I hate Orange
Firstly, I’m sorry that I didn’t post yesterday but there is a good reason: My internet has died. I swear to anyone living here, never ever, ever sign up to Orange broadband. It’s awful. Every time we come out here, there are problems and we’re left without internet. Plus, there’s nothing they can do except send someone within the next few days to come and repair it. It’s frankly not good enough. They’re lucky I’m too lazy to go to the nearest town and complain in their shop. I’m dreadful like that. I just feel it’s unacceptable that we have to call their expensive hotline on our mobile phones, charging us money, to sort out the internet that again, we’re paying for, because they can’t maintain a connection. Ridiiiiclous. A very unhappy Emily. The internet is literally all I have here: There is nothing to do in the middle of the countryside AND I’m in the middle of receiving my university replies. They’ve gotten away lightly this time I promise you.
Anyway, enough of the ranting. Not too much drama happened yesterday apart from Orange broadband failing us. We went to the local village market in the morning that is on every Thursday and we bought quite a few bits and pieces. They shut off all of the roads going through the village and the streets are lined with various stalls selling some of the most random things. There are food stalls selling every type of food you could think of from paella to the Spanish sugared doughnuts that the French call chichi (churros in Spanish). There are stalls selling second hand jumpers and clothes – I know they’re second hand because one of the jumpers that I picked up still had someone’s nametag still sewed into it. I wonder if Pascal knows that I’ve bought his jumper…
There are stalls selling things that you would usually see scattered around Poundland – other pound shops are available – like random screws, hammers, party straws, hairbands and various other boot fair type things. My favourite stall of all has to be the stool that has about 500 knives spread across the table. Not just kitchen knives; but butchers knives, carving knives, every kind of knife you could think of. The last time I came here I saw some youthful looking ‘adults’ buying a few of the more menacing looking knives. But hey, they could have been chefs, who knows.
We didn’t buy any of those things though (except for Pascal’s jumper). We bought some nice material for some cushions that we’re planning to make from one of the hundred material stalls – realistically we probably won’t ever get around to it. We bought some fancy tea from one of the organic stalls (that I’ve pretty much almost already used up, sorry Mum!) and some cauliflower with which we made a delicious cauliflower cheese bake for dinner. Then I decided that I would like some nice, fresh local honey to put in my new expensive organic tea. Something I now wish I had overlooked. We walked all the way back to one of the first stalls that we saw to buy it from a lovely woman with whom I was talking when my Mum had seen another local ex-pat Englishman that she knew.
Although by this time, it was absolutely pissing it down. We were getting reeeally wet by the time that we arrived at her stall, and to our dismay a French couple enquiring about the honey was already using the little bit of shelter that was above it. We stood there in the rain for a good 10 minutes, getting wetter and wetter. This French couple didn’t even seem to realise that we were just waiting there in the increasingly heavy rain as they asked for explanations about every type of honey on the table and their different properties. And then I heard “Donc, c’est vous qui faites le miel? C’est comment que vous le faites?” << So, it’s you who makes the honey? How exactly do you make it? >> Oh for god’s sake, I thought. Really? You’re really going to ask that? So, after another 20 minutes in the rain they finally decided that they had asked, and heard, enough about the science behind making the honey, how the artisan’s mother and father would never wear any protection against the bees and never once got stung and where abouts in the world it is that she travels to taste different honey. We got the standard ‘all flower’ honey. Next time I will be going to E.Leclerc.
Thanks to our lack of internet, I was in bed by half past nine and so falling asleep that early saw me waking up at HALF PAST FOUR in the morning. This is a time only acceptable to wake up when you’re going on holiday.
Oh, and I hope that you all had a good Valentine’s day.