, toss them in cinnamon and vanilla sugar. Set aside.
Roll out pastry sheet and smear with raspberry jam.
Arrange apple slices artistically ( expression!!) over pastry.
Powder with ground hazelnuts and drizzle over melted butter.
Bake in oven..about 30 - 35 mins until golden.

COLD SUMMER, WARM SALAD

2011-07-23T14:39:00.005+02:00

more salad ideas...

Freezing cold mid-July.

As the east coast of the USA suffers a major heat-wave France has pulled out its Winter woolies.
My thermometer has dropped down to 14°!

Actually feel more like a plate of steaming boeuf bourguignon but here is another salad idea, as promised.

I remember the first time I ate a warm salad...baby spinach leaves tossed around in a hold pan, thrown onto a garlicky dressing, topped off with hot hot lardons and their pan juices. I LOVED it!

Although salads are a must for we desperateanglohousewives, the cold weather is making my body call out for something a little more comforting than a lettuce leaf.

Here is an easy, but healthy, warm salad with a heart. I use Ravioli du Daphiné - tiny, exquisite, flavour-bursting ravioli stuffed with fresh parsley and cheese.

You can find these in the gourmet fridge in most supermarkets. They are a real bind to work with as they come in "sheets"..to separate, rub your hands in flour first.

Warm Ravioli du Dauphiné Salad

4 tablespoons Olive Oil
2 tablespoons capers
zest and juice of half a lemon
salt and pepper
2 sheets Ravioli du Dauphiné, separated
4 juicy beefsteak tomatos
1 red onion

Make the dressing - oil, lemon zest and juice, capers, rough-chopped red onion, in the base of your serving bowl. Give it a quick whisk, enjoy the colours.

Add chopped tomatos, salt and pepper.

Boil water and throw in Ravioli..as they float to the surface pull them out on a slotted spoon and straight into salad bowl.Toss gently to put some heat into olive oil.

Serve "warm" immediately with an enormous glass of Montepulciano.

Take the rest of the bottle to a hot bath, scented candle...

SALAD DAYS

2011-07-18T17:07:00.007+02:00

In search of freshness, ranting!

Lately, this DesperateAngloHousewife has become rather despondent at the lack of decent salads.

I am finding salads either totally lacking originality, misrepresentative of their promised content, limp with age or dripping and greasy, floating around in industrial vinaigrettes.

I am on the warpath!

Like alot of other desperateanglohousewives, I kid myself into thinking that ordering salads will be a great way to induce nymph-like slimness. I would of course do better by spending more money on scarey support knickers and togs with inner panelling!!

Too many salads are full of "bad" ingredients...sweet corn,pre-cooked potato chunks,croutons, high salt content charcuterie, etc - all of which have the cunning habit of sliding down to thighs and waistelines.

Other ingredients can be simply cast as "sad"....industrial vinaigrettes, processed cheeses, precooked saline-injected chicken breast, nasty shrivelled bacon-bits delivered by the kilo, oily croutons flavoured with too many "e" ingredients, dressings spiked with flavour enhancers such as MSG,something which looks like grated carrot but has NO taste, pre-washed lettuce pieces drooping with neglect and age...and the list goes on.

Whilst I'm on a rant I might as well talk about egg in salads. Why do we put up with sliced hard-boiled egg pieces which have turned green around the yolk and smell like a public loo? The whites are so rubbery they just about bounce!!

Mustn't forget "herbes de provence"...awful, dusty, potpourri-type condiment inflicted upon almost every goat cheese salad throughout summer. Leave it out!!!

OH God and what about the relationship some restaurants have been having since the 90s with sliced orange, dried parsley and paprika scattered all over the plate edge. Dreadful!

It just seems to me that it is becoming rarer and rarer to find a salad which isn't a shake up of pre-cooked, pre-prepared, bagged ingredients.

I can think of ONE sole café in the whole of Bordeaux where you can have a salad and feel excited...La Bocca, rue Notre Dame. Go there and indulge yourselves. It is certainly the only café I know which doesn't just throw industrial ingredients onto a plate and sell it as a gourmet salad! Their salads are honest, delicious, fresh and original.

I am going to suggest some salads over the next few posts which will hopefully have some impact on your tastebuds and remind you that what we are buying in restaurants is simply not up to scratch.

A good salad doesn't need a huge quantity of ingredients - 5 or 6 ingredients is more than enough. Choose seasonal veg and herbs, high quality oils and extras.

Pecorino, Tuna, Fresh Basil and Summer Tomato Salad

Thinly sliced strips of Pecorino Pepato(I use a cheese slicer or a potato peeler to slice this)
Medium sized tin of high quality white tuna*
1 red onion, chopped finely
Handful of capers
Scissorcut fresh basil
Organic cherry tomatoes
Olive oil 3T
Lemon juice (juice half a lemon)
Malden salt
Black pepper

In a large salad bowl pour in olive oil, lemon juice, pepper and salt to taste. Throw in capers and crush slightly with a fork.
Chop tomatoes roughly, adding scissorcut basil leaves, red onion and tuna. Top with slices of pecorino.

*pantry note - tuna can be replaced with freshly smoked white fish such as Cod.

Toss lightly.

BEWARE PIGEONS!

2011-07-08T14:29:00.005+02:00

Anyone for pigeon pie?

My girlie love of pigeons and other flying litter flew out the window years ago when I was viciously shat upon by a flock of oncoming pigeons...

Scenario : 20 year old student walking up a romantic cobblestoned street in Lausanne. Flock of pigeons ahead, successful dive-bomb of unsuspecting antipodean tourist!

Revolting.

I used to love the electric repulse-pigeon cables at the Chamber of Commerce in Bordeaux. There was no other daily highlight quite like watching an incoming "flying rat" attempt landing on the window ledge only to be propelled off via electric shock. Wonderful!

Gotta give the French some credit for this system for it has certainly got rid of thousands of inner-city pigeons here. A much quicker system than the anglo-saxon "humane" version of pigeon food injected with contraception.

If you think I am absolutely rotten, just remember that pigeons are not only dangerous to certain endangered wild birds and poultry but also carry really heinous diseases which effect humans. In particular - bacteria causing ornithosis, translated to lung tissue in humans, or the fungus Cryptococcus, which also inflicts deadly lung infections, meningitis and meningo - encephalitis in persons with suppressed immune systems, such as aids and other auto-immune disorders.

Last week, cycling off to the last class of the year, I saw a huge flock of pigeons on the road in front of me, feeding. Thinking they would disperse, I continued. They chose to fly off at the very last second. All except one. One scraggy, worm-infested rodent decided to take me on. Ringing my bell, already late, I didn't have time to slow down. To my horror he didn't budge - SQUELCH!!

And I repeat, REVOLTING!!

Time for something sweet! Came across a fabulous, easy chocolate icecream recipe. Chef David Lebovitz calls it the " easiest ice cream recipe...ever!" The trick ingredient is the banana which gives a velveteen texture.
Try it out, it really is very very easy.

Easiest Dreamiest Dark Chocolate Icecream

80 ml milk, whole or low-fat
80 ml Baileys liquor
1 medium-sized ripe banana cut into chunks
15 ml dark rum

55 g bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

Break up the chocolate and melt with the milk in a bain-marie. Blend the melted chocolate mixture with the rum and Baileys in a food processor until smooth.

Pour into a metal container and freeze for at least 4 hours.

FRANCE BEHAVING BADLY

2011-06-29T17:20:00.004+02:00

Just when I had said things were getting better.....

A friend in NZ was telling me about cases of Japanese tourists going into shock over their treatment when in France...bad manners, rude taxi drivers, waiters who yell, shop assistants who make you feel uncomfortable as soon as you enter "their" shop, etc.

To be honest, I kind of " pooh poohed" her (sorry MJ!) because I was rather convinced things were on the mend vis a vis attitudes to clients.

I really did believe that it was finally understood that " the client is king."

WRONG!!

Today this thick-skinned desperateanglohousewife was reduced to tears. I joke not!!

Firstly let me tell you a bit about the Japanese tourist dilemma. Did some research and what I found quite frankly horrified me.

Of the one million or so Japanese who visit Paris every year, a dozen or so tourists a year have to be repatriated from the French capital, suffering from what's become known as "Paris syndrome".
Some polite Japanese tourists suffer when they discover that Parisians can be rude or the city does not meet their expectations. For the Japanese - used to a more polite and helpful society in which voices are rarely raised in anger - the experience of their dream city turning into a nightmare can simply be too much.
The experience can apparently be too stressful for some and they suffer a psychiatric breakdown. The Japanese embassy even has a 24-hour hotline for those suffering from severe culture shock, and can help find hospital treatment for anyone in need.The only permanent cure is to go back to Japan - never to return to Paris.

Source : BBC NEWS, Europe

My experience?
My fabulous girlfriends gave me a gift voucher for a back massage and a facial at a spa in Bordeaux city...down Cours Clemenceau. I was thrilled as had already been there a couple of times plus had given gift vouchers from there myself.

I went along last week to organise a gift voucher for another friend plus book my own appointment. I duly gave my gift voucher to the receptionist who appeared to take note of its contents, took down my name, phone number,etc.

I rolled up today 10 minutes in advance ( yes, am very "anal" about arriving on time!), gave my name and mentioned in passing that I didn't have my gift voucher with me as had come directly from work assuming that as she had already made the appointment, written down details, that this would not be of consequence. Wrong again!!
Madam, without your voucher you cannot have your facial.
But you saw/studied my gift voucher when I booked, I replied, rather surprised.

I was then told that I would have to pay with a cheque, then come back with the voucher to b reimbursed...
I didn't have my cheque book, I told them, and besides it was a gift and, as a matter of principle, I do not want to see the value of it. Minimum morality? I was then sent to the waiting room.

Another woman arrived hrumphing before she even opened her mouth.
Madam, she spat, apparently you have no cheque book, you either pay with a credit card or forego your appointment.

I responded in my casual smiley kiwi way that it was no problem, I could easily come back another day. I was then told on no uncertain terms that if I did that I would lose my appointement altogether. So I said I could hop on my bike and go and get it as only live down the road...still smiling.

She informed me that I had to cancel 24 hours in advance and that I was already losing time off my appointement and that they would raccourcir ( shorten!) my appointment accordingly....and would I please hurry up and take my decision as I was losing time off my facial (do they time them?) as we stood there talking. I tried to explain my misbelief and that the receptionist (who was standing there) had already seen my voucher, plus knew I had bought another for a friend the same day I booked.

Now I was shocked plus feeling insulted...was being treated like a dishonest con-woman and simply did not understand. I said in english, this is incredible! To which I was told it was not at all but " normal procedure."This is " procedure", and we don't know you...
I told her, voice shaking, I felt totally insulted by their treatment of me and could not understand what was going on...alors c'est quoi votre decision?

I tried to act graciously and went for my facial..but first went to the loos to try and stop shaking. Whilst I was there, due to the thinness of the walls, I heard the three of them talking about me. Example : " Pffff, elle est pas bien cette femme!"
So offended, I could hardly get up the courage to get out of the loos but managed to finally hold head high and move on to the appointment...which was definately shorter than previewed. Client sanction!!

The young lady who gave me my facial apologised for the problems and went ahead with a very quick back massage and facial which started by rubbing oil into my face WITHOUT removing my makeup first!!

For a spa which calls itself a "Villa" and pretends to be prestigious this was all a bit too rude. When I paid ( for my gift!), I mentioned that it might be an idea to mention to her colleagues that the walls of the toilets are rather thin and that I had heard everything that was said about me.
I cycled home, grabbed my gift voucher, went back there, left it, was duly given a cheque for the same amount I paid. Very classy!!

I stopped and spoke to a friend on the way home and simply broke down in tears. I was still shaking.

The client is definately NOT king in France. I was wrong.
I am saddened and disappointed. I am disappointed for all the good people in France, those who DO give good service and treat clients with respect. Ultimately, they suffer as their perfection is tarnished by such people as I encountered today.

Please tell DesperateAngloHousewives your opinion...

PORN for HOUSEWIVES?

2011-06-27T13:20:00.007+02:00

Battle of the sexes...continued.

Growing up in New Zealand in the 70s we had two TV stations - TVNZ 1 and TVNZ 2.

We were more than happy that we had some choice. Pioneer spirit!

When we flicked on the telly at 6 30 sharp after dinner to watch the news, we had the choice of a gracious 50's prototype blond with tight perm on one station and her brunette twin on the other.

Today I am frankly overwhelmed and amazed by the choice. Over 700 stations on our cable box.
Nobody can convince me we "need" 700 tv stations. But here we are in our high tech bubbles with WIFI invading our homes bringing with it telephone, web connection and all those tv channels for the price of 29.99 a month. A bargain!

A couple of weeks ago my french husband ( herein FH) opened our cable bill, ran upstairs to the office to make an urgent phone call. Stacking all the linen back in place ( as you do when you are a desperateanglohousewife goddess!) I heard him conversing in a rather, well, panicked fashion...

There seems to be an error with my account. It is for over 80 euros ( spurl of ahahahahahaha bonhomie nervous male laughter)....No I don't think that can be right...what?!.since October..oh right..well thank you madam...

Hangs up. FH walks briskly past me in the corridor and says, very tight lipped, quite pale...We need to have a little talk?
I continue stacking, not really fully appreciative of being spoken to like a teenager by someone who is apparently my husband. Next thing I know my mobile buzzes. A message from the same...Bravo Susie for subscribing to a porn sation!

Curiosity drives me to the kitchen and my poor FH who is now nervously clutching a glass of wine...or was it a "tisane?"
Turns out we have been subscribed to a porn channel for several months. FH furious with ME..yes he thinks it is moi who has purposely subscribed. Actually couldn't contain my laughter, telling him the only porn film I have ever seen was at a student party in Sweden in 1986 called " The Goat"...need I say more, it totally abated any slight curiosity for this type of "expression."

But you are the only person who knows the code! I remind him gently that the code is ( now "was"!) his birthday, also known by both our children, both teenagers. Don't think we will be needing Hercule Poirot to solve this story. He begged me not to say anything to our son for fear of "embarassing" him. Mon dieu!!! Where did equality go?

Last week FH called me from Brittany where he was taking a sailing course. After filling me in on the Biggles-type adventures he'd been having he asked me what I was doing that night. Ah, I replied, staying in and watching some television...

Mmmmwah, Mmmmwah, DAHLING !

2011-06-20T14:18:00.005+02:00

Kissing in France

I was a terrible french student as a school girl.

In fact, I would say that I was one of the worst in my entire school year.
In later life I wish I had been one of the "girly swots" in the front row.

I ended up in Switzerland as a student in the 1980s.
Walking into a rather chic-chic dinner party feigning comfort about the oncoming motions of kissing everyone in the room...I walked up to my hosts, opened my arms, saying "On baise!?" which basically means, " Let's fuck!"

Those of you who are grammatically inclined will know my error was based on confusion between a noun and verb -same word, different meanings. The noun baiser means " a kiss" and nothing untoward where as the verb baiser can be implied as the "f" word or even to shaft somebody in the swindling sense.

Fortunately for me my grammatical error was made in the presence of polite, rather safe, Swiss friends. I will add that they remained quite silent for what seemed an eternity to my uncomprehending self.

So why am I writing about this.?
Apart from my obvious traumatism, I am still this day really uncomfortable about kissing rather than hand-shaking in certain circumstances. Even though I know that it is about greeting, congratulating, happy birthday-ing and nothing more, I still get the odd blush.

Let me add that the blushes of this 40-something desperateanglohousewife are nothing compared to the major anguish I suffered as a 20 year old student in Switzerland. In France at least the kiss is only 2-fold Mmmmwah Mmmmwah. In Switzerland it was 4-fold!!...Mmmmwah Mmmmwah Mmmmwah Mmmmwah.
Depending on the chap who was greeting me, my reactions ranged from blush to sweaty break-out to folding knees! How can any rather naive, young, kiwi lass of 20 who has hardly even been kissed by her parents ( we weren't a kissing family!!) be expected to cope with such things!!

I was pondering on just this after a work "do" this weekend. Call me old -fashioned, but even after all these years I simply CAN NOT contemplate greeting my male colleagues in any way other than a brisk handshake. My director always shoots out his hand, he understands and accepts my anglo quirks. This weekend my other male colleagues totally ignored my thrust-out hand and did the " tonight we will do the bise " routine.
My knees didn't fold, but I was still blushing!

I joined in the movement after a while, throwing away my anglo uptight self, confident in the knowledge that at least now I get the grammar right!!

One of my absolute favourite cakes is the Ginger Kiss. They were a major source of joy in my kiwi childhood.
Seems an appropriate recipe for today's post..

Ginger Kisses

230g butter
2 eggs
3/4 cup fine white sugar
2 cups flour
1 level teaspoon baking soda
1 level teaspoon baking powder ( use whole sachet if you are in France and forget the soda..)
1 tablespoon golden syrup
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
For the icing..
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup icing sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla essence
1/2 teaspoon zest of lime ( optional)
2 tablespoons boiling water

Method

Preheat the oven to 160 C.
Cream butter and sugar, add egg and beat well.

Mix in dry ingredients and soda dissolved in 1/4 cup boiling water.

Place teaspoonfuls of batter on cold greased trays bake for 15 minutes.Allow to cool on a wire cake rack.
Mix together butter, icing sugar, vanilla and boiling water, beating until light and creamy.
Ice cooled kisses together.

YES WE CAN!

2011-06-10T09:48:00.006+02:00

On dogs, etc.

One of my anglo neighbours had me laughing out loud this week.

He had been really shocked at how rude and disrespectful someone in the french administration had been to him...surprise, surprise.

He said,

"Do you know why the french are so outrightly rude and why dogs lick their balls?

Simply, because they can."

After nearly 20 years living in France I have become somewhat immune to the french "attitude rude." In fact I would go as far as to say it's not as bad as it once was.

I remember being so shocked myself that I often couldn't reply. I then moved on to " bite back" mode, which got me nowhere fast.

My way of dealing with this cultural difference now is to simply wrinkle my innocent forehead and say, " Excusez moi?"..feigning miscomprehension, needing repetition. This achieves 99% positive results - usually a smile and an explanation, even the odd apology. Rudeness repeated always weakens the offender...and by the way, this method also works with snotty teenagers.

All that aside, I did have my own rude experience this week....
Our dog, love of our lives, dislocated his knee cap, thereby needing an operation which not only had a fee of 4 digits before the decimal point but cost more than the dog himself! I asked the fee over the phone and took along a bank cheque ( which cost me 13 euros!). When I passed over the cheque, the receptionist didn't even say thank you. She looked at it and said,

Where's the 40 centimes? The fee is one thousand, three hundred and thirty eight euros AND FORTY CENTIMES, Madam!

All this said rather loudly with about 10 other people in the waiting area.I hadn't heard the 40 centimes when she had given the fee over the phone I explained. She muttered something under her breath. That was it! I took out my wallet and painstakingly counted out of my smallest change possible the forty centimes. I passed over the wee fistful of mostly 1, 2 and 5 centime pieces and said with a smile, Would you mind verifying that it is the right amount?

ARE WE ALL CHAMBERMAIDS?

2011-05-28T18:38:00.005+02:00

the mono-directional pendulum

Down Boy!!

DSK and the maid
Arnie and the maid..and the illicit offspring
Clinton and the intern
JFK and the actress, etc
Mel Gibson and the porn star..and the video!Plus...Mel Gibson hitting his girlfriend
Charlie Sheen and several pornstars....on the video, abusive behaviour, etc
Tiger Woods and all those " gals"
President Mitterand and the odd illegitimite child
Julien Assange..did he do it?
Berlusconi's habits

A pattern?

The last few weeks have left the global public appalled and frankly, dismayed by their "public people."

What is it about men with power?

How is that some of the "chaps," global advisors, governors and the like, voted in by their public, turn into predators around women?

In France, women are beginning to become sick of the country's elite, influential and academic standing up for DSK - DSK le libertin. My legal background has taught me one thing to reply to these mysogynous commentaries*...yes, DSK is certainly innocent until proven guilty but that doesn't mean the maid is une menteuse (a lier) until that time. Shouldn't we be examining the "spines" of our public figures rather than casting doubt on the women who were brave enough to stand up.

If there was ever a time for women in France to band together, it is now. Something has to change..everyday sexism should not be tolerated. In France it is not only tolerated but accepted and embraced, in public, private and professional life, as part of our " southern culture"....rings a bell, wasn't that what they said about segregation in southern USA?

DSK victimised by the USA justice system? Come on, don't make me laugh...you make your bed, you lie in it!

So are we women all "chambermaids" in the eyes of powerful men? I would hope not to all,but there is still a perverted minority whose power is a matter of mattress rather than a matter of mind.

*Jack Lang, " it's not like someone died!"

*JF Kahn, journalist, the whole Sofitel affair was just " the lifting of a maid's skirt"

And now for a cocktail....

A "Lucky Stiff" Cocktail

4 oz Cranberry juice
2 oz Orange curacao
2 oz Gin

Shake and pour over ice cubes....

GET THIN GET THIN GET THIN

2011-05-15T17:57:00.003+02:00

The French Spring Battle-Cry!

That time of the year again when this desperateanglohousewife feels like the poster-girl for too many culinary indulgences over Winter (...autumn, winter, spring, summer, autumn, winter..!)

Every magazine, pharmacy window, pop-up and flyer are constantly telling me Mincir, mincir, mincir.

It's the annual self-cringe moment when, in France, the gorgeous snake-hipped, unhealthily slim french woman gets, well, even slimmer.

It is a dreadful time of the year to live in this country...
Instead of telling myself I have an anglo/scottish heritage of tall, big-boned women to blame for my curves, I :

1. Do the French thing of hissing and spitting at myself.
2. Take a "cure" of something with enormous amounts of herbs and plants which renders me utterly loo-bound
3. Stop buying butter!
4. Watch Georgy Girl** for the 100th time and cry into my chardonnay.

This year things have to change. Basic logic tells me it is not at 40-something that I am going to transform overnight into a French-sized nymph/goddess.

I have discovered the ease and delight of shopping on UK shop websites which deliver to France...no more trying to squeeze into humiliating French sunfrocks where the waist is about an inch below my boobs, my arms look like sausages and where 'knee-length' still shows my hockey-knees to the world instead of falling just below them!
Instead of dealing with the shop-girl smirks as I try to button up something across my chest where the button holes seem out on my shoulders, I now click onto Next, Monsoon, Johnny Boden, House of Fraser, and the like. I love the way my goods arrive and simply...fit.

For my health and well-being, I have cut out as much gluten as is reasonably possible and start the day with a fruit and vegetable smoothie. Lunch is an enormous salad and dinner chilled soups or misos. My shape probably won't change much, apart from shedding a few surplus kilos, but I feel infinitely better in both health and womanhood at 40-something!

**ps. Georgy Girl, The Seekers..;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSVfLNCW4Fs

Fresh Blueberry, Banana and Carrot Juice Smoothie

1 large banana
1 cup fresh blueberries ( if you can't find fresh, Picard have them)
1 cup organic carrot juice
juice of half a lemon/lime
2 - 3 ice cubes

Whizz ingredients for about 30 seconds. Drink immediately.

A ROYAL WEDDING

2011-04-29T08:40:00.002+02:00

Why we love them...

What is it about a royal wedding which interests even the most cynical of us?

Kiwi, republican by nature ( not in the US political sense!), hugely cynical, feminist...I can hardly wait to see Kate's dress today and William in his millitary reds.

Instead of going into work I am one of many expats gathering with their friends and "fairy cakes" to watch the big event.

William and Kate's story is a break away from tradition, the smashing of the mould - it's the union of a royal to a commoner. It would appear that the royals have finally understood that love today cannot be tailor-made. Today, for the royal family to maintain its credibility, or that which remains, it has adapted its cocooned infrastructure to the real world. Whereas Charles and Diana were a fairytale, untouchable, William and Kate are a real couple.

It saddened me to hear a french psycologist "analysing" the danger of this union. She spoke about "princess complex," the dangers of dreaming, little boys turning into modern-day Narcissus with "prince complex"... honestly, a load of dribble. We do need something " soft" in this world and William and Kate's story allows us to dream and admire. What is wrong with dreaming, using our imaginations..isn't that the basis for all art, literature, music? A part of our cultural foundation?

So what is it?

I believe that in this world packed with violence and cruelty, a royal wedding gives us a moment of reprise from the harsh realities of our daily trudge. It is also romantic, enormously romantic.
The story of love is something which touches everybody. Even this crusty, cynical 40-something will be wearing waterproof mascara today..

HUSBANDS WHO DO HOUSEWORK

2011-04-16T17:24:00.005+02:00

Paradoxes unite!!

This morning my husband did some housework.

This is something which happens once or twice a year when he thinks that I am about to leave on a 5 star spa mini-break with his credit card because I simply cannot take anymore of doing everything...yes,EVERYTHING!

He cleaned his bathroom and vacuumed the stairs...
and he did this naked.

Getting my husband to do housework has become somewhat of an ordeal. A case of - he doesn't like doing it, he doesn't feel like it, therefore, he won't do any.

The nude carry-on this morning came as a surprise. I wondered whether it was provocation - reverse psychology designed to make me remark ( in my insidious female way!!) and for him to turn around, throw in the sponge etc etc.

But after all these years I have learnt something...don't say anything. I just let him get along with his pantomime....and meantime I had cleaned all the loos, the other bathroom,bedrooms, kitchen, living rooms, office, ironed, washed etc etc. And all, fully dressed.

I started looking up articles on the web about this situation with chaps who just don't pull their weight around the house. I thought it was maybe just a "french male" thing. Again.
My search came up with 1 350 000 results. Having spent the last 3 hours reading through articles and opinion polls I can now officially say....I am NOT alone!

One of the most interesting articles from USA Today reported that regardless of the fact that women work, men are not doing more housework. And often in countries where more women work, for example France, men are doing even less than before. It appears to be very much related to gender-specific ideas about marriage. Sadly the figures show that defacto couples share the housework more than married couples.
Here are the statistics of "how much is done by whom" from 8 of the 28 countries studied:

Men Women

Australia 39.1 70.3

Czech Republic 32.2 28.6

France 30.9 78.3

Israel 29.7 75.1

Mexico 36.2 70.4

Russia 35.8 68.6

Sweden 36.3 67.3

United States 37.3 70.6

Source: Journal of Family Issues; data self-reported, not always equaling 100%

To conclude I can say that I have learnt alot from reading others' comments...the key is not to get aggressive or mouthy but apparently to "butter him up." As one women wrote,

"I never moan. I just say, very sweetly and politely, 'Honey, I know you are busy' or 'Honey, I know it's your day off, but can you help me here? I really need a strong pair of arms like yours. My grandmother said to all of us, 'You get more bees with honey than vinegar.' Boy, ain't that the truth!"

My grandmother used to say, " Whatever gets the job done..." and frankly if that means my husband strutting around the house butt-naked with the vacuum cleaner, so be it!!

Spring is here. Time for some fresh chilled soups to clear the head.
Here's one of my favourites. A tangy, spicey chilled cucumber soup which is easy to make and lasts 2 days in the refrigerater.

Chilled Cucumber Coriander Soup

2 kg cucumbers – peeled and roughly cubed

1 medium red onion – peeled and roughly chopped

2 garlic cloves

1 teaspoon green Tabasco

Chopped fresh coriander (2 – 3 tablespoons)

1 teaspoon liquid honey

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Juice of one lemon

1 teaspoon Malden salt

200ml natural yogurt

½ cup water

Throw all the ingredients into food processor and blend until smooth.Chill minimum 3 hours or, even better, overnight.

Serve in glasses with a swizzle of good quality olive oil,a dash of lime zest and a flake or two of Malden salt.