il faut apprendre le leçon...

Still stressed at work, still struggling to do too much, not helped by having two members of the team taken for other duties leaving me short-staffed

On the plus side, this week I have, finally, learned to delegate some of the duties

Remember, at The Beast, I only had a trainee who hadn't a clue and The Hostile One who couldn't be bothered, so delegation was a tad difficult and I did it all myself, with rather disastrous results for my health.

Now, finally, I am learning the lesson and delegating.

It's not easy, some of the 'chosen ones' make a fuss and object loudly, I care not

Some of them say 'yes, sure' and then continue to do other things, not my fault

Some of them are willing and helpful

However they react I make sure to thank them all publicly at the end of the day

The next lesson to learn must be to let it go

I am not paid to manage, I am not paid to worry, I am not paid to take responsibility

The fact that those who are do not seem to be doing so is, again, not my problem

Today's challenge is to glide serenely through the day and emerge at the end of it feeling calm and relaxed. and not to go into 'headless chicken mode' as is my habit

challenging indeed...

on verra!

making marmalade...

Marmalade fruit preserve made from the juice and peel of citrus fruits and water. The benchmark citrus fruit for marmalade production in Britain is the Seville orange thus called because it was originally only grown in Spain; it is higher in pectin than most oranges and therefore gives a good set. The peel has a distinctive bitter taste which it imparts to the marmalade. Marmalade can be made from lemons, limes, grapefruits, mandarins and sweet oranges or any combination thereof.

Wikipedia

During my working week, and often at the weekends, I spend a great deal of time engaged in mental activity of the most intense complexity. I kid you not, much of the time even I do not understand what I am thinking and I often sit back and wonder what kind of weird and wonderful world this is in which I now find myself.

So much mental activity is not good for a person. Indeed I firmly believe that we homo sapiens are insufficiently evolved to cope with the technology that we have developed and are frantically running to catch up with ourselves.

Certainly the internet is changing us physiologically, recent studies suggest that our brains are changing, our 'soft-wiring' is altering as we spend more and more time in the 'wired-world.' Purely personally I find my attention span shrinking as my desire for instant-information gratification is expanding.

So it was time to spend some time in physical, real-world activities that do not require much brain power and yesterday I came across a post devoted to marmalade over at the blog 'my french country home' which I read daily (despite the ads) and decided that marmalade would be just the thing for a Saturday away from the office...

Marmalade is ridiculously easy to make. Actually much of that which we are offered on the shelves of the supermarkets ready-made, is easy to make, tastes much, much better and is free of nasty chemicals and I, for one, am slowly becoming a devotee of home-made.

For marmalade organic fruit is not just a luxury but a necessity. I will refrain from writing about the pesticides and waxes to which citrus fruit are 'treated' as they grow from flower to fruit but since marmalade is made from the peel and pith and pips as well as the fruit itself, all that you want in your pan is pure fruit and sunshine.

I like my marmalade with thin slivers of peel, they give it a pleasantly crunchy texture that goes perfectly with well-toasted, lavishly-buttered, brown bread, so I sliced but you could chop or dice if that is your choice.

However you prepare the fruit, the scents of citrus that are released as your knife slices through the peel are wonderful, especially on an early-spring morning when summer seems elusive and far away and the risk of rain is ever present.

Once sliced the fruit is popped into a pan, covered with water and left to soak. Overnight is best but mine only had a few hours because I wanted to make the marmalade in time for Sunday breakfast.

Time for a walk with the dog...

The only disadvantage to living in The Doll's House is the lack of a decent garden. The plot at the back of the house is too small and mean to be called a garden and I tend to ignore it, save for hanging my washing there. Well, few things in life are perfect, I make up for this by enjoying other people's gardens, albeit by way of secret glimpses through fences and hedges and the odd surreptitious and rather guilty photograph taken when no-one is looking.

Happily, the green is right on my doorstep and is a perfectly lovely garden for the dog and me. And it has the added bonus of a regular supply of nice people and their dogs so we pause, and exchange greetings and sometimes I walk alongside them while my dog plays with their dogs. I am quite fond of my 'other dogs' some of whom kiss my nose if I bend down low enough, it reminds me that if I were in France it is the men who would be kissing me and not the dogs but I don't mind, a kiss is a kiss...

Back to the kitchen...

The pips from the fruit must be tied in little muslin bags and added to the pan because the pectin in them helps the marmalade to set. I have no muslin, I am not so organised, a strip from an old, clean net curtain suffices. And then the fruit and water is boiled for a couple of hours and the citrus scents now seep into all of the rooms of the small house and are as lovely as an expensive pot-pourri but better somehow. And while that is all going on in the kitchen time can be spent on other things, in my case, my French studies and an intense session with past tenses that lasted for four hours and left me reeling.

After the initial boiling sugar is added. The same weight of sugar as fruit which realisation made me pause and wonder how I would know because the fruit was now in the water and had been boiled, until common sense returned to nudge me and politely suggest that I weigh another orange, lemon and grapefruit from the bowl on the cupboard. D'oh...

And then another hour of bubbling in the pan and frequent admiring glances as the whole lot becomes soft and syrupy and much dipping in of the tip of a wooden spoon because the taste is absolutely divine.

And then the bottling...

Did I say that marmalade is easy to make?

Alas, something fundamental went wrong with my marmalade. I suspect insufficient pips. I had thought as I sliced the fruit that it was distinctly lacking in the pip-department, and was a little worried but hoped that using sugar with added pectin would be enough.

It wasn't. My marmalade is runny.

I am not despondent. I shall pour some onto my Sunday-morning toast regardless because the taste is so very lovely and the rest, the other two jars, I will use to add to sponge-puddings and tarts and cakes, a kind of sharp syrupy kiss.

And one day in the week, when my head is too stuffed-full of complex computer code and the latest bank Trojan trickery, I shall return home to spend a sane and peaceful evening making Marmalade Mark II because I have a trip to Brittany booked for six weeks time and I want to take some jars for my friends in France.

A little gift of sunshine and citrus from this Oxfordshire village to my French village home...

sunflowers and surgery...

I wish that I had taken a camera when I arrived for my appointment at the Nuffield Orthopaedic Centre, Oxford yesterday because as I pulled into the car park I was greeted by these wonderful sunflowers.


Apprentices from the Camelia Botnar Foundation in Sussex have made a display of 15ft tall steel sunflowers for the Nuffield Orthopaedic Centre NHS Trust.There are seven sunflowers with the tallest standing at 15ft high. The sunflowers have been hand sculptured from mild steel. The sunflowers will be positioned for everyone to enjoy on the hospital site.

(Nuffield)

Sadly, the picture does not do them justice, they are almost three times my height and they made me pause, reflect and smile which is, I believe, one of the reasons why we homo sapiens love art and why it is so very important that we support and encourage the artists amongst us.

There is also a lot of art inside the hospital. Paintings and photographs line many of the corridor walls and waiting areas. Once again I wish I had had my camera but there will be further opportunities in the future...

So, the reason for my visit was a referral from a doctor, not the doctor I was allocated when I registered at the new surgery when I moved house, but a second one with whom I had requested an appointment, to the obvious displeasure of the receptionist because that smacks of 'seeking a second opinion' and is viewed as a little rude in this country. Not so in France where it is common practice and so I excuse myself because I have lived in France and it has given me frankly revolutionary notions!

Anyway, the second doctor did not agree with the first doctor's diagnosis of 'arthritis' in my wonky right knee and 'nothing wrong' in my painful left one, and referred me for an assessment at the Nuffield.

I love the woman who carried out said-assessment mainly because she promised me that I will be able to ski again one day, albeit in a more sedate and slower manner than has been my usual way until now. That was heartening for one who had consigned herself to increasing decrepitude and immobility and a slow descent into old age.

The diagnosis?

Do you recall that day when I fell off the toilet in France? (Yes, sounds funny but I was actually standing on it to open a window). Well, it seems that I tore one of the menisci in my right knee, hence the wonkiness, the knee-locking and the occasional falling over sideways like a felled fir tree.

And the painful left knee? She suspects that I have torn both menisci in my left knee. BOTH! Probably on that day when I tore my hamstring while out walking the dog and had to hobble up, hill and down dale, back to the car.

No wonder I have been in pain and incapable of walking properly.

I will need MRI scans and an appointment with an orthopaedic surgeon will be arranged without delay so that surgery can be planned. All being well the surgeon will agree to do both knees at once and since it's keyhole surgery I will be out on the same day and, most interestingly for me, be able to watch the proceedings. Fascinating!

You know, I have to say this again even though it may make my American friends groan, The NHS really is a wonderful institution and a blessing to we Brits. We DO pay for it if we are employed, at the moment 12% of my earnings are taken in NI but then whenever we need treatment the NHS provides it totally free of charge.

This is how a civilised society should treat its citizens, in my opinion, sunflowers and surgery, parfait!

curious and curioser...

An odd event occurred this week, one that has left me puzzled and slightly ill at ease.

I shall refrain from going into too much detail in order to preserve the identity of the party involved because I continue to believe that people are decent, honest and kind but...

I happened upon a sorry tale in a blog a while back and the misfortunes of the writer tugged my heart strings quite considerably. After a great deal of thought and being a soft-hearted soul, I left a comment on said-blog offering my (empty) house in France to the writer and her family, a kind of 'family needs home and home needs family' suggestion. The offer was for six months with the possibility, if I remain in the UK, of extending that to a year. The response was rapid and the blog-writer seemed keen and very nice.

I discussed it with The Ragazza who was cautious. She suggested that I request that we sign an agreement, the blog-writer would get the house rent-free and be responsible for the utility bills, I would get the electricity reconnected, the boiler serviced and the wiring checked and pay for all of that myself.

I was, in effect, giving the blog-writer a large, comfortable, partly-furnished home for free.

No strings, no conditions, out of sympathy for their plight and because I believe in doing nice things for people, even total strangers.

I e-mailed with that suggestion

and waited

and waited

No reply. Today, feeling sad and rather stupid, I e-mailed and said that I assume that my offer did not match their needs, wished them all good fortune in the future and a swift resolution of their problems, and walked away...

But I can't help wondering now what that was all about

And whether all was not as it seemed

Am I stupidly naive?

Working in the field of internet security I should be more aware than most people of the dangers that lurk in cyberspace. And that people may not be all that they seem. And how we really should not trust someone if we haven't met them in person and become reasonably acquainted with them.

Anyone can acquire a blog and write pretty much what they please. There are no controls, no checks, no protection from those who may be less-than honest. I'm not saying that the person to whom I offered my home is not perfectly nice and honest but...

Beware Geeks bearing gifts

and strangers in cyberspace

on surviving

I managed to get through yesterday without shedding any tears, either for my father on his should-have-been birthday or for my marriage on its should-have-been anniversary.

Of course, I had some help where my marriage is concerned.

Th Ex acted in a manner that reminded me of the many reasons why I heaved a sigh of relief on that Boxing Say night in 1998 when he declared he'd had enough of our marriage. Privacy prevails, suffice to say he behaved badly yesterday towards out first-born.

And now, finally, I have stopped feeling guilty about the whole mess of a marriage

And I have stopped thinking about my father in that gut-wrenching, tear-welling way

Am I becoming cold and cynical?

Or just accepting....

Netiquette and Nethics

Tomorrow should have been my father's birthday.

My father died twenty-four years ago. I still miss him, I still can't quite accept that I will never see him again, still feel the pain of loss. But twenty-four years is a long time and I can't help thinking how the world has altered since he was a part of it and of how amazed he would be by all of the changes that those years have brought.

Not least the internet....

My father would have loved the internet. He would have been a Silver Surfer, happily spending his spare time paddling through pools of information, diving into archives, swimming through cyberspace. He would have e-mailed me chatty missives, albeit in the italic script that matches his old-fashioned handwriting, probably become a moderator for several forums, I suspect that he may even have written a blog although Facebook would have been one step too far for him. Yes, he would have enjoyed the internet albeit in a reserved, polite way.

My mother, on the other hand, would have been a cyber-pest.

When she was drinking, and often when she was not, my mother was a very angry and vindictive person. It was not unusual for me to receive abusive phone calls from her while I was at work and if I chose to end the call before she had had the opportunity to vent her spleen, she would simply call my home and leave long, nasty messages for me instead.

Sometimes she penned inflammatory letters to people in public offices to complain about some perceived injustice, usually on behalf of a third party who was later shocked and mortified to find that their minor complaint had been taken up by my mother and blown out of all proportion.

She would even accost total strangers in the street if they transgressed her 'rules of behaviour' and often came close to initiating incidents of road-rage. She was one Angry Woman.

Thank goodness my mother never discovered the internet, I shudder to think of the damage she would have caused had she had access to a keyboard.

That's the trouble with the internet.

It is open to all, without limits and it is difficult to block the bad behaviour of others, whether criminal or just impolite and rude. So people can write blog posts about others in which they describe the most private aspects of their lives, sometimes thinly disguised but often blatantly obvious to those who know them. They can air the dirty laundry of others freely and without a care, the cyber equivalent of spiteful gossip. They can use social media sites to launch cyber-bullying attacks against innocent victims, often leaving truly dreadful messages that are as harmful as actual physical violence. They can taunt and torment in the comments section of a personal blog. They can, in short, become bullies.

So, it is worth bearing in mind a few internet facts...

1. Nothing that you do in cyberspace is private

2. Nothing that you write in cyberspace, whether it is an e-mail, a Facebook update or a blog post is ever removed, even when you chose to delete it it can still be accessed

3. There is no such thing as anonymity in cyberspace. We are all readily identifiable.

4. The laws of the country that hosts your ISP cover your internet activities and that country may have very strict laws regarding libel.

Is it time to consider a little 'netiquette'?

1. Consider carefully the comments you leave on another's blog. If you would not say it in person it is probably best not written in cyberspace

2. E-mails should be treated as private correspondence. It is rather unfair to use their contents out of context and without informing the other party

3. Don't gossip in cyberspace, unless you are happy for other people to gossip about the details of your own private life.

4. If you can't play nicely in social networking sites do not play at all

What do you think?

Is that a reasonable request?

And then, since I am asking anyway...

It would be really nice if the folk who wish to earn an income online would do so from somewhere other than a blog so that we could visit just to read and look at pretty pictures and think and be inspired. The number of blogs that are, in reality, businesses seems to be proliferating and call me naive but a blog is a personal online journal place, is it not? If folk wish to enter into e-commerce shouldn't they get a proper business website?

If it were down to me I would ban ads on blogs completely, many of the ads that I have seen recently have been very similar to the dodgy spam-stuff that I spend a lot of my working time blocking and I can't help wondering who regulates and polices them. If one of them is fraudulent is the blog owner liable?

on being smart and focused

I worked yesterday.

Not only did I work but I also worked an hour longer than my colleague, having offered to arrive at 8am and electing to stay until 5pm in order to help with a sudden rush of tasks. And yes, when I arrived home I was tired and grumpy and feeling unhappy.

I realised, years ago, that sheer hard work and dedication are not sufficient if one wishes to advance in a career or even to receive adequate recognition and reward for one's labour.

While I was at The Beast, I think I'd been there for a couple of years and was the team leader for post-sales tech support, a new woman joined the pre-sales team. She was much younger than me, not exactly attractive but single, smart and focused. Very focused. Within a couple of years she had carved out a nice little niche for herself and had assembled a team of techies working for her. And everything she asked for, she got.

At the time we all muttered about unfairness because she was in a live-in relationship with the manager and I suppose that didn't do her any harm in a company where nepotism was rife and, at times, the only way to gain advancement. But I think that even without his backing she would have succeeded in her aims and after he was made redundant she continued to climb the career ladder and has now attained director-level.

While I was working with her we spent some time together in Boston, on product training and I got to know her. I liked and admired her. She really was very good and very smart and focused. We could, in retrospect, have been a great team because it was The Product that we both supported, me as a true techie and her in a sales support role. And it is The Product that she continues to work with now. Remember, I always said that The Product was the best mainframe software that I had ever known, I suspect that The Beast has made a great deal of money from it. (Yes, ok, I admit, I still miss it)

If I had been as smart as her....

Well, lessons learned. It is not those who work themselves to death who succeed in this world. It is those who are smart, focused and, above all, confident of their abilities and worth. It is those who seek out opportunities and who carve out their own little niches.

Yesterday I worked. Today and for the next two days I am taking time away from the office.

I am working on my studies, I am writing The Book and, most importantly, I am composing a formal, written request to work remotely from my home in France.

And if my courage begins to fail me and despair threatens to overwhelm me, I will remember my ex-colleague and all that she has achieved.

screaming...

Last week at work...

No of arguments with manager : 2

No of tearful episodes : 1

No of panic attacks : 0

No of arguments won : 2

It is so difficult, as a survivor of workplace bullying, not to over-react when one finds oneself disagreeing with a manager. At the risk of sounding pathetic, a whole tsunami of bad memories came rushing back and there I was, locked in a cubicle in the ladies in floods of tears once again.

But, you know, I won both arguments and, whilst my manager did not exactly apologise, he did concede and that was reassuring and a timely reminder that those bad days at The Beast are behind me.

All in all I think that I came out on top.

Today I feel like a ship-wreck survivor.

Slightly disorientated, a little nauseous, headachey and exhausted.

Totally exhausted.

But, in a way, kind of stronger and more determined....

fingers crossed

So, do you guys remember the Christmas before last? The one when I had the oven all hot and ready, the turkey all basted and prepared, the potatoes all peeled and soaking, the trimmings all sorted and waiting. When I bend down to put said-turkey in said-oven, opened the door and the electricity all went off. When we were told by our rental agents (Finders Keepers) to 'borrow a neighbour's microwave' because their office was closed until January 4th and no, they would not pay for the emergency electrician that I summoned to check the wiring leaving me with a bill for £180 that meant I couldn't afford to buy petrol at the end of the following January and had to take time off work. When a kind neighbour allowed me to use her kitchen to cook our Christmas meal. When I was then left without a cooker (wasn't the wiring, the new cooker had failed after three months) for four whole weeks despite frequent complaints and calls to Finders Keepers. That one...

(pauses to breath)

Well, last night I arrived home from work, turned on the hot water tap in the kitchen, ran some water, turned it off again, listened with alarm as the pump from the water cylinder started screaming and then, the electricity all went off

I called Finders Keepers emergency number and spoke to a nice lady (much nicer than the manager last Christmas who told me, effectively, tough s**t, when I asked how I would feed my guests all over Christmas and past the New Year) who said a plumber would be called and would I be here today to let him in?

So I am here today waiting for a plumber

We have no hot water so I am about to take a cold strip-wash, walk the dog and then, fingers crossed and prayers prayed, attempt to remote-access my office computers for the first time ever so that I can perform my work duties while I wait

Wish me luck!

learning the lesson

Today was another busy day and I was 'asked to step in' for a sick colleague.

I did so happily but at 12:30 I informed everyone that I was taking a lunch break, walked out of the office, got into my car and drove home to walk the dog on the green, eat a bowl of soup and sit quietly and almost meditatively for 10 minutes.

It was lovely and a much-needed pause in the middle of the day

I am done with working myself to exhaustion

Really, I am

Ask my co-worker/commenter

totally, utterly, completely, drained...

Yesterday I worked and it was busy, busy, busy.

Being Little Miss Helpful, I had offered to arrive at 8am to take the baton from those in the previous time-zone and start jogging with it for the hour until my co-worker arrived at 9am. I had also planned to pause for lunch and to sit with Lily The Laptop on the comfy sofas and do some writing. And to leave at 4:30pm on the dot.

The best laid plans of Mouse and...

Suffice to say, the Bad Guys were busy yesterday and the several plates that I was obliged to spin threatened, at times, to crash to the floor. I did not pause for lunch, I did not leave on time and I finished the day a shaking, exhausted, wreck.

Of course I came home and thought about this.

Why DO I work so hard?

At the Beast I did so because, put simply, my team had gone from three experienced, skilled and committed professionals to being Me, The Hostile One (who constantly dug in her heels, refused requests for her to take on some of the work load and spent a lot of time playing games, both on her computer and in the manager's office) and The Trainee (friend of the previous manager, straight off answering the phones, incapable of learning the job, nepotism if ever I saw it).

Effectively it was a one-woman team.

And if those customers were to be supported and those sales people were to sell that software, it was down to me to do it.

With hindsight, that so-wonderful gift, I should have gone to the previous manager and said "You messed up, fix it please" but she had moved on to bigger and better things in the company

I should have gone to the new manager and said "This penny-pinching, headcount-reducing, nonsense is hurting the customers and, therefore, hurting the company" but he was on his mission to make his own mark and his management style was 'unconventional', to put it mildly.

I did neither, instead I worked, and I worked, and I worked until I burnt-out.

Not any more though.

Tomorrow I intend to tell my current manager that Saturday was a busy day, to remind him that the Bad Guys do not take weekends off, and to suggest that we increase the number of workers to three/four. I may do it in writing and cc his manager, a tactic that I should have employed during my days at The Beast, it

never hurts to have a third party in the loop.

So, today I have relaxed and recovered by spending most of the day sitting in bed, laptop on a pillow, a dog curled up beside me, studying the events leading up to the French revolution. In French. I will write a post about this soon, or at least about my thoughts on how that period contributed to why the French are as they are today. Of course that is a flagrant generalisation but if there is one thing that I learned while living in France it is that there is a distinctive 'Frenchness', a collective mindset and way of thinking/acting/being that we English lack. I admire them for it even though it is, at times, protectionist to the extent of being unethical and very difficult for we melting-pot Brits' to comprehend with our polite acceptance of everything and everyone.

The older I become, the more wise and experienced, the more confident I am about my rights, especially my rights as an employee, but also my rights as a citizen of this country.

And the more I believe that every country should have a declaration of the rights of its citizens, agreed, written and displayed in public offices throughout the land.

Every citizen of the world should demand this of its government.

The world would be a much better place if it came to pass .

And if I had the choice I know which nationality I would chose to be...

Vive la France!

DÉCLARATION DES DROITS DE L’HOMME ET DU CITOYEN DE 1789

Les Représentants du Peuple Français, constitués en Assemblée nationale, considérant que l’ignorance, l’oubli ou le mépris des droits de l’homme sont les seules causes des malheurs publics et de la corruption des Gouvernements, ont résolu d’exposer, dans une Déclaration solennelle, les droits naturels, inaliénables et sacrés de l’homme, afin que cette Déclaration, constamment présente à tous les membres du corps social, leur rappelle sans cesse leurs droits et leurs devoirs ; afin que les actes du pouvoir législatif, et ceux du pouvoir exécutif pouvant être à chaque instant comparés avec le but de toute institution politique, en soient plus respectés ; afin que les réclamations des citoyens, fondées désormais sur des principes simples et incontestables, tournent toujours au maintien de la Constitution, et au bonheur de tous. En conséquence, l’Assemblée nationale reconnaît et déclare, en présence et sous les auspices de l’Être Suprême, les droits suivants de l’homme et du citoyen.

Article premier

Les hommes naissent et demeurent libres et égaux en droits. Les distinctions sociales ne peuvent être fondées que sur l’utilité commune.

Article II

Le but de toute association politique est la conservation des droits naturels et imprescriptibles de l’homme. Ces droits sont la liberté, la propriété, la sûreté et la résistance à l’oppression.

Article III

Le principe de toute Souveraineté réside essentiellement dans la Nation. Nul corps, nul individu ne peut exercer d’autorité qui n’en émane expressément.

Article IV

La liberté consiste à pouvoir faire tout ce qui ne nuit pas à autrui : ainsi l’exercice des droits naturels de chaque homme n’a de bornes que celles qui assurent aux autres Membres de la Société, la jouissance de ces mêmes droits. Ces bornes ne peuvent être déterminées que par la Loi.

Article V

La Loi n’a le droit de défendre que les actions nuisibles à la Société. Tout ce qui n’est pas défendu par la Loi ne peut être empêché, et nul ne peut être contraint à faire ce qu’elle n’ordonne pas.

Article VI

La Loi est l’expression de la volonté générale. Tous les Citoyens ont droit de concourir personnellement, ou par leurs Représentants, à sa formation. Elle doit être la même pour tous, soit qu’elle protège, soit qu’elle punisse. Tous les Citoyens étant égaux à ses yeux, sont également admissibles à toutes dignités, places et emplois publics, selon leur capacité, et sans autre distinction que celle de leurs vertus et de leurs talents.

Article VII

Nul homme ne peut être accusé, arrêté, ni détenu que dans les cas déterminés par la Loi, et selon les formes qu’elle a prescrites. Ceux qui sollicitent, expédient, exécutent ou font exécuter des ordres arbitraires, doivent être punis ; mais tout Citoyen appelé ou saisi en vertu de la Loi doit obéir à l’instant : il se rend coupable par la résistance.

Article VIII

La Loi ne doit établir que des peines strictement et évidemment nécessaires, et nul ne peut être puni qu’en vertu d’une Loi établie et promulguée antérieurement au délit, et légalement appliquée.

Article IX

Tout homme étant présumé innocent jusqu’à ce qu’il ait été déclaré coupable, s’il est jugé indispensable de l’arrêter, toute rigueur qui ne serait pas nécessaire pour s’assurer de sa personne, doit être sévèrement réprimée par la Loi.

Article X

Nul ne doit être inquiété pour ses opinions, même religieuses, pourvu que leur manifestation ne trouble pas l’ordre public établi par la Loi.

Article XI

La libre communication des pensées et des opinions est un des droits les plus précieux de l’Homme : tout Citoyen peut donc parler, écrire, imprimer librement, sauf à répondre de l’abus de cette liberté, dans les cas déterminés par la Loi.

Article XII

La garantie des droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen nécessite une force publique : cette force est donc instituée pour l’avantage de tous, et non pour l’utilité particulière de ceux auxquels elle est confiée.

Article XIII

Pour l’entretien de la force publique, et pour les dépenses d’administration, une contribution commune est indispensable. Elle doit être également répartie entre tous les Citoyens, en raison de leurs facultés.

Article XIV

Tous les Citoyens ont le droit de constater, par eux-mêmes ou par leurs Représentants, la nécessité de la contribution publique, de la consentir librement, d’en suivre l’emploi et d’en déterminer la quotité, l’assiette, le recouvrement et la durée.

Article XV

La Société a le droit de demander compte à tout Agent public de son administration.

Article XVI

Toute Société dans laquelle la garantie des Droits n’est pas assurée, ni la séparation des Pouvoirs déterminée, n’a point de Constitution.

Article XVII­­­­­

La propriété étant un droit inviolable et sacré, nul ne peut en être privé, si ce n’est lorsque la nécessité publique, légalement constatée, l’exige évidemment, et sous la condition d’une juste et préalable indemnité.­­­­

a pause in a hectic whirl...

We had more snow at the end of last week. Was it Thursday or Friday? I can't remember. The days had passed in a blur of work and studies, periods of intense concentration at the office and late nights poring over my, well, not books because the course is all online so I suppose I was poring over my keyboard. It doesn't have quite the same ring about it, does it?

So, I was delighted to wake to snow.

I knew that it had snowed, I sensed it even before I climbed cautiously (on arthritic knees) from bed and padded over to the window. Have you noticed how the snow brings silence? A muffling of sounds. And a soft blanketing of all the sharp corners and angles? Snow softens the world and perhaps that is why I love it so much. I see snow as a beautiful white comforter.

I walked the dog for an hour. Hobbling along on stiff knees with bones that frequently 'catch' and make me stumble, after a while my joints relaxed and softened, or perhaps I was too entranced to notice the pain? I often think that the pain is an indicator of my levels of stress and that if I could just relax it would simply melt away.

I took lots of pictures.

And then the sun appeared and turned the sky a lovely crimson, like a smear of lipstick after a wanton kiss on the cheek and it was so beautiful. Pure white snow, the glinting of a thousand diamonds under my feet and the sky treating me to a beautiful light show with a palette of reds and purples.

And then it was back to the grindstone with no time for anything other than work and my studies and watching from the window for the next snow to fall....

empty nest, full nest

The Ragazza has returned to the nest.

It is not my place to discuss her private business, suffice to say the BF was weak and unfaithful.

When one has been living alone for four years it is not always easy to accommodate another, especially in such a tiny house, changes must be made, in attitudes and habits especially in habits, occasional frictions will cause sparks that smoulder in dusty corners and threaten to break into flames unless instantly stamped upon.

I am, however, tolerant and accommodating, which surprises me. Perhaps I had all of my sharp corners knocked off me during those twelve months with The Someone. When you are obliged to walk daily on egg-shells and crawl regularly through emotional broken-glass, it makes you careful where you place your feet. I have learned to tread softly lest I arouse an angry outburst in another person.

I am also incredibly mellow. Is that the wisdom of age, I wonder, or have I had all of my fight forced from me by Life and the constant spanners (sabots for the Francophiles who will understand) that it throws in my works? I think not, at work I have become quite determined and constantly find myself not only standing up for myself but also rising to my feet in order to answer back at times. No, I think that now I simply chose my battles wisely.

So, my daughter has returned to the nest.

Her presence is good for me, having her here to care for makes me care more for myself. And I enjoy her company, she is a lovely person. And while she picks up the pieces of her life and glues them back together to form a new future, I am supportive and helpful. I am, after all, experienced in the art of recovering from failure and heading off in new directions.

I am also mindful of my own mother's response to my youthful errors. When I was led astray by love and into foolishness, she barred me from the family home and cast me out into the world to fend for myself. They were tough times indeed. I am determined never to judge my own offspring so harshly and never to pass such sentences that would push them away.

We are all fallible and often fragile.

And this weekend her brother is also here.

The Rags are home and I am happy

la neige pour le dimanche....

Aujourd'hui nous avons un léger recouvrement de la neige.

That came from Google translate and is not, I suspect, entirely correct and I am pretty certain not how the French would say it, which proves how much of a minefield is the whole exercise of learning a foreign language, especially if, like me, you were schooled in the sixties.

I mean how many times have you heard a French person utter the phrase "La plume de ma tante?"

I am at my studies today since my French course began officially yesterday and I have 15 hours of work to plough through before next Saturday. The course commences (see - I am starting to speak like a French person speaking English already), the course starts with the history of decolonisation in France after the second world war, a fascinating topic and one that explains a great deal about why the French think as they do.

I also recommend the recent BBC series Jonathan Meades on France (available on iPlayer in the UK but perhaps not for much longer now), the second programme discussed French identity and is, in my opinion, brilliant.

Anyway, if you see me here or lurking in your blog please send me away with un puce in my ear!

But I wanted to give you fellow French-speaking folk a little gift to help you to type with accents if, like me, you can't be bothered to plug in a French laptop

et voilà, a neat toolbar gadget that has French accents at the click of a mouse

http://www.lexicool.com/

It is a safe site, I would not offer you the link otherwise but, as ever, be aware that even the safest and most respectable of websites can be infected at times so do ensure your AV has the ability to scan for malware before clicking.

okey dokey, back to the Algerian war...

bon dimanche!

PS at 13:45 the OU course website where all of the material is held and from which one must study, became unavailable. I suspect that Sunday afternoon is the most popular time to study. I've already expressed my reservations about this course being totally online and the problems that may bring, it's disappointing to find myself proved right so soon!

les tournants...

I no longer believe in signs, symbols, portents

For a long time I slavishly succumbed to such beliefs and allowed this totally unfounded and unscientific stuff to lead me, by the nose, through life, probably because I did not trust my own judgement.

There are events in life which, with hindsight, we recognise as turning points. In French les tournants. You will all have encountered these events and know that at such times many of them present you with a fork in the road and offer you the choice of a new direction.

They're easy. Not the decision, making decisions that will lead to Change is tough and definitely not to be entered into lightly. And certainly not armed only with a pocket full of signs, symbols and superstitions. But they're easy to recognise.

Then there are the other turning points. The ones that are subtle, almost-imperceptible, very hard to recognise, much less to acknowledge. The small events, the little changes, the tiniest influence that has an effect on us without us even realising it at the time. The 'butterfly effect' ones. In order for them to be useful we need to be intuitive and to know ourselves. I don't think I am explaining myself very well at all!

Let me offer an example of a subtle turning point that has had a profound effect on me. I was sick in bed and feeling anxious because I was not at my desk, and deeply depressed because life was not good at that time. And when I am in bed I am never alone. Aside from the furry paws who join me, I have Radio 4 for company. On this occasion I happened, by change, to catch an episode of A History Of The World In 100 Objects, The Swimming Reindeer. I wrote about it here.

And from this incident I learned a lesson that has had a profound effect on me. Not the fact that I adore reindeer, because I've also written about my love of Lapland and snow and reindeer many times, no, I learned that studying a new subject, learning about something totally new, exposing myself to new ideas, opens up new pathways in my brain and makes me smarter and much, much happier.

Many of you will say "Of course it does" but I had never been aware before that day in bed with those swimming reindeer. To say that it affected me would be an understatement, it has led me to discover new ways of dealing with my depression. Whilst I still take my meds daily I also take a large dose of discovering something new too. Remember that weekend that I spent entirely devoted to physics? It was blissful!

So yesterday, at work, I stood up in our daily 'morning prayers' session during which we keep each other informed of that which we are working on (to an outsider it would sound like we talk in tongues, so full of geek-talk is it), and I was surrounded by young men in T-shirts and jeans (even The Big Boss was there and wearing a company T-shirt), and I was wearing a long skirt and my furry Finnish boots and my hair in a plait. And I stood out as different from the crowd.

The Big Boss smiled at me across the room and I told him "I plan to wrestle reindeer tonight" and he told me "You look like you already have, and won!"

And I thought, I AM different and I like that!

I like being thought of as unique, albeit at times naive and old-fashioned and out-of-step

And this uniqueness is appreciated by my employer which values diversity and free-thinking and those who refuse to conform because that is the way to innovation and growth.

And then, and here is where those signs may seem to be glaringly obvious, The Big Boss announced that The Velvet Glove (she who was so against my working remotely) has now taken maternity leave and that he is in charge.

But it isn't a sign, a portent. It is of no importance. What really matters is that I have been learning self-awareness and growing more confident and determined, and that has permitted me to be myself and not to fear being different. So the fact that The Velvet Glove will be out of the picture for a while is not a sign of anything, it was the turning point caused by the swimming reindeer episode will enable me to win my battle to live my life in the way that I chose.