h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

A typical beginning to the week end. Friday night means frantic preparations, check-list of documents needed, papers to mark (last batch till September alleluia), urgent messages to be sent to colleagues for preparation of oral exams, masses of papers and magazines to find suitable material, pens, address book, e-mail of students' e-mails. In short anyone would think that the whole weekend will be spent working at my desk or at the computer. Priorities sorted.

And then when I get here, the first set of priorities immmediately disappears and another, much more demanding, descends : mowing, bindweed, roses, weeds, nettles, unsighlinesses all around. So it's good bye to the briefcase (still untouched) and into nondescript trousers old tee-shirt and cap.

The result is terrible backache. But we have to make a good impression tomorrow as a keen lady gardenrer is coming for l'apéritif. We met her by chance last Sunday, when I went with B. to drop leaflets about the forthcoming choir concert into the letter boxes of various notabilities(?). He vaguely remembered from last time stumbling on a rose garden. And we found it. She happened to be outside when we stopped (her house is in a small hamlet off the village) and she invited us in (I think she was flattered by my shrieks of delight):it was magical. A magnificent English garden with roses roses everywhere, up in the trees, down on the ground, and a pond and water lilies and a rose walk and a pergola, opening on to an orchard. Worthy of a magazine cover and she does it all herself.

I don't know her name but we have met her sister (whose name we don't know either)in the village. Anyway she is coming tomorrow and though spick and span is out of the question, I would like some sort of order...

Meanwhile, on the urban front, news from my special beat (public transport), I have to relate that Friday morning I asked someone to put out his cigarette (platform) and he complied immediately. Quite a spring in my step after that. Then I got on the train and sat down opposite one of those women who think it is quite acceptable to do their nails in the tube. So she pared and she filed and I was thinking 'Really, what next?'. Well next, I spilled the contents of my bag and she dashed down to the floor and gathered it all most kindly. So I swallowed my value judgment until next time...

Lots of houses on my daily travels taking offspring to meet various friends (half-term hols just ending) have little notices up for garden open days. Don't know whether you have a similar scheme in France: every year a thickish pamphlet known as "The Yellow Book"* appears in bookshops listing addresses and two or three visiting days under the National Gardens Scheme**. Some make a small charge for charity, or offer afternoon teas, and this year include B&Bs. If brave enough to make your entrance, you can get to see any and every type of small to enormous private garden. Most popular during the rose season.

Think I'd say "notables" or "neighbourhood/local worthies" for notabilities - even dignitaries if talking of e.g. council officials. Perhaps "the great and the good" Probably a better word will come to me as I switch off the pc.

petal jam

*nothing to do with Aubrey Beardsley.

** Worth a Google if you're not familiar - expect there is a French equivalent!

I thought "notabilities" would provide a better contrast with the down-to-earth positions of the recipients, eg president of the under-10s football club...

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Ummm notabilities - I would say is the wrong word (poss US usage?), but which of the others you employ depends on what is understood in the rest of the text.

The coach of the under-10's team would definitely be a "local worthy"; the president of the club, depending upon level of self-importance, could even be a "grandee". Sorry, this is teaching Marie's grandmother about egg consumption here. (But did supplement my non-existant income as a post-grad with translations from French for an academic periodical. None were distinguished by the use of humour or irony though.)

petal jam

I don't know whether you saw, Martine, but I'm in Mauroux chez mon père et sa femme (back to Leeds tomorrow). Having a very healthy time, exercising and eating and drinking extremely well. I have only had the chance to speak a few words of French, hélas. But enough to remember how much I love speaking it. I have passed on your FWT tips to Sarah (stepmum) who is appreciative. She speaks good French but needs your FWT input.

At the moment I'm enjoying an apéritif of pastis with some excellent olives. We're having roast duck for lunch. Dad has opened a bottle of Clos la Coutale, which is produced very locally - just down the road from here, in fact. It is 1997 vintage.

, dagesh xxx

Olives with Kir here (whisky for me).

1997 : must be something.

Dagesh, I woudl see yoru journal if I was among your friends, but I'm not. WAil, sob, choke...

Oh no, not the coach, the chairman of the association, she could be a grandmother...
I had rather taken to notabilities but will have to stick to the straight and narrow PJ! Thanks for your input as always.

What about Your Own Journal, eh? Doings at PJ mansions?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/MP1485019?show=100

Try posting this on your page - it gives you a complete list of all conversations linked to the mustard mustering station. Peet sent it to me as a live link via h2hg2, so if it doesn't work for you (probably because I copied incorrectly) then ask McKimmee, who can do everything!

petal jam

Oops just saw this as I was posting you more secondhand information.

Ah, Martine. Up at t'Hall we have dry rot (every 18 months) badgers scratching up the lawn newly laid below the terrace, ancient trees which require the expensive services of the tree surgeon, and moles on the croquet lawn.

Seriously, at the risk of sounding like one of Sharper's society novels, we currently live in a vast shared Victorian conversion with grounds surrounded on three sides by National Trust land/ farming land, and on t'other by a Motorway. Idyllic for about three days a year. Otherwise madness.

petal jam

ps years ago flat mates and I reluctantly and belatedly stopped a German fellow student from describing everything tempting (from damson jam to brilliant sunsets) as "seducing". Gave strict rules about application of "seductive", but completely spoilt the charm of her conversation.

you are parmi mes amis, ma chère Martine, and i am on your list, so I don't knows what is stopping you from reading my journal. Be satisfied, en tout cas, that you have figured largely in it during my stay in France.

Had a lovely sweet after the canard - a tarte "succès" with an 11 yr old Alsace sweet wine. Rieflé. Very good indeed. Dear old Dad gets out his best wines for his youngest son.

Champagne and foie gras tonight.

To get to anyone's journal, simply click on their name - at the top of one of their posts. That takes you to their "space" and thence to their journal.

Once you've found their space, add them to your "friends" list and their journal will appear in your conversations list.