I went back to Le Mourtis for another skiing session. I am actually starting to get some confidence now. That's partly because I have got better, but also because falling over isn't the end of the world. I still worry that I'll wreck my knee ligaments, but I'm not doing anything stupid, and I've got the hang of falling flat. Sort of.
On the way I waved two fingers at the big speed camera gantry about half way as I flew past at 100 mph again (both directions). I've been past this 7 times now, and if there is anyone paying attention, then maybe they will try to predict my movements and have a patrol car waiting one day. This is the only way they'll catch me as I've now come to an agreement with my UK insurance company, whereby they will insure me for an exhorbitant fee (£100 per 90 days on top of my normal rate) and I will be able to keep my car registered in the UK - hence there is no way for the French police to track me. I haven't asked them about whether this means I should be paying UK car tax, as I declared my car SORN last time I was home. That was £170 well saved as far as I'm concerned. The French don't seem to have any equivalent.
Anyway, as for the skiing, I only fell over twice today. Both times near the end when I was knackered, which is perhaps a good sign. One of these was coming off the button lifts too, which is embarrassing, but it is actually the first time it has happened. I'm not saying I'm a picture of elegance letting go of the darned things, but I had managed ok. This also puts you in a precarious position, as the things keep spewing out more skiers at a steady rate and if they were all as crap as me, there would be quite a tidy pile of bodies in no time.
I now have a handy cornering tip for myself, which is a joining together of two tips my instructor told me in the one hour primer I had: (1) lean forward (2) put your weight on your lower, outside, ski. My version is 'try and get your head over your outside ski tip'. Works a treat for me anyhow. I came quite close on a few occasions to performing parallel turns, which will be quite a coup when I manage it, as I'm basically winging it without lessons. The next step will be those big swoosh parallel stops, and then the red runs and then.... oh hang on a minute. Much better today though than on the previous two occasions.
I've worked out why Doctor Who keeps beating the Cybermen. If they ever got him on their natural habitat ie ski slopes, things would be different. This dawned on me when I noticed how clumsily people walk in ski boots. The mechanical thwak, thwack, thwack as they march is a dead ringer for them. Wait 'til they get a chance to put their skis on, Doctor, then you'll get your arse kicked :-)
RHD=0
Saturday, 28 February 2009
Friday, 27 February 2009
Leaving Party
The week began with a cock up. Last Friday I had ordered 30 croissants from a baker near where I live, for "mardi matin". This as everyone knows means Tuesday morning, not Monday morning, so I was a bit embarrased to have this explained to me by the shop assistant on the Monday. I tried to collect more successfully on the Tuesday. Why 30 croissants? Well Gregory, our architect, has spent the last 2 months spinning me a tale that it is a French custom for a newcomer to buy croissants. A likely tale, but he had garned quite a lot of support, and the team was threatening to withdraw its foreign language skills. In other words, I was being blackmailed! It was worth it though; it seems odd that a big bag of croissants can bring so much joy, but they practically worship them over here. I must say I am growing quite attached to them myself. Apparently they are a symbol of a successful repulsion of another Turkish invasion during the expansion of the Ottoman empire. Some baker baked bread in the shape of the Turkish crescent, and voila, an institution was born.
It's been much warmer and sunnier this week too. In fact it really does feel like
summer is here already, albeit the French don't think that. They haven't spent most of their life in Northern England though, and it feels like May to me at the moment. These funny little beetles only come out in warm weather too, so the evidence is mounting :-) They're called gendarme beetles, and they're very common down here. I've also been told that there will be some quite spectacularly large insect specimens appearing as things warm up; praying Matii for instance. I've only ever seen these in pet shops or elsewhere in captivity.
The week ended with my mentor's leaving party (Friday). I'm feeling a bit less guilty
about having his job now (by breaking the last in/first out rule) as he quickly found another, and in fact he is leaving one week earlier than he has to. We went for an Audio Team meal followed by a boozy session in some English pub called The George (I think). It seems that there are some members of the team who have decided to try and fix me up with a French girl. Any French girl will do it seems, and my input doesn't seem to be required, so we'll just have to wait and see how that works out, but they could at least have waited until we'd left the restaurant before starting tonight!
It's been much warmer and sunnier this week too. In fact it really does feel like
summer is here already, albeit the French don't think that. They haven't spent most of their life in Northern England though, and it feels like May to me at the moment. These funny little beetles only come out in warm weather too, so the evidence is mounting :-) They're called gendarme beetles, and they're very common down here. I've also been told that there will be some quite spectacularly large insect specimens appearing as things warm up; praying Matii for instance. I've only ever seen these in pet shops or elsewhere in captivity.The week ended with my mentor's leaving party (Friday). I'm feeling a bit less guilty
about having his job now (by breaking the last in/first out rule) as he quickly found another, and in fact he is leaving one week earlier than he has to. We went for an Audio Team meal followed by a boozy session in some English pub called The George (I think). It seems that there are some members of the team who have decided to try and fix me up with a French girl. Any French girl will do it seems, and my input doesn't seem to be required, so we'll just have to wait and see how that works out, but they could at least have waited until we'd left the restaurant before starting tonight!
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Chez Peter
Yesterday was a gorgeous sunny day, and quite warm too in the sun. I had arranged to meet Peter at his new apartment, prior to a quick cafe/bar tour of the town centre. His new apartment is very close to the Capitol Square and is pretty cool. It's on two levels with two double bedrooms, and there's a little mezzanine floor between the two proper levels. It's on the third floor of a side street, so will propably be far enough removed from the main square to be quiet in the evenings. He also has a great view onto the street below where there are numerous cafes and handy shops. He is now bound by a 3 month notice period though, so he'll be hoping our jobs are more secure than we think they are, and at 800 euros a month, the 2 months of rent he will forfeit otherwise is a tidy sum. He'd had time to do some shopping anyway, so the afternoon started with some wine.
Next was a cafe bar in another little square just off from the Capitol Square, where we sat outside in the sun. We both ordered what I would describe as duck pie, but which in French sounded much more appealing, and proportionately more expensive. I've now given up expecting the food and drink to be at the bargain end of the price range. The blonde beer we had to accompany it (blonde means lager over here) was typically expensive, even though it was just Heineken. This is a pain, as it's no better than you'd get anywhere else in Europe, but at least when buying the food I can console myself that it is very good. We stayed here until the sun ducked behind the buildings, when it became too cold to sit outside, and then tramped off to the nearest Irish Bar, of about 5 in Toulouse. Unlike the English bar we had previously visited, but which had no detectable English people in it, this Irish bar was definitely full of Irish. There were also plenty of locals, but it was quite incredible to see what could have been my local in Manchester at one point. I'm sure it even had the same two Irish girls in the corner commisserating each other on being football widows.
We finished the evening by wandering into a French bar where there was just one bloke stood at the end. He was very friendly and between his broken English and our crap French, we had a bloody good time. He introduced us to a French drink which is very popular in the South and which I'd heard about at work - pastis. It's basically oozo, and is drunk the same way as the Greeks drink that, ie mixed with water if you're not daft. We had a lot of these over the course of the next hour or so, which probably explains a lot about how I felt when I woke up this morning.
Getting a taxi home at the end of the night seemed harder than it should have been. The first 3 drove off as soon as they realised there might be a lanuguage problem. Whether this was entirely language based at this point, I'm not sure, but it took about 20 minutes or so before I was on my way home...
Next was a cafe bar in another little square just off from the Capitol Square, where we sat outside in the sun. We both ordered what I would describe as duck pie, but which in French sounded much more appealing, and proportionately more expensive. I've now given up expecting the food and drink to be at the bargain end of the price range. The blonde beer we had to accompany it (blonde means lager over here) was typically expensive, even though it was just Heineken. This is a pain, as it's no better than you'd get anywhere else in Europe, but at least when buying the food I can console myself that it is very good. We stayed here until the sun ducked behind the buildings, when it became too cold to sit outside, and then tramped off to the nearest Irish Bar, of about 5 in Toulouse. Unlike the English bar we had previously visited, but which had no detectable English people in it, this Irish bar was definitely full of Irish. There were also plenty of locals, but it was quite incredible to see what could have been my local in Manchester at one point. I'm sure it even had the same two Irish girls in the corner commisserating each other on being football widows.
We finished the evening by wandering into a French bar where there was just one bloke stood at the end. He was very friendly and between his broken English and our crap French, we had a bloody good time. He introduced us to a French drink which is very popular in the South and which I'd heard about at work - pastis. It's basically oozo, and is drunk the same way as the Greeks drink that, ie mixed with water if you're not daft. We had a lot of these over the course of the next hour or so, which probably explains a lot about how I felt when I woke up this morning.
Getting a taxi home at the end of the night seemed harder than it should have been. The first 3 drove off as soon as they realised there might be a lanuguage problem. Whether this was entirely language based at this point, I'm not sure, but it took about 20 minutes or so before I was on my way home...
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Guilt Trip and Meal Ticket
Well Monday was the first morning back after finding out about the first cull just before the one week shutdown. More details have emerged, and it seems my team didn't escape at all. There are 3 teams in the S60 departement (I am in Audio) and their managers were each told to loose two people. Each used the tried and tested last in/first out method to determine the casualties, and I was second last in. Oh dear... but, it turns out that the manager in overall charge of the three, overruled my manger due to my application development experience. He thought this would be a useful skill to have on the team, even though they deal in middleware and drivers. So the next one down the chain was - my mentor. This was broken to me and my mentor at the same time in a short meeting to discuss defects. My mentor had only been there one month more than me and wasn't really a mentor at all in the usual sense, as he knew pretty little too, but it came as a bit of a shock both in terms of the delivery and the reason. I am now effectively mentorless as I cannot bring myself to keep bothering him with questions when he and I now know that I have got his job. He was off this afternoon for an interview, so I do hope he's successful. It also means that I am very definitely staring at the guillotine myself, as everyone else left now has significantly more experience than me, and I doubt I'll get the same rub twice.
I found out why the original plan for the shutdown was brought forward by one week, which undermined my flight ticket purchase. It was just for the cellular products group's benefit, and the rest of the site is off this week as originally planned, and that unfortunately includes the canteen. What do French engineers do when the canteen is closed? Do they bring in sandwiches? Do they bring in tupperware boxes full of last night's chilli? Do they fuck - they go out every lunch for a three course meal with wine, and take two and half hours over it! I'm not sure my wallet can stand a whole week of this, but what the hell, it's fun, and it reminds me of Minder on the Orient Express, where an English detective makes a sarcastic comment to his French counterpart about another investigation only being started after a three course meal. It's another classic and true stereotype :-) Today was the third day of this extravagence, and the organisers of the events have now sussed that they can negotiate discounts for taking 30 people en masse to a restaurant for lunch. I did notice the beaming smiles on the restaurant owners' faces myself on the previous two occasions.....
I found out why the original plan for the shutdown was brought forward by one week, which undermined my flight ticket purchase. It was just for the cellular products group's benefit, and the rest of the site is off this week as originally planned, and that unfortunately includes the canteen. What do French engineers do when the canteen is closed? Do they bring in sandwiches? Do they bring in tupperware boxes full of last night's chilli? Do they fuck - they go out every lunch for a three course meal with wine, and take two and half hours over it! I'm not sure my wallet can stand a whole week of this, but what the hell, it's fun, and it reminds me of Minder on the Orient Express, where an English detective makes a sarcastic comment to his French counterpart about another investigation only being started after a three course meal. It's another classic and true stereotype :-) Today was the third day of this extravagence, and the organisers of the events have now sussed that they can negotiate discounts for taking 30 people en masse to a restaurant for lunch. I did notice the beaming smiles on the restaurant owners' faces myself on the previous two occasions.....
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Home Sweet Home (And Back)
This last week has been spent back in sunny Manchester, which ended up very much busier than I'd have liked, and in the end I was glad I had a full week. I'd wondered if this might be too much at one point!
As I only have a motorcycle now in Manchester I was hoping that the recent talk of snow was exaggerated somewhat. The photo taken from my flight from Gatwick on
Saturday 7th shows otherwise. It was like this from takeoff until a few minutes before landing - a complete whiteout from the South of England to the edge of Manchester. Luckily for me Manchester appears to be mostly immune to severe weather due to its physical location, but it was still bloody cold all week, and ice patches remained a threat. I did cope with the switch back to clockwise roundabouts ok though.
On first arrival home, I got to inspect my path which the gasboard had dug up to fix a leak accoss the road, and was pleased to see they'd done a good job. Lucky I think, because they'd screwed my neighbour's up. My second check showed that my fish were all ok. I guess six weeks at this time of year isn't enough to test their resolve without regular dinners anyway (they don't eat when cold), but it was nice to see nevertheless.
I also had a stack of mail the size of my arm, not including the free crap like charity bags, flyers and newspapers that I can't disuade some dizzy bastards from delivering. I mention this because much of this correspondence could have been dealt with over the phone or via the internet. Cue BT's surprise gift - they'd knackered both, and then couldn't get them working again until 5PM Tuesday. Cretins.
My final welcome surprise, also on Tuesday, was a fixed penalty notice of £30 for riding on the pavement (for 6 feet max) to get around some muppet who had lodged himself diagonally across two stationary lanes of traffic at the Dane Rd lights. The jobsworth copper had been going the other way and couldn't have even seen my wheels through two stationary lanes, but he still felt obliged to fulfill his oath and so he turned round, parted the blocked traffic with his siren and followed me through to Glebelands where he collared me at the off-licence. A narky little twat he was too: "What seems to be the problem?" followed by "You what?!". I went first in that exchange BTW. He was already thumbing through his bumber book of tickets by the time I'd sat in the car. Purely out of spite for this idiot I've written to the Chief Constable explaining that I can't possibly plead as the idiot failed to record the time and date on the ticket. Oh, and I've asked that he contact me at my current address in France if he wishes to take this further too.
In between all this fun I managed to visit a few friends and see my mum (who always feeds me when I visit :-) I also got to see some of my old chums from SEMC for Friday lunch and they seem to be counting down their days with some fine black humour. It makes me wish I'd stayed, more-so given that they might yet outlast me in the works stakes. I'll be doing my best to get back for whatever end of term party they end up throwing.
Not much else to report about the week really. I was pretty glum leaving my house behind again as I set off to the airport on Sunday, and there seems to be a lot of organising/checking involved with this. I'll have to streamline it a bit or it'll start to overshadow the last 24 hours of each home visit too much. Part of the glumness was definitely due to the 5 hour connection time at Gatwick on the way back (which serves me right really - see previous entry). This turned out better than anticipated though, as The Red Lion showed both the rugby and the football on Sunday afternoon, which soaked up most of the time, and a meal plugged the remainder nicely.
BTW Toulouse airport only charged me 23 euros for 9 days of on site parking. Puts into context what Judge Dread wanted to charge me for 6 feet of whatever he couldn't see ...
As I only have a motorcycle now in Manchester I was hoping that the recent talk of snow was exaggerated somewhat. The photo taken from my flight from Gatwick on
Saturday 7th shows otherwise. It was like this from takeoff until a few minutes before landing - a complete whiteout from the South of England to the edge of Manchester. Luckily for me Manchester appears to be mostly immune to severe weather due to its physical location, but it was still bloody cold all week, and ice patches remained a threat. I did cope with the switch back to clockwise roundabouts ok though.On first arrival home, I got to inspect my path which the gasboard had dug up to fix a leak accoss the road, and was pleased to see they'd done a good job. Lucky I think, because they'd screwed my neighbour's up. My second check showed that my fish were all ok. I guess six weeks at this time of year isn't enough to test their resolve without regular dinners anyway (they don't eat when cold), but it was nice to see nevertheless.
I also had a stack of mail the size of my arm, not including the free crap like charity bags, flyers and newspapers that I can't disuade some dizzy bastards from delivering. I mention this because much of this correspondence could have been dealt with over the phone or via the internet. Cue BT's surprise gift - they'd knackered both, and then couldn't get them working again until 5PM Tuesday. Cretins.
My final welcome surprise, also on Tuesday, was a fixed penalty notice of £30 for riding on the pavement (for 6 feet max) to get around some muppet who had lodged himself diagonally across two stationary lanes of traffic at the Dane Rd lights. The jobsworth copper had been going the other way and couldn't have even seen my wheels through two stationary lanes, but he still felt obliged to fulfill his oath and so he turned round, parted the blocked traffic with his siren and followed me through to Glebelands where he collared me at the off-licence. A narky little twat he was too: "What seems to be the problem?" followed by "You what?!". I went first in that exchange BTW. He was already thumbing through his bumber book of tickets by the time I'd sat in the car. Purely out of spite for this idiot I've written to the Chief Constable explaining that I can't possibly plead as the idiot failed to record the time and date on the ticket. Oh, and I've asked that he contact me at my current address in France if he wishes to take this further too.
In between all this fun I managed to visit a few friends and see my mum (who always feeds me when I visit :-) I also got to see some of my old chums from SEMC for Friday lunch and they seem to be counting down their days with some fine black humour. It makes me wish I'd stayed, more-so given that they might yet outlast me in the works stakes. I'll be doing my best to get back for whatever end of term party they end up throwing.
Not much else to report about the week really. I was pretty glum leaving my house behind again as I set off to the airport on Sunday, and there seems to be a lot of organising/checking involved with this. I'll have to streamline it a bit or it'll start to overshadow the last 24 hours of each home visit too much. Part of the glumness was definitely due to the 5 hour connection time at Gatwick on the way back (which serves me right really - see previous entry). This turned out better than anticipated though, as The Red Lion showed both the rugby and the football on Sunday afternoon, which soaked up most of the time, and a meal plugged the remainder nicely.
BTW Toulouse airport only charged me 23 euros for 9 days of on site parking. Puts into context what Judge Dread wanted to charge me for 6 feet of whatever he couldn't see ...
Saturday, 7 February 2009
Frying Pan & Fire
Well this week ended a whole lot better than it could have done. There had been some uncertainty about the long term security of Freescale since they couldn't find a buyer for the cellular products division. This meant it was taken back off the market and subject to the same cost cutting drives that were being implemented throught the rest of Freescale. One of these is factory closures planned for every quarter this year and the other is the dreaded contractor cull. Contractors don't get paid during the closures either.
The first week long closure was to be the second week of Feb which I intended to spend in the UK. This was orignally supposed to be the third week though, and I must have had that in mind when I booked the flights, because when I tried to online checkin 4 hours before the flight was due to leave on Friday, I discovered I'd booked the wrong effing week. Not funny. It cost me £85 to correct it and I got crap connection times too. I also had to wait until Sat morning for the first available flight, but in the end I was just glad to be able to get home, and it serves me right for being a numpty.
So Friday afternoon at work I was a bit pissed off, as I wasn't about to go to the airport as I'd originally planned, but just before I left for home, I got some much better news. I, or more correctly, my project had escaped the first contractor cull. At this moment I don't know how far reaching this has been in Toulouse, but the first wave will be kicked out on March 6th. Maybe this will be the end of it, but unless people start buying mobile phones again soon things aren't looking too good.
I calculate that I will have to still be here at the end of May in order to benefit from my decision to quit SEMC early, so fingers crossed. I'm safe for now though, and there are some here that can't say that, but I guess I'd better accelerate my attempts to learn to ski and speak French just in case.
The first week long closure was to be the second week of Feb which I intended to spend in the UK. This was orignally supposed to be the third week though, and I must have had that in mind when I booked the flights, because when I tried to online checkin 4 hours before the flight was due to leave on Friday, I discovered I'd booked the wrong effing week. Not funny. It cost me £85 to correct it and I got crap connection times too. I also had to wait until Sat morning for the first available flight, but in the end I was just glad to be able to get home, and it serves me right for being a numpty.
So Friday afternoon at work I was a bit pissed off, as I wasn't about to go to the airport as I'd originally planned, but just before I left for home, I got some much better news. I, or more correctly, my project had escaped the first contractor cull. At this moment I don't know how far reaching this has been in Toulouse, but the first wave will be kicked out on March 6th. Maybe this will be the end of it, but unless people start buying mobile phones again soon things aren't looking too good.
I calculate that I will have to still be here at the end of May in order to benefit from my decision to quit SEMC early, so fingers crossed. I'm safe for now though, and there are some here that can't say that, but I guess I'd better accelerate my attempts to learn to ski and speak French just in case.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Lesson Two
Yesterday I bit the bullet and bought some teach yourself French books. I got an Assimil course, which everyone at work says are amongst the best, and a little noddy 
book to fill gaps at airports etc. One of the things I like about the Assimil course is that you get a book, with the French on one page, and the English on the facing page, which accompany the audio CDs. This seems like a sensible approach, so we'll see. I will be enrolling on a course at the University at the end of March, but I missed the boat for the current 3 month course which started as I arrived in France. Trying to organise a course has been much harder than expected, because when I phoned a few up, I was greeted in French. I know enough to ask if they speak English or even if there's someone else there who does. Invariably there was no one. Not much bloody use for lanuguage schools methinks, and the guys at work were in hysterics as they took the phone receiver off me to bale me out. Anyhow, these DIY courses are really just to use the 2 months before the course starts to try and get my standard up a bit from the O-Level French I recall from years ago (which is more than I ever dreamed I would remember and is certainly more than most other O-levels I did).
Today I went skiing again, for my second time ever, this time at Le Mourtis. I tried to ignore any obvious Latin derivation as it was supposed to be a family resort and I doubt
they would be getting away with killing infants on black runs. I thought I'd have started a bit better than I did too and was soon quite glad I'd opted for the insurance option for 2.50 euros. On my first run down, on a proper slope today and not the practice area, I think I invented a new stopping technique. It is loosely modelled on a fairly common one used when hurtling into the run off area with no chance of coming to a gracefull halt; after falling over as in the standard method, procede to rotate 180 degrees before sliding into the netting in a starfish pose head first. No damage done other than to the ego, but there were lots of beginners here and I wasn't the only one falling over, although I did seem to be the only one all over the place. The next few runs were much better, and in fact there was no more falling over after the first 20 minutes. I did about 8 0r 9 runs altogether, and although I 
wouldn't say they got progressivley better (the last was another shocker which I'll put down to tiredness) there has definitely been a big improvement. I reckon if I did a week solid I'd be flying, but I suspect it will be two steps forward and one back as a weekend skier. If only the job didn't get in the way of the real reason for being here! I'm even more convinced now that skiing was the right first choice over snowboarding. I've now got the hang of button lifts, which basically drag you up the slope by your arse, and this is actually not so difficult with one ski either side of the pole as you balance. The snowboarders seem to find this more awkard because they don't get to face forward up the slope and it's easier for them to get dragged over. It really does look much harder than skiing, although it definitely looks cooler too.
book to fill gaps at airports etc. One of the things I like about the Assimil course is that you get a book, with the French on one page, and the English on the facing page, which accompany the audio CDs. This seems like a sensible approach, so we'll see. I will be enrolling on a course at the University at the end of March, but I missed the boat for the current 3 month course which started as I arrived in France. Trying to organise a course has been much harder than expected, because when I phoned a few up, I was greeted in French. I know enough to ask if they speak English or even if there's someone else there who does. Invariably there was no one. Not much bloody use for lanuguage schools methinks, and the guys at work were in hysterics as they took the phone receiver off me to bale me out. Anyhow, these DIY courses are really just to use the 2 months before the course starts to try and get my standard up a bit from the O-Level French I recall from years ago (which is more than I ever dreamed I would remember and is certainly more than most other O-levels I did).Today I went skiing again, for my second time ever, this time at Le Mourtis. I tried to ignore any obvious Latin derivation as it was supposed to be a family resort and I doubt
they would be getting away with killing infants on black runs. I thought I'd have started a bit better than I did too and was soon quite glad I'd opted for the insurance option for 2.50 euros. On my first run down, on a proper slope today and not the practice area, I think I invented a new stopping technique. It is loosely modelled on a fairly common one used when hurtling into the run off area with no chance of coming to a gracefull halt; after falling over as in the standard method, procede to rotate 180 degrees before sliding into the netting in a starfish pose head first. No damage done other than to the ego, but there were lots of beginners here and I wasn't the only one falling over, although I did seem to be the only one all over the place. The next few runs were much better, and in fact there was no more falling over after the first 20 minutes. I did about 8 0r 9 runs altogether, and although I 
wouldn't say they got progressivley better (the last was another shocker which I'll put down to tiredness) there has definitely been a big improvement. I reckon if I did a week solid I'd be flying, but I suspect it will be two steps forward and one back as a weekend skier. If only the job didn't get in the way of the real reason for being here! I'm even more convinced now that skiing was the right first choice over snowboarding. I've now got the hang of button lifts, which basically drag you up the slope by your arse, and this is actually not so difficult with one ski either side of the pole as you balance. The snowboarders seem to find this more awkard because they don't get to face forward up the slope and it's easier for them to get dragged over. It really does look much harder than skiing, although it definitely looks cooler too.
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