The January Sales

Today was for shopping. The French sales are not allowed to start until well into the New Year, and this year they started on the 7th. This was to be their first weekend, and I had been advised to go early and be well clear by mid-day. Good advice as it turned out. I went to Decathlon to buy my skiing gear, and as I'm now becoming accustomed to, drove right up to the front door and climbed out of the car and into the shop. Decathlon is a very big and popular chain in France, and I'm sure I got there soon after opening, but the staff were already struggling to keep the shelves stocked. I've never skiied before, no I've never bought ski gear before. I'd asked for advice at work the day before and I made a quick call to Simon in the UK for a bit of last minute help. Jacket, trousers, thermal liners, socks, neck protector, hat, gloves and goggles. Strewth; I hadn't bought that many items of clothing in the previous year, let alone in one hit. Jacket & trousers first I thought, as everything else was 'accessory'. The proper sporty kits were eliminated simply because it would be inappropriate for someone to be wearing them while sat on their arse for hours at a time. The puff padded kits were out because I prefer the layered approach. Other stuff was eliminated because they didn't have my size, and in the end I was really left with just one decent jacket and trouser matching combo. Perfect. The accessories fell into place quite quickly once the colour scheme was established (a sort of red jacket and brown trousers), and I still had time for a bonus purchase. I bought a France footy shirt, but failed miserably to get it badged as "Cantona 7" - something to do with licensing after the player has retired. I had a great laugh with the staff about it but they remained unconvinced when I told them, "Je m'appelle Cantona" (you can have anything if it is your own name).

In the afternoon, I went for a haircut. I phoned my agent to get an idea of where to go, and headed off to the village I had first arrived at. There were two on the street he had given me, but one was unable to do it today anyway, so hobson's choice got the job. The manager spoke a little English, but the staff spoke none. I knew this wouldn't be a problem because they all have magazines, so I just flicked through one to something in the right ballbark and pointed. A few finger gestures later and she got stuck in. It's easy to forget how much easier life is with short hair, and everytime I get it cut short I feel pleased, before getting bored again and giving up on the idea. No turning back now for a month or several though...

On the way home I popped into the supermarket again. I was a bit bolder with the food selection this time, and got a bit more fresh stuff in. I also couldn't resist an Islay Malt, although at 31 euros for a 10 year variety, I'll try to manage that stock through airports in future. That's quite expensive, but what is not expensive, not surprisingly, is wine eg. Chardonnay starts well under 2 euros a bottle, perhaps half the price you'd pay for the same stuff in the UK.

I got back to find that Michel had gone away for the weekend, and I would have the house to myself. All that meant was that I could be messy and noisy in the kitchen when cooking my evening meal (agneaux=lamb).

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