RIP Biscuit (2013 - 2018)

We got Biscuit back in 2013 around November time. We went to see a little girl kitten, we had no idea how tiny she'd be, or for that matter, how flea infested.

She was a kind of oatmeal brown at first and Oatmeal may well have been her name, had it not been such a mouthful and inappropriate for such a pretty little girl.

We then considered Amber. It was a cute name for our new little kitten.

My first job was to wash her. As I said, she was riddled with fleas, so Pen went to the Pharmacy to get some flea shampoo.

"It had better be good," she said. "It was about 16€"
Well, the thing about cats is, most of them don't like water and Amber was no different. Thankfully, as you can see from the picture of her sat next to an egg-cup, she was too small to be able to escape the bath, although she complained bitterly.

If you've ever heard a kitten wail, believe me, it tugs massively on the heart strings.

Anyway, she was in the bottom of the bath having been soaked ready to be de-flead, while I double-checked the instructions on the flea shampoo.

For a cat of her age, the dose was (according to the bottle) about half a teaspoon. Have you ever tried to stretch shampoo that far? It didn't work for me either, so I just added it little by little until I got an all over lather.

Meanwhile, Amber was none too impressed by this and was now exercising what would later become her rather famous claws.

Eventually, I finished, rinsed and wrapped her in a towel. She was not a happy puppy - sorry kitten, I can tell you, but I snuggled her in to give her some body heat and shortly thereafter, Pen took over.

Suddenly, we found ourselves with a ginger tiger, who was the prettiest thing you can imagine.

She made us laugh and she made us howl in equal measure. For some reason, she loved being on my shoulders and one day while relieving myself, she decided to climb up on daddy's shoulders.

There was nothing I could do. I mean, I was standing there before the loo, while this little cat employed all twenty claws to aid its climb, oblivious to my shrieking in pain.

It was shortly after this that she got her first visit to the vets.

"Oh, what a pretty little boy..." Sylvie, the vet said.

"Boy?"

"Definitely," she assured us. "He's small, but—" she held him up again. "Yes, definitely a boy."

So "Amber" was not Amber after all and we decided a more masculine name would be in order, which was where Biscuit came in. It seemed to fit and stuck right there and then. Of course, it got messed with, depending upon whether he was being cute or a right little bastard. My particular favourite was "Bikkit".

He never really grew. He was always small and it became a thing that we'd have to convince people that he really was a cat and not a kitten, but as small as he was, he had a giant personality.

He fitted with us beautifully and about the only thing we had to be wary of, was escape—his!

We live right in the centre of a village in Orne and whilst it may be a sleepy little place most of the time, in typical French fashion, the French take elements of the highway code to be suggestions only. So when it comes to little things like speed limits and such, once again, they're rarely adhered to. Some of the people who have driven through our village cannot possibly have been doing 50kmh, so Biscuit had to be an indoor cat.

Try telling him that!

Every time the door was opened, he'd suddenly appear and scamper off, tail in the air. The only thing missing was a sign saying, "Chase me, chase me."

He got out once and was missing for an entire week. We were beside ourselves with worry. We tried looking everywhere, but as a neighbour pointed out, if a cat doesn't want to be seen, it won't be.

Of course, he returned ... well, kind of.

I happened to be walking round the corner to a friend's house, when this little orange cat strutted across the road.

"Biscuit?" I called, unsure.

He turned, let out this incredibly loud wail and ran to me. I picked him up and he immediately went to my shoulders.

We have never been so relieved.

Sadly, Biscuit never learned from his misadventure. We got him back covered in ticks, thin and tired, but it didn't stop him from trying to get out any time the door was opened.

Biscuit was about two when Fidget appeared. He wailed outside our house and when I opened the door, this tiny kitten with huge ears strolled in, used the litter tray and stayed.

They weren't immediate friends, but within three days, they got along perfectly.

And so it was.

Biscuit and Fidget became the best of friends. Their antics in the mornings and other times of the day too, made us roar with laughter.

Fidget grew to be a really big cat, where Biscuit remained really small. He just didn't know it.

So for the better part of two years, we had two cats, but over this last weekend, Biscuit wasn't himself. We'd spoken to other cat owners who said that it was probably the hot weather.

We came down on Sunday morning and he was hiding under a table. He was weak and had obviously been sick during the night. He'd tried to drink and eat, but all that happened was he'd bring it back up again.

We rang the emergency vet and took him up there, where the vet discovered a lump. With Ultrasound, he reasoned that it had grown quickly and to such a degree that it was actually blocking Biscuit's digestive tract, which was why everything was just coming back up. He was even weaker by then and terribly dehydrated.

We left him there in the hopes that when the vet put him on a drip and gave him some pain meds, he'd rally. That being the case, he may have been well enough to be operated on the next morning and perhaps the tumour could be removed.

It was not to be.

Apparently, Biscuit did rally during the night, but lost the battle in the early hours of Monday morning.

We were devastated.

As much as he was a little bugger, he was a wonderful friend and pet. Over the four years and change that we had the pleasure of his company, he was nothing but a superb companion to both Penny and I and a brother to Fidget, who at present, is quite bewildered by his friend's sudden disappearance.

We retrieved him from the vet on Monday morning and buried him just under out window in the garden later. It's ironic I know, but at least he can be outside now, which was all he ever wanted to be, but couldn't.

Jardins des Renaudies

It's that time of year again

This is not the first year I've been to Les Jardins Renaudies and taken photos.

We mainly go because our friends have a stall there and give us a couple of free passes, but we also go because it's a beautiful place to visit.

At this time of year, the leaves are all turning gold, through russet to red and gold, making everything feel the need to ready itself for the coming of winter.

This year's no exception.

22 Feast of Pumpkins

This time at Les Renaudies, it's also the fete de citrouilles - which are pumpkins. If you thought that these were simply the huge orange things that get carved horrific designs cut into them, you'd be wrong.

I've probably covered this before, but it bares mentioning as from the photo (right), you can see that as far as squashes are concerned, there are more than you can shake a copse of trees at - yes, that's copse, not corpse!

These Do's at Jardins Des Renaudies have been getting steadily bigger each time we've been to them, whether it's spring, summer or autumn and the number of people going has been increasing too.

And why not?

It's a great day out, or even a couple of hours wandering round the huge gardens, with the music playing, the smell of barbecue grills and Autumn in the air.

There's plenty to do for everyone with stalls selling artisanal wares from bread to honey, from Angoran woollies to face-painting for the kids (or adults too if you're of a mind), to hand-made jewellery to wines and even Calvados (if you're feeling brave!)

This year, on top of the stalls and kiddie-shaped attractions, they had lots of birds too.

I was surprised to see some Sussex Hens taking pride of place along with pigeons - like the one (right), which are uncommon.








The hens and cock (left) are tiny compared to others I have seen, standing at not much over a foot tall.

The Mandarin ducks (right) were very unexpected, but nevertheless breathtakingly beautiful.

Sadly, with the light and my lack of photographic skills, much of that is lost in the pictures.

This chap (left) looks like a real cartoon, if there is such a thing. I have absolutely no idea what he is, but he's an amusing chap!

Of course, I had to finish with an artistic shot - or what I take that passes for something approaching artistic anyway...

The final comice

This was something that as I understand it, happened once every eight years in Passais. The intervening years, it was held at one of seven other places.

Last year was the last one, I think - but I'm not 100% certain - that thanks to the fact that Passais, St Mars d'Egrenne and St Simeon have joined together, the comice will not happen again.

Any-who, while it was going, I took a whole bunch of photos and some video footage. I was hoping to create a slideshow and post it a lot sooner than this, but it didn't happen. Thankfully, with this year's Vide Grenier (which was cancelled last year in favour of the comice) about to happen this weekend, I was spurred into action and posted it earlier today on YouTube.

So anyway, here it is.

I hope you all enjoy it.

The return of the prodigal pussy

Sunday 22 Nov: 11am

We had just finished a long week of work and were looking forward to having Sunday off. It's not often that we do nothing, but on this particular day, it seemed like we had earned it.

The morning was cold and for a treat, we decided to light the wood burner, put our feet up and get into some TV. So while I prepared the fire, Pen went to the garage to get a few extra logs.

We had no idea that the back door had not been properly shut and since she had also pulled the curtain across the door to keep the draft out, we never actually saw Biscuit as he made his escape.

About two hours later, I opened the curtain and discovered the back door ajar.

"Shit!" I exclaimed and ran round the house like a demented idiot calling out, "Biscuit! Biscuit!" and with no sign of our cat, both of us went straight into panic mode.

We were out for ages, scouring the neighbourhood for our little cat, but with no success and Pen was beside herself. Well, we both were.

I put out posts on several lost pet sites on the internet, with descriptions of Biscuit, while Pen phoned people we knew in the area for them to keep their eyes open in case they spotted him.

Of course, everyone was commiseratory, wishing us "bon courage", "good luck" and other words of hope, but as the days went by, we were beginning to think that whether he had nine lives or not, he wouldn't survive out there in the big, wide world and wasn't coming back.

We were told by a friend that when she had moved house and let her cats out, they would take three or four days to return, so once again, hope was rekindled and we redoubled our efforts to try and find him. 

We posted posters of Biscuit in the shops and pharmacy and hoped against hope that someone would spot him and call us. We even left our kitchen window open, so that if he did find his way home, he would have a way into the house, but all it did was make the place bloody freezing for us.

Pen went out at around twilight one evening with a bag of Catisfactions (known as Dreamies in the UK) as just the noise of the bag could bring him from anywhere in the house. Down a little alley in the village, about twenty cats appeared, but by then and with no torch, Pen couldn't see whether Biscuit was among them.

So every evening thereafter, we went out several times in the hopes that we would be able to see him and draw him away from them and get him to come home.

... but we had no luck at all.

Living in quite a rural location, our village, whilst sporting many amenities, is relatively small and has many potential hiding places. Finding a small cat like Biscuit would have been more down to luck than judgement and even if we were just a few feet from him, he could have gone unnoticed.

Also, our village, like most other rural villages here in Normandy has a 50 kph speed limit. Nevertheless, it appears that speed limits are nothing more than suggestions to the population of rural France. People whip down the main road like their lives depended upon it, with little - if any - regard for the lives of people, let alone little animals like Biscuit. We have lost count of how many cat pancakes we have seen as a result of speeding drivers.

Day six

We had all but lost hope by the end of day five and by then, the idea that Biscuit had fallen foul of a lunatic driver, one of the many birds of prey or even another cat was a very real possibility.

We weren't prepared to give up, but our efforts were beginning to seem more and more futile with each passing day and what was worse, no-one had called to say they'd seen him.

So on the morning of day six, we had virtually accepted the fact that whilst we wanted nothing more than to have Biscuit back in our home, it probably wasn't going to happen. We had resigned ourselves to being Biscuitless to such a degree that we hadn't even left the window open before going off to work.

By eleven, we decided to make coffee for us and the man who was laying the flooring, but we had run out of what we'd taken with us, plus there was no milk either.

I was sent home to get some more as well as a few other bits and pieces and on my return, a little ginger cat crossed my path.

"Biscuit?" I said, not really believing it could possibly be him.

Immediately, the little cat turned and in a loud, clear voice, "Meowed", before he running straight towards me. I bent down and picked him up to head for the house we were working in, all the while, Biscuit sat on my shoulder, meowing louder than ever.

Pen couldn't believe her eyes and after lots of stroking and cuddling of the cat, we brought him home. He got a bowl of food, which he munched his way through without pausing for breath, so I imagine he didn't eat much during his time away.

Pen went back to work, but I stayed to keep Biscuit company. She'll be back shortly and I don't suppose Biscuit will get a quiet moment for some time.

Right now, he's curled up on my lap as I write this, quietly snoozing away after an adventure we'll never get to hear about. 

Shame. We'd really like to know what happened.

Fit for purpose

Something that's fit for purpose, is something that actually does what it is supposed to do.

We have all heard the recent news about VW and the fact that their cars are not actually doing that. They're deficient in some way and this is set to cost the company millions.

But what about other products that are advertised to do something and don't?

Ronseal advertise their products with the phrase, "Does exactly what it says on the tin", and it does.

I wish that could be applied to all products, but sadly, this is not the case, as I have found out.

My experience however, has not been with Ronseal - my experiences with their products are that their claims are true: their products do exactly what they suggest they will.

No, my recent experience concerns McAfee's Virus protection software.

It's a sad fact of life that we all need virus protection on our computers, as malware, viruses and other malevolent code can attack our computers at any time.

These attacks can cause all sorts of problems, as most of us have documents, photos, videos and many other files on our computers that we hold dear and on top of those, we also have information regarding our banking, mortgages, taxes and much more personal information, none of which we can do without, and none of which we want falling into the hands of the unscrupulous elements who would wish to steal our identities.

So when you're looking for a virus protection program, which one do you opt for? Do you opt for something you haven't heard of or do you choose something that is recommended to you?

If you're like me, you'll do a little surfing and find out what other people say about the proprietary and lesser-known brands before you shell out your hard-earned on something you're about to trust to keep all the above-mentioned information safe.

Ironically, I was in two minds whether I opted for McAfee or a free system. Avast came very close to being the chosen program, but I thought that there was no way I could get the same level of protection from something that was free compared to something that all the computers sold nowadays are pre-loaded with; at least on a thirty-day trial basis.

Boning up in this instance didn't help, as the information I found, did not warn me about McAfee's issues with Win XP. In fairness, when I first got McAfee, there wasn't an issue.

Yes, I know. XP is an operating system that has ceased to receive support from Microsoft since April 8th 2014. However, as I have discovered, there are many people who like me, continue to use equipment that cannot be upgraded. It may be old, but it's not obsolete - yet and it does exactly what it says on the tin.

McAfee appear to be in denial that their product and XP are incompatible.

Odd really, as they were quick enough to take my money for the second licence, a fee they upped by nearly 50% in the second year and after their product's issues with XP were discovered.

I of course tried the help - which for this is on-line. The program asked me for my country and preferred language, however, my country is France and my preferred language is English. Sure I can converse in French and understand some technical stuff, but it's easier and quicker for me to get through stuff in English, but McAfee wouldn't let me. Naturally, I discovered nothing.

Sending McAfee a message to let them know that I wasn't happy yielded nothing either. Their customer service never even replied to say they would look into it.

Disappointing.

So in a fit of pique, I decided to delete McAfee from my computer. It told me that I still had a valid subscription, so worried that I may be acting in haste, I cancelled the deletion. Lo and behold, it appeared to cure the issue, the download went ahead and everything was again up-to-date.

At that time, my XP machine was used only occasionally, but in the last few days, we have found need for both and once again, as soon as I'd booted it up, McAfee's program went into overdrive, locking all the resources and preventing me from doing anything.

After leaving it for nine hours to download the updates and having pulled a lot of my now very grey hair from my head, I decided I'd had had enough. I uninstalled McAfee and installed Avast instead. Now my machine runs as sweet as a nut and from what I have discovered, Avast is about the best out there, its free download competing with its subscribed counterparts.

Once McAfee runs out on my other machine, it will be uninstalled and Avast put in its place too.

I have of course sent yet another message to McAfee's customer service people to let them know that I cannot deal with products that are not in my opinion, "Fit for purpose". I told them in no uncertain terms that I wasn't happy with the level of service or treatment I have received from them or the way product has failed to work on so many levels. I told them that I would not be renewing my subscription - which went through automatically earlier this year - so this time don't even think about taking my subscription.

I even received a reply this time.

They had disabled automatic payment.

That's the only good thing they have done. They have not - like other companies - asked if there was any way they could improve the service or if they could change my mind, so I can only think they really don't care.

In all honesty, McAfee has kept my machine safe, but I believe I am well rid of this overpriced piece of junk. Okay, it might protect my PC, but it hogs resources and becomes intrusive, preventing normal use of the PC, which I consider poor. In addition, they should have been more forthcoming regarding my XP machine, but instead, they said nothing. I cannot think of a more user unfriendly program and I have been using computers since the days of DOS.

In short, in my opinion. it really isn't fit for purpose.

Google and the English spell-checker

I have always liked Google. I use their search engine and their browser and here I am using their space for blogging. My English is reasonably good, but like others, I often suffer from 'Digital Dyslexia'.

This is where I think my fingers are hitting one key, when in fact, they have hit the wrong key and then end up with a typo.

Up until a little while ago, I used to be able to spot this easily, which is fortunate, because it happens with boring regularity and the faster I type, the more often it occurs.

You can imagine my dismay when I discovered that my spelling was being highlighted when in fact, I hadn't spelt anything incorrectly. In fact, as I sit here, Google in its infinite wisdom has decided to highlight 'spelt', yet my use of this word is not incorrect.

Spelt definition: a simple past tense and past participle of 'spell'

So what's wrong with it?

I think Google is trying to remove British English from the internet - invented by an Englishman, by the way - and has removed British English from its spell checker.

Now I realise this is a free service (realise in English does not have a 'Z', but an 'S'), but I don't understand why British English should be removed. They haven't removed French, German or any of the other languages from their spell checker.

I've said this before and it looks as if I will have to say it again: American English is no longer the same as British English.

• We do not have sidewalks, but pavements. We walk on pavements, we don't (or shouldn't) drive on them.
• We do not have windshields, we have windscreens.
• Knickers are forms of feminine underwear and pants are the male form.
• Fenders are not car bumpers, but the plastic or rope things that hang off the side of boats.
• Trunks are large cases and boots are what Americans call trunks.
• A bonnet is what you open to see the engine and a hood goes over your head.
• If you are tired, it means you lack energy and would like to sleep, it doesn't mean that you have a new set of radials. Those are tyres (which the spell checker has again marked as incorrect).
• The man dragged the body out, he didn't drug it out. A Drug is a medicine or other substance which has a physiological effect when ingested or otherwise introduced into the body.
• The man dived into the water, he didn't dove into the water. A dove is a bird.

As you can see with the few examples above, British English differs from American English in numerous ways and therefore should be treated as a separate language. America is not the only English speaking country in the world, in fact, they are only a small proportion of English speakers and thanks to our 250 year (or so) separation, the American version of English has evolved and not in the same way as British English.

That's your prerogative, America, but let's get this straight. American English is now sufficiently different to British English (or the English that's used in the rest of the world), with its own dictionaries etc, that it's high time it was just called American and not English.

In the meantime, Google, can we have our spell checker back, please?

I'm going slightly mad...

For those of you who don't know, my wife and I live in a small village in Normandy, France. By chance, our village is wicked quick for the internet due to the telephone exchange being here.

For that reason, we are having all our electrical and phone feeds changed from above ground to below ground. We will also be getting fibre optic feeds, but that's going to be happening later.

We were informed some time ago that work would begin in September and true to their words, the work began last week and some of the houses and the school round the corner, got the new electrical boxes mounted on the outside of their buildings.

Ours began yesterday, so for about an hour, the man cut a appropriately-sized hole in our wall, to set the box into, his big Kango demolition hammer rattling a number of chunks of plaster off the wall in our kitchen/dining room behind where it will be placed.

We didn't mind, as it was only a small amount and when we spoke to the man himself, he promised that today he would come and repair it. Well, a couple of hours after he saw it, a larger chunk fell off and repairs have been postponed until tomorrow as he didn't have enough plaster to fix the huge chasm that had been exposed.

Meanwhile, work continues and they started next door, working their way up the road and the other buildings. It seems that whatever the next door's facade is made of, he can't get through it and so, from 08:30 this morning, with a ten minute break for coffee about half ten and lunch hour - or portion thereof - the bloke has been trying - unsuccessfully, I fear - to create the recess in the wall to fit the new box.

This means that whilst I have tried desperately to work on the two websites I have to complete, I cannot. For five straight hours - minus the all but brief respites for coffee and lunch - I have been bombarded with the sound of the power tools rattling the walls, floors and windows.

I cannot escape.

Fortunately for Penny, she has had to work out near Gorron, leaving me to here - alone.

Work?? Huh! Fat chance.

You know the sound of the dentists drill? Well this is worse... much worse and much, much louder. Worse still, who knows when it will let up.

The cat's gone bonkers, while I'm just go slightly mad, chewing my fingernails back to my elbows. I'm beginning to feel like Goldie Hawn's character in 'Overboard', wondering whether I too will be going "bub-bub-bub-bub..." by the time Pen returns.

Oh wait...

It's all gone quiet.

Or after five hours and twenty minutes of ear-splitting, teeth rattling noise that could in all likelihood wake the dead, have I gone deaf?

No, it's just quiet.

Hopefully, that will be an end of it, but I'm not counting my chickens...

Yet.

Trying to stop the Windows 10 download - a fool's errand

I didn't think I'd have such an issue with this. Normally if you elect to do something on your PC, there's an, "Are you sure?" dialog with "Yes" and "No" buttons below.

Sadly, neither this nor anything close has been the case with this upgrade.

Having discovered that I would lose the software HP installed for me on my PC, as well as other applications I'm sure, I'd also lose the ability to use very important hardware without trying to find alternative software, With that in mind, I elected to forego the upgrade to Windows 10.

I don't think there's anything wrong with this edition of Microsoft's operating system. In fact, from what I've seen, it's actually better than the versions that have appeared since Windows 7, but for me, it would be too much of an upheaval. I don't feel that in this instance, an upgrade is actually an improvement over what I currently have and therefore, I have been looking for a means by which to respectfully decline Microsoft's kind offer.

According to Microsoft, I can cancel the reservation at any time, but for the life of me, I cannot find out how. Every attempt I have made to ascertain just where to find the, "Cancel reservation" button, has only led me to an FAQ page or a page where I need to sign up to the Microsoft network first.

I just want to opt out, which I can apparently do - according to the Microsoft bs - at any time.

How?

I did what the instructions on the FAQ told me to do and this is what I got.

Now, I know my eyesight is not 20-20, but I can't see any cancel reservation option on this window at all.

Perhaps I'm missing something; perhaps I'm not as bright as I'd like to think I am, but opting out at any time is not what I'm faced with here and getting in touch with the giant corporation is about as easy as flying unaided.

Now I'm really not trying to cause trouble here, but in all the blurb I've read, (including the piece shown to the right on Microsoft's How to upgrade to Windows 10 webpage) this should be a piece of cake, but it's not turning out that way at all and if I could contact Microsoft, this would be entirely unnecessary.

So, their advertising suggests that Windows 10 will be painless and is free, yet the truth is far from painless.

• All manufacturer installed OEM software will be removed from your PC upon upgrade or installation as might some other programs 
• You can't hide the windows icon from the system tray unless you do it every time you boot up 
• You can't cancel your product reservation.

I'm more than a little apprehensive that if I can't cancel my reservation, will I be able to stop the installation or upgrade? So much of what Microsoft have said has been incorrect and now I fear for my PC - something I rely on on a daily basis.

There is only so far I can go and I really need some reassurance that all will be well - something I'm really not feeling right now.

Damn you, Microsoft!

Windows 10 free upgrade? I don't think so

I have just been informed that I can have a free upgrade from Windows 7 to Windows 10, when it's ready to be rolled out.

Yippee! I thought, but then wondered what the catch was.

At first glance, Microsoft's blurb looked really enticing. I didn't know how long it would last, so I agreed to agree to the upgrade - after all, it was free.

However, you don't usually get something for nothing, so what was the cost?

Well, having just seen Kingsman, you can understand my skepticism. When some big corporation gives away their product, mass panic, violent attacks, death and heaps of messiness ensues.

Okay, so that's fiction, but what would happen if I upgraded?

According to The Verge, Windows 10 upgrade won't mess with what's already on the PC... except for Media Player and Media Centre.

One of the only reasons I bought the PC I did was because of the TV tuner card that was fitted and Windows 7 provided a good system for watching and recording TV broadcasts.

All that will go, unless I find some other software to replace Media Centre. Microsoft are removing it as people use it for DVD playback and they will provide a downloadable app for that, which would be free.

Nice of them to think of those who use it to control our TV cards, isn't it?

But that's all, right?

According to Microsoft, media player and media centre will be removed during the upgrade, as will certain games pre-installed on 7, however, a Solitare program and Microsoft Minesweeper will replace them.

And that's not all.

Here's what Microsoft actually say:

• Applications, files and settings will migrate as part of the upgrade, however some applications or settings may not migrate.
• For Anti-virus and Anti-malware applications, during upgrade Windows will check to see if your Anti-virus or Anti-malware subscription is current. Windows will uninstall your application while preserving your settings. After upgrade is complete, Windows will install the latest version available with the settings that were set prior to upgrade. If your subscription is not current, upgrade will enable Windows defender.
• Some applications that came from your OEM may be removed prior to upgrade.
• For certain third party applications, the “Get Windows 10” app will scan for application compatibility. If there is a known issue that will prevent the upgrade, you will be notified of the list of applications with known issues. You can choose to accept and the applications will be removed from the system prior to upgrade. Please be sure to copy the list before you accept the removal of the application.

Having ready this, things were beginning not to sound quite so sunny.

I decided that perhaps this upgrade wasn't for me; perhaps I'd jumped the gun and seen 'free' as 'friendly', but it turns out that I'm one of perhaps a few who don't see the upgrade as being of benefit to me personally.

I went to the FAQ page and discovered that there's no harm done, I can unreserve my download of Windows 10 upgrade on the app.

Oh wait! No I can't.

The FAQ page is wrong. There is nowhere to click, fill in or communicate otherwise if you change your mind, despite what it says in the screen shot above.

Not only that, but the annoying and useless windows logo that I inherited in this drive to upgrade as many unsuspecting people as possible, should be able to be hidden.

Well, that's true ... until you restart your computer and there it is again.

Well done Microsoft. You've screwed up again.

In my opinion, if like me, you've grown accustomed to your Windows 7 based PC or laptop and you are running older programs, such as MS Office 2003, then don't upgrade. Your office suite will not be compatible and you'll either have to install Open Office or buy a newer version of MS Office.

There may well be numerous other programs that fall into that category too and while Microsoft may want to try and get ahead of the game, there are no guarantees that you won't have to shell out a whole heap more dosh to replace those programs you bought with more up-to-date releases.

In my book, that means that this upgrade is far from free. It's certainly not free of headaches and that alone should be a warning if nothing else.

Oh and by the way, if anyone from Microsoft is reading this, please un-reserve my copy and I really don't want my PC tied up with a 3gig download for something I don't want anywhere near my computer.

Les Jardins des Renaudies

Click on any of the pictures to see them
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Les Jardins des Renaudies 

It's not often you get to wander round well-tended gardens for free and back in May, Pen and I were offered two complimentary tickets to see Les Jardins des Renaudies in Columbiers du Plessis, just south-west of Gorron.

To be perfectly honest, we weren't really all that interested, and being as it wasn't exactly brilliant sunshine, we were tempted to cry off, but since we would be getting in for free, we relented and decided to give it a go.

The day wasn't just Les Jardins des Renaudies, but there would also be many artisans there with carved wood pieces, dairy produce, baked goods and lots of other stuff - including our friend Gerard and his wines.



We arrived reasonably early and after reserving several bottles of Gerard's wine, disappeared to have a look round. We began by looking round near to the lodge, which was where most of the artisans had been placed and where we discovered that not only did Les Jardins des Renaudies have gardens, but also a fairly well-stocked museum too!

I have just added a small number of exhibits, after all, if I showed you everything, there'd be no reason for you to go see it, would there?

However, everything from apple presses, to mobile stills - for the Calvados, tractors and threshers are on show, with the complete freedom to walk around the exhibits.

After a few snaps, we returned to the lodge area, got ourselves coffees and wandered round the many artisan's stalls. These included cheeses and other dairy goods, but having been bitten by people selling goods at these kinds of places at ridiculous prices before (see: The 20€ piece of cheese), we steered clear of all of them.

Instead, we set off to have a look at the rest of the gardens

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About Les Jardins Des Renaudies

The gardens were opened in 1988 and created by Jean Renault, a nurseryman passionate about plants. They are made up of many rare species brought in from many different countries and laid out in twenty-one massive beds, forming an English garden style.

Covering four hectares, over 3.000 flowering plant varieties, trees and shrubs keep interest in the garden throughout the season as well as more formal vegetable gardens and during the season, there is a maize maze with routes of over one and a half kilometres which is a must for children and adults alike.

In addition to the plants, there are also sculptures and other pieces of art as well as functions including demonstrations of bee-keeping and Ikebana, the Japanese art of floral arrangement.

Our Visits

Our visit in May of this year, wasn't on one of the sunniest days, but it didn't detract from the spleadour of the Rhododendrons and Camilla, which provided us with a spectacular backdrop of colour, ranging from deep pinks and reds through orange and white.

Interspersed throughout the gardens were frames, giving the view a still-life quality that we hadn't seen utilised in a garden before.

In fact, there was much to keep us occupied during our visit, which turned out to give us a number of unexpected surprises and made us very pleased that we went.

One such surprise was the tree (right) that seemed to come from everywhere. The rough-hewn seat that sat beneath added to the magic, making the tree seem like something from a fantasy story rather than real life.

The water wheel also not only provided interest visually, but would turn every few moments, emptying its water noisily into the pond.

 Our visit on 24th August was no less spectacular. There sadly no Rhododendrons, but there were plenty of other flowering plants, some of which were truly breathtaking.


 We also discovered pathways between and around the beds that we had not found last time and I suspect that when we return, we will discover yet more.




We certainly tried the Maize Maze, which as described above, certainly gave us a walk as we tried once in, to find our way out.

I'm sure we could have remained inside for hours had Penny's sense of direction not been as good as it is!



These roses lose some of their appeal here on the computer monitor as it's impossible to appreciate the scent that was given off and I have to say, it was one of the strongest scented roses I have ever smelt.


All told, I feel we have found somewhere we will be visiting many more times over the years and probably will discover yet more things on each subsequent visit.

I can recommend this place to anyone and for more information, go to their website here.

A gardening job goes off with a bang

One of our customers has a fairly large garden with veg and flower beds, but the majority of it is left to grass. Our job since the beginning of the season has been to cut the grass twice a month and keep things relatively tidy.

Sadly, the rain has kept us away for the last couple of weeks and yesterday was the first time we'd been fortunate enough to get a break in the weather. After I'd tightened up the thumb nuts on the lawn mower, I got down to cutting the grass while Pen began strimming.

About fifteen minutes in, Penny noticed that something had moved in to a hole in the centre of a dead lupin plant which had stood on the corner of one of the veg beds.

The European wasp or
Yellowjacket

Wasps.

Or at least, we were pretty certain they were wasps.

Now I hate wasps with a passion, perhaps not as much as hornets, but then hornets hadn't moved into the neighbourhood, wasps had. 

They appeared to have built their nest in the centre of the now defunct plant and there were a couple of dozen of them buzzing around what we took to be the entrance. Pen warned me to give it a wide berth and I was only too happy to oblige.

A little later, we were surprised to see our client working away on one of the other veg beds and pointed out that he had an infestation of wasps.

"My wife told me they were bees," he said.

"No, they're wasps alright," we told him after some deliberation and peering at them from a safe(ish) distance.

He admitted he'd tried various things to get rid of them before, but had never managed it. He'd not tried again as his wife was sure they weren't wasps, but bees. Since by then we had convinced him that they weren't bees, he told us that he'd do something about it.

We went back to work, presuming that he'd go away, contact an expert and get someone to come round at a later date to get rid of them.

Much to our surprise, moments later, he returned with a two-gallon can and doused the hole with copious quantities of petrol. He then proceeded to light something that looked suspiciously like a lightly toasted marshmallow on the end of a four foot stick.

Pen and I backed away. We knew his interference would agitate the wasps - not a good idea at the best of times - but we continued to watch with more than a little trepidation.

"Can't you ask him to wait until we've gone?" I asked, since Pen's French was much better than mine.

Pen just laughed, but I was serious. I didn't feel comfortable and knew that in truth, neither did Pen. If he was going to do something silly, I would have felt much more comfortable somewhere else ... anywhere else and the further away, the better.

She realised and asked.

"Non," he said simply.

We moved farther back and after several failed attempts, he managed to set fire to whatever was on the end of his stick and cautiously approached the nest.

We took one more pace back. We could see the little blighters buzzing around and getting more active the closer he got, but with a final lunge, he tossed the lit 'thing' complete with stick into the hole.

Nothing happened to begin with ... well, perhaps half a second ... then:

"WHOOOOMPH!" A sound that was reminiscent of half a pound of C4 exploding shook the very ground we stood upon, followed by a small but perfectly formed fireball that leapt from the hole about fifteen feet into the air. Our client was thrown backwards about the same distance, landing on his backside, glasses askew and one slipper missing.

Please don't ask why he was gardening in his carpet slippers. I didn't see fit to ask.

For a short while, we were a little shocked and didn't move, but then he began laughing and Pen chimed in with, "Tres sportif, monsieur!" and we all laughed.

The fire in the hole (literally), burned for about the next twenty minutes or so and curiously didn't seem to adversely affect the wasps, who continued to buzz around, just from a little further back than hitherto. However as soon as the fire went out, the little buggers went back inside again, apparently unperturbed by our client's attempt to barbecue them.

So apart from almost being sent into a low orbit and making us laugh our socks off, our client achieved absolutely nothing. We hope he'll try something a little less life-threatening the next time - God forbid there is a next time - which we hope will be much more deleterious to the wasps.

Who says gardening can't be adventuresome?

Find us at www.byfordfrance.com

Spring cleaning?

What was it they say about spring time?

Oh yes, it's spring cleaning. It's that thing everyone knows about, but no-one wants to go anywhere near ... unless you're Monica Gellar.

It's that time when the cupboards all get emptied and everything gets washed, polished and put back. The fridge, washing machine and everything else on the floor gets moved so that you can clean underneath it.

All in all and on the face of it, it's very necessary, but it's a chore that  is something we'd rather not do.

Am I right?

Yesterday, we did spring cleaning.

It's something I'd rather not have happen again.

At least not the way it happened.

You see we have a cat - which I suspect, is something many of you will know already, but our cat is notorious for getting in, under, behind and on top of stuff. It doesn't matter what we say or do, he gets where no other cat has set paw and frankly, sometimes it drives us to distraction.

Ever since the kitchen was finished - well, as far as we have got it - he's been getting under and behind the cupboards. Sometimes, he even manages to wriggle in behind the washing machine, which we never thought anything of ... until yesterday.

Pen had work to do and I tried my best to a) stay out of trouble and b) get some writing done, so after lunch, she turned on the washing machine, said good-bye and went back to work, while I went back to writing.

During my spell in front of the computer, Biscuit made his presence felt and although I don't like turning him away, having him tearing around on the desk trying to catch the cursor and potentially wrecking my nice monitor, I was being very reserved in removing him and suggesting he might want to find something else to do.

In the meantime, the washing machine sat in its corner of the kitchen and chugged away, minding its own business.

By about four-thirty, I began thinking of Pen's return and whether or not to make tea and have it ready or wait a little longer - not knowing when she would actually return. To my horror, back comes Biscuit, jumps straight on my lap ... very soggy indeed.

"What the...?" I exclaimed and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.

Moments later, it occurred to me that he shouldn't be wet. He's a cat after all, and the last thing most cats like is being wet.

"Perhaps I left the toilet seat up," I mused, and began a search for what he'd managed to get into this time.

The upstairs toilet had its lid down and the bath showed no signs of dusty pud-marks, so I trundled downstairs.

"Oh shit!!!" I exclaimed.

The entire ground floor was under about half an inch of water.

I must confess, I was absolutely gobsmacked. I wanted to blame Biscuit, but in fact, it was my fault for not having made sure that the builders had the little 'U'-shaped bit of plastic to hold the waste pipe in the drain when they put the washing machine in place.

In all his scrabbling about behind the washing machine, Biscuit had dislodged the waste from the washing machine and it had quietly pumped all the water from the entire wash cycle over the floor. The kitchen and shop were both under water and as I began mopping, I realised I needed help - and not the sort Biscuit was offering.

I tried as best I could until Pen arrived, but mostly succeeded only in moving the water around; very little of it being picked up by the mop.

It took both Pen and I an hour and a half to clear it all up, but in the meantime, the fridge came out, the cooker was moved, as was the washing machine - all mopped and thoroughly cleaned before being replaced.

Once finished, our floor was spotless. I'd like to say it shone, but that's not true as the tiles on the floor are not glossy anyway and only shine under half an inch or so of water. So the fact they went back to their matt finish was actually a plus point.

Having replaced the the above piece and wedged the pipe firmly down the drain before replacing the washing machine, I have all digits crossed and fervently hope it won't happen again, but it got the job done!

Les Anciens combattants - Passais la Conception

In the centre of our village square, is a monument to all those from the village that lost their lives during the first and second World Wars. It's been beautifully maintained and means a lot to everyone.

Thanks to making the rather serendipitous decision to feed the animals at the farm early, we got to see this ceremony for ourselves and were able to take some pictures to share with you.



The day had been partly cloudy, which is why some of the photos look a little lacklustre, but it didn't detract one iota from the atmosphere and if you click on the pictures, you will be able to see them full-sized.

Les Anciens combattants

The standard bearers marched around the statue led by the musicians ...

... and then came to a halt encircling the monument.

The crowd begun to grow and when everyone was standing at attention, the speeches began.

As the villagers looked on, the dignitaries present moved around the assembled ex-servicemen and shook hands before wreaths were laid at the foot of the monument.

Once everyone had sung "La Marseillaise", the parade concluded.

There was something very real about this. Perhaps it was because it didn't appear to be one of those highly rehearsed affairs we see so often. Maybe it was because people from all ages and walks of life were involved, or maybe it was simply that it was from the heart; a single village paying tribute to those who had given their lives.

One thing is for sure: it wasn't a solemn affair, but people showing respect for their fallen comrades and confirming that their lives were not given in vain.