Saturday, 28 July 2012
Courgette fatigue
I must say in my defence that I have no axe to grind with the humble courgette, but, let's face it, you wouldn't describe it as vegetable royalty, would you? Well, I wouldn't, anyway.
As usual, I seem to have landed in France in peak courgette season..
My neighbours, who are lovely people and who look after me and my family with the greatest kindness at all times, are currently providing me with a seemingly unending supply of the French national seasonal vegetable. The main trouble is that I am now alone. Alone, that is, except for the company of about five kilos of courgettes. In fact, this morning when I surfaced after an evening of patriotic fervour, having bravely stayed awake until 2a.m. To watch the entire Olympic opening ceremony, it was to discover that another three giant specimens had been left on the table outside, along with about half my body weight of green beans. I like green beans, but I rarely consume them in quite such substantial quantities, especially when all alone.
To add insult to injury, I was just wondering how to transform this surfeit of vegetables into something interesting for dinner when the phone rang, and my friend Karine asked if I would like to pop round for dinner with her. She had cooked a chicken, and her neighbours were bringing some vegetables to have with it (so no opening there for me to volunteer to provide a courgette-and-bean based offering). I dismissed any thoughts of knocking up a courgette mise en bouche and offered to bring the wine, heaving a quiet sigh as I realised that I'd have to leave the courgette dilemma pending until tomorrow...
I arrived at Karine's house a little later, just as her neighbour was putting the finishing touches to the vegetables on the hob. Courgettes. It was courgettes.
I may have to grate a few into my breakfast muesli if I want to make any impression on my stockpile. I just hope I can find a solution before the next lot arrive....
Friday, 20 July 2012
Getting connected.....
So here we are in the land the Internet forgot.
Week 1, and the attempt to get online begins....
Before leaving Nowhere-on-Thames, I had been pleased to see that Bouygues Telecom had launched a new 3G Internet offer for a very reasonable 9.90 Euros a month. On a contract with no tie-in period, this seemed like the perfect solution to my needs whilst in Nowhere-in-France.
As is oft the case, the road to connection was to prove long and rocky...
Before we set off, I had tried very hard to sign up online. I would probably have derived more satisfaction from trying to extract one of my own teeth with a cocktail stick. Firstly, the dongle I was offered to accompany the deal was priced at a sum similar to the current Greek national debt. Some judicious button pressing revealed that there were other choices, but Bouygyes - without knowing my "needs" had chosen for me a dongle which best met them. Or, in other words, they'd offered me the most expensive one in their range. I felt quite smug that I had managed to circumvent their dastardly plan. Until I tried to proceed with my order and found that the one I actually wanted, together with most of the others, was out of stock.
I tried many ways to contact Bouygues with a few other questions, but, to be frank, I would have had more luck with a Ouija board than any conventional method... Undaunted, I decided that the personal approach might be more effective, and so decided to leave things until we arrived, and then to visit a shop and do the deal in person.
Monday morning dawned. Now, I know that Monday morning is not the best time to get things done in France, but we had other business in the local metropolis, so I decided that I would try a visit to Bouygues. And it was then that I found that whilst Orange and SFR were open on Monday morning, Bouygues had stuck a notice in their window to the effect that from July 11 to August 20, they would NOT be opening on Monday mornings...
Thursday. I thought that by now I had given them ample time to ease into their working week, and that it would be a good day to try again. They were, at least open, which was an encouraging start. I joined the queue in the shop. It goes without saying that the queuing part took some time. However, eventually my turn came. I explained to the assistant that I wanted to subscribe to their 9.90 Internet deal, and that I required a particular dongle, which I believed might be out of stock.
"That one isn't available on this particular offer"said the assistant. "we only have this one at 69.99". I managed not to swallow my teeth.
"But on your website I am sure it is available on this tariff" I replied "although I think it might be out of stock"
"Are you sure it was this one?" she asked, having gone into the back of the shop and returned, carrying exactly the one I wanted.
"Yes" I said "That's the very one!"
"Well, I can't sell you this one, because it's the only one we have and it isn't available on this offer" She said, waving the object of my desire tantalisingly under my nose. "You can only have this other one and it's 69.99"
"But" (I tried not to sound too pleading) "But....it IS available on this offer according to your website!"
And so, in an attempt to prove to me once and for all that I was a pathological liar, she logged onto the website, found the page, and triumphantly announced "See? It's not there!"
"No" I agreed, "But if you scroll down to....there...and press....that....." and the dongle I wanted was shining back at me from their web page. It might as well have had "England 1 France 0" inscribed on the side. I tried not to sound smug.
"Yes, but look" she said "here is a list of the shops that have that one in stock, and our shop isn't on it" I felt that she might be trying a bit too hard to regain the upper hand, or else she had forgotten that she had just shown me one that they clearly DID have in stock. "And anyway, it's also 69.99"
"I think you might find it is cheaper than that" I said .
She clearly felt by now that reinforcements were needed, so she called upon her colleague. Unfortunately, the colleague quickly confirmed that yes, she could indeed sell me the dongle I wanted under the terms of the offer, even though it was the last one they had in stock, and that no, it wasn't 69.99, but that the price was (smugness was now starting to ooze from my pores despite strenuous efforts to disguise it) 39.99.
England 2, France 0....
Cutting a long story short, I lost round 3 on a technicality, as they refused to complete the sale without a RIB and I had forgotten to take the cheque book. Or, to be strictly accurate, I wanted to complete the transaction using my credit card...still a surprisingly alien concept in France, along with the idea that a non-resident might want Internet access without necessarily going to the lengths of opening a French bank account. Not to worry, though..I made sure that I had agreement to put the thing aside for me until I could pop back with the cheque book, a notarised certificate confirming my shoe size, a copy of the family tree going back to the 17th century and my last 85 utility bills.
Tomorrow, limited Internet access will be mine, and I shall publish this small insight into the joys of life in a strange land. At least, that is the plan.....
And here I am...but I have to go back tomorrow with proof of my shoe size...
Week 1, and the attempt to get online begins....
Before leaving Nowhere-on-Thames, I had been pleased to see that Bouygues Telecom had launched a new 3G Internet offer for a very reasonable 9.90 Euros a month. On a contract with no tie-in period, this seemed like the perfect solution to my needs whilst in Nowhere-in-France.
As is oft the case, the road to connection was to prove long and rocky...
Before we set off, I had tried very hard to sign up online. I would probably have derived more satisfaction from trying to extract one of my own teeth with a cocktail stick. Firstly, the dongle I was offered to accompany the deal was priced at a sum similar to the current Greek national debt. Some judicious button pressing revealed that there were other choices, but Bouygyes - without knowing my "needs" had chosen for me a dongle which best met them. Or, in other words, they'd offered me the most expensive one in their range. I felt quite smug that I had managed to circumvent their dastardly plan. Until I tried to proceed with my order and found that the one I actually wanted, together with most of the others, was out of stock.
I tried many ways to contact Bouygues with a few other questions, but, to be frank, I would have had more luck with a Ouija board than any conventional method... Undaunted, I decided that the personal approach might be more effective, and so decided to leave things until we arrived, and then to visit a shop and do the deal in person.
Monday morning dawned. Now, I know that Monday morning is not the best time to get things done in France, but we had other business in the local metropolis, so I decided that I would try a visit to Bouygues. And it was then that I found that whilst Orange and SFR were open on Monday morning, Bouygues had stuck a notice in their window to the effect that from July 11 to August 20, they would NOT be opening on Monday mornings...
Thursday. I thought that by now I had given them ample time to ease into their working week, and that it would be a good day to try again. They were, at least open, which was an encouraging start. I joined the queue in the shop. It goes without saying that the queuing part took some time. However, eventually my turn came. I explained to the assistant that I wanted to subscribe to their 9.90 Internet deal, and that I required a particular dongle, which I believed might be out of stock.
"That one isn't available on this particular offer"said the assistant. "we only have this one at 69.99". I managed not to swallow my teeth.
"But on your website I am sure it is available on this tariff" I replied "although I think it might be out of stock"
"Are you sure it was this one?" she asked, having gone into the back of the shop and returned, carrying exactly the one I wanted.
"Yes" I said "That's the very one!"
"Well, I can't sell you this one, because it's the only one we have and it isn't available on this offer" She said, waving the object of my desire tantalisingly under my nose. "You can only have this other one and it's 69.99"
"But" (I tried not to sound too pleading) "But....it IS available on this offer according to your website!"
And so, in an attempt to prove to me once and for all that I was a pathological liar, she logged onto the website, found the page, and triumphantly announced "See? It's not there!"
"No" I agreed, "But if you scroll down to....there...and press....that....." and the dongle I wanted was shining back at me from their web page. It might as well have had "England 1 France 0" inscribed on the side. I tried not to sound smug.
"Yes, but look" she said "here is a list of the shops that have that one in stock, and our shop isn't on it" I felt that she might be trying a bit too hard to regain the upper hand, or else she had forgotten that she had just shown me one that they clearly DID have in stock. "And anyway, it's also 69.99"
"I think you might find it is cheaper than that" I said .
She clearly felt by now that reinforcements were needed, so she called upon her colleague. Unfortunately, the colleague quickly confirmed that yes, she could indeed sell me the dongle I wanted under the terms of the offer, even though it was the last one they had in stock, and that no, it wasn't 69.99, but that the price was (smugness was now starting to ooze from my pores despite strenuous efforts to disguise it) 39.99.
England 2, France 0....
Cutting a long story short, I lost round 3 on a technicality, as they refused to complete the sale without a RIB and I had forgotten to take the cheque book. Or, to be strictly accurate, I wanted to complete the transaction using my credit card...still a surprisingly alien concept in France, along with the idea that a non-resident might want Internet access without necessarily going to the lengths of opening a French bank account. Not to worry, though..I made sure that I had agreement to put the thing aside for me until I could pop back with the cheque book, a notarised certificate confirming my shoe size, a copy of the family tree going back to the 17th century and my last 85 utility bills.
Tomorrow, limited Internet access will be mine, and I shall publish this small insight into the joys of life in a strange land. At least, that is the plan.....
And here I am...but I have to go back tomorrow with proof of my shoe size...
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
If the future IS orange....then we're doomed!
Some months ago, France Telecom became Orange. Now, for various reasons I've just concluded my divorce from Orange in the UK, so this news did not fill me with confidence. However, over in France, my dealings with our telecoms provider consist of activating and deactivating our telephone landline during the periods I'm in residence over the summer, so there's not too much to worry about. Or so I believed!
As we're about to sally forth to la terre promesse, I needed to ensure that we have contact with the outside world via a landline, and so I set about going through the process to get ours reconnected.
Now I've got another of my heads.
I started last night, thinking it would be a 5-minute job. Which was my first mistake.
Step 1: Créer votre Espace Client
What could possibly go wrong?
Enter name and address: OK
Enter e-mail address: Your e-mail address is not valid. YES IT IS!
Your e-mail address is not valid...GRRRR!
Your e-mail address is not valid.....OK, try this: it's the one I never use for anything.
(It works fine)
Step 2: Ajouter un compte fixe
Now this is where it really started to go wrong.
Enter your phone number: OK
Enter your account number, which you will find on top of your bill.
Slight problem there. You see, we opted for online billing. Which, of course, means that I can only view my bill ONLINE. And I can't see my bill online until I've added my landline account to my Espace Client. Which I can't do without my account number. Which is on top........
But, hold on a minute! Surely the "Ref. Client" which appears on the top of each letter I get from FT confirming they've activated my phone MUST be my account number? Of course it must!
It isn't.
And the "No. de contrat" isn't it, either. Nor is the reference number which appears next to any of the direct debit payments on our bank account.
By now, I've been locked out of the Orange website 3 times for 30 minutes each time because I've exceeded my number of attempts. I have a feeling it's a sort of blessing, designed to prevent angry punters from throwing laptops from upper-storey windows.
AHA! but not to worry, I can do this by phone.
Not exactly......
Plan A: Phone the automated helpline, pronounce the words "Activer ligne résidence secondaire" and Robert est ton Oncle.
Unfortunately, since the advent of Orange, you need a four digit PIN code to do this. Which I haven't got. Apparently, however, this is not a problem, as I can simply phone the number and, provided I have the total of my last bill, I can set one up. Only my bill, as I may have mentioned, is only available online.....
Plan B: Phone the English-speaking Helpline.
Cue a recorded message, lots of Muzak and an interminable queue. When I got through (bang on opening-time, so I would not have imagined there'd be a queue) there was a queue. "Your waiting time is estimated at less than 2 minutes" they said, encouragingly.
NINE minutes later, I was greeted by the lovely Sarah, who was going to help me. In English. Although a close look at Orange's website reveals that, if you phone Orange France from overseas, this is the only number you can call, irrespective of whether you speak English or not.
Anyway, Sarah was more than happy to organise activation of my phone line for me. But I wanted more. I wanted my account number, so that I could set up my Espace Client, and do all those other things all by myself like a big girl.
"Can I speak to you in French?" I asked. I just prefer it...I sort of feel more in control of both sides of the conversation then.
"Well, we're not supposed to, because this is the English Speaking helpline..."
"Look", I said, " I just need to get some information". And I explained. In French, because I'm paying for the call and, like Frank Sinatra and Sid Vicious, I'll do it my way.
"No problem" said Sarah, after slightly misunderstanding my question and trying to explain to me how to get an internet account with Orange (or was it a cunning marketing ploy?).
"Here's your account number" she said "Have you got a pen?" I assured her that my writing implement was poised and at the ready.
At which point, she began reading the account number that had already got me locked out of the Orange website 3 times. I completed the last few figures for her.
"But that one doesn't work!" I wailed "I've been trying it for ages!"
"Well, normally, you just need to put a zero in front" she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world and I was clearly stupid not to have though of it.
Marvellous.
I wonder if I can get a carrier-pigeon on ebay?
Meanwhile, in a mere 4 hours from now, the Olympic Torch Relay will be jogging around the local castle. If only I had a copy of my Orange bill, I would jog along and try to set it alight on the flame.
As we're about to sally forth to la terre promesse, I needed to ensure that we have contact with the outside world via a landline, and so I set about going through the process to get ours reconnected.
Now I've got another of my heads.
I started last night, thinking it would be a 5-minute job. Which was my first mistake.
Step 1: Créer votre Espace Client
What could possibly go wrong?
Enter name and address: OK
Enter e-mail address: Your e-mail address is not valid. YES IT IS!
Your e-mail address is not valid...GRRRR!
Your e-mail address is not valid.....OK, try this: it's the one I never use for anything.
(It works fine)
Step 2: Ajouter un compte fixe
Now this is where it really started to go wrong.
Enter your phone number: OK
Enter your account number, which you will find on top of your bill.
Slight problem there. You see, we opted for online billing. Which, of course, means that I can only view my bill ONLINE. And I can't see my bill online until I've added my landline account to my Espace Client. Which I can't do without my account number. Which is on top........
But, hold on a minute! Surely the "Ref. Client" which appears on the top of each letter I get from FT confirming they've activated my phone MUST be my account number? Of course it must!
It isn't.
And the "No. de contrat" isn't it, either. Nor is the reference number which appears next to any of the direct debit payments on our bank account.
By now, I've been locked out of the Orange website 3 times for 30 minutes each time because I've exceeded my number of attempts. I have a feeling it's a sort of blessing, designed to prevent angry punters from throwing laptops from upper-storey windows.
AHA! but not to worry, I can do this by phone.
Not exactly......
Plan A: Phone the automated helpline, pronounce the words "Activer ligne résidence secondaire" and Robert est ton Oncle.
Unfortunately, since the advent of Orange, you need a four digit PIN code to do this. Which I haven't got. Apparently, however, this is not a problem, as I can simply phone the number and, provided I have the total of my last bill, I can set one up. Only my bill, as I may have mentioned, is only available online.....
Plan B: Phone the English-speaking Helpline.
Cue a recorded message, lots of Muzak and an interminable queue. When I got through (bang on opening-time, so I would not have imagined there'd be a queue) there was a queue. "Your waiting time is estimated at less than 2 minutes" they said, encouragingly.
NINE minutes later, I was greeted by the lovely Sarah, who was going to help me. In English. Although a close look at Orange's website reveals that, if you phone Orange France from overseas, this is the only number you can call, irrespective of whether you speak English or not.
Anyway, Sarah was more than happy to organise activation of my phone line for me. But I wanted more. I wanted my account number, so that I could set up my Espace Client, and do all those other things all by myself like a big girl.
"Can I speak to you in French?" I asked. I just prefer it...I sort of feel more in control of both sides of the conversation then.
"Well, we're not supposed to, because this is the English Speaking helpline..."
"Look", I said, " I just need to get some information". And I explained. In French, because I'm paying for the call and, like Frank Sinatra and Sid Vicious, I'll do it my way.
"No problem" said Sarah, after slightly misunderstanding my question and trying to explain to me how to get an internet account with Orange (or was it a cunning marketing ploy?).
"Here's your account number" she said "Have you got a pen?" I assured her that my writing implement was poised and at the ready.
At which point, she began reading the account number that had already got me locked out of the Orange website 3 times. I completed the last few figures for her.
"But that one doesn't work!" I wailed "I've been trying it for ages!"
"Well, normally, you just need to put a zero in front" she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world and I was clearly stupid not to have though of it.
Marvellous.
I wonder if I can get a carrier-pigeon on ebay?
Meanwhile, in a mere 4 hours from now, the Olympic Torch Relay will be jogging around the local castle. If only I had a copy of my Orange bill, I would jog along and try to set it alight on the flame.
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