une courgette – un broccoli

veg

When I lived in UK I was often shocked by the lack of consumption of vegetables amongst children. I remember once having Bein Ouai ‘s friend coming over for tea: he cried at the sight of a pea on his plate – I felt mean….

I watched Jamie Oliver series “school dinners” in total disbelief. I tried to talk the headmaster of our local school into considering switching to local fresh produce suppliers for the school dinners. Of course it never happened school budget had ruled that out. Instead we had to settle for the fact that our children would not be able to describe what meat they had for lunch (of course they did not mind the shape of the Dinosaur was what mattered to them).

Moving to France eradicated that problem. Lunches are slightly more expensive but school meals are free for families on low incomes. Meat is organic and fish straight from La Criée of La Rochelle.

I shop as much as I can at my local market for fresh produce, literally walking to it (I could not do that before and had to travel miles for a farmer’s market)

I get my groceries and the odd veg at the nearest supermarket. However the last two times I went there I was asked by two different cashier assistants trying to work out what the heck they were about to weigh : a) a broccoli and b) a courgette

Both in their 20’s they truly did not know. I don’t think it was a coincidence either…France is going that way too it would appear, it is way more rural than UK still but things are changing fast. And now I officially sound like a middle aged woman…tant pis…

It’s hard to be a woman!

My body is aching…all in the name of maintenance.

My muscles, they hurt. I have been running for miles in my life. Not for fun, no, just to make sure I keep this affliction called cellulite well away from my thighs. Trust me, if it was not for those runs, swims, yoga sessions…my thighs would be swallowed by the big C monster!

To top it up my armpits feel like a cheese grater. Reason? a daily use of an evil instrument of torture invented by a man …yes a man called Philips. It had to be a man!

Bathing is no joy either…I frantically scrub those ingrown hairs …another side effect of Mr Philips….Sometime it is hard to be a woman…n’est-ce pas Mr Philips?

Men and shopping

What is it about men and shopping?

I went out today (yeah left the house) I am working next week on the Sunny side Of The Doc in La Rochelle, which is quite exciting as I should mingle with very important people from all over the world buying documentaries for their respective tv channels…Sylvied is in there! Anyway, that was the perfect excuse to get a couple of new outfits…the girl needs to look the part!

It was just how I like it. All by myself!

I was reminded very early on into my outing how lucky I was. Looking through the rails my heart went for this poor woman who happened to be fully equiped with husband and pushchair…the poor girl.

Everything she pointed out was “ah non pas ca!” but I will wear it like this..”nope…not a chance…every single item she pointed out was just a “no”…and when it was not the “man” the child made sure he had his say… at that very moment when she was falling in love with the perfect skirt!

I felt for her, I have had many trips highly frustrating in the past where I had visions of poking Mr K in the eyes with disposable hangers …yes really!!!

I have mastered the act of spotting..All I do now in company, is spot the targeted item of joy and come back for the real thing…on my own!

Just how I like it…