Flat offer falls flat...if only we did it like the French

Our flat is on the market. On Monday a chap put in an offer, then decided the next day to come back for another (3rd) viewing with his mother. This rang alarm bells - why would you come back the day after making an offer? Was he really serious? Despite assuring the estate agent that he was, I remained uncertain. Bringing you mother to view a flat which you have already viewed twice, and that both you and your girlfriend 'really liked' is a little odd. We all know how parents can be: interfering and opinionated (and...always right!), and how influenced children can be by said relatives.

So, on hearing the news of another viewing avec maman, we reined in our excitement about the prospect of potentially moving to the country sooner than we'd hoped... And we were right to do so, two days later we get a call from the estate agent - apparently the chap retracted his offer because despite that fact that he and his girlfriend still liked it, mummy thought the bedroom wasn't quite big enough, and that the flat itself is too close to the Emirates Stadium. We are on a road which stays surprisingly quiet when it's match day (plus, I don't mind the proximity and I HATE football... and my boyfriend is a Man United fan).

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Le Word of the Day: Internaute

The internaute (noun): French for someone who uses the internet.

As far as I am aware, the English language does not entertain a word which describes those who use the internet. We should have one. Not because anything the French can do we can do better, but simply because English is missing a very handy little word.

In French someone who watches la télévision is know as a téléspectateur.

Someone who uses the l'internet is a internaute.

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Les Faits: Saucisson Sec

Ah, saucisson sec... one of the many delicious foods that are associated with France. This sausage is truly one of France's greats, up there with the good 'ole crusty baguette, a ripe brie and a sumptuous Bordeaux.

This is really a versatile sausage: it keeps for ages (it can also be frozen), can be easily transported (great for those long walks) and comes in so many different flavours. On any self-respecting French market you'll find a spectacular array of 'saucisson sec avec...' almost any ingredient under the sun.

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Padlocks d'amour

Love padlocks - or cadenas d'amour as they are known in French - are a rapidly growing Valentine's Day phenomenon. The idea is that couples in love take a padlock then scratch or scrawl their initials or names, or a message (a very short one, or written so small you can barely read it), on to the surface. The lovers then attach it to some railings (they're not fussy, but it's more often than not on a bridge), then throw away the key. This act of vandalism is said to symbolise their love for each other. How nauseating. (However, it does also act as a touching reminder when the relationship comes to an abrupt, unpleasant end: you feel sad, empty and alone every time you walk to work over that 'special' bridge and see your 'love-lock'. A great start to the day. Every day. Bet you wish you hadn't thrown away the key now, eh?)

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Marrying a stranger? Le Saint Valentin is the perfect day for finding one.

The old superstition which states that the first man an unmarried woman sees on St. Valentine's day should be her future husband has, in my humble opinion, many flaws.

Let's pretend we were still pandering to this kind of superstitious nonsense in contemporary society. If this was how things worked, then I'm assuming that a vast number of women would outright refuse to leave their homes (which would make life quite challenging considering the great number of women who work), living in fear that they may end up having to marry 'the guy next door' (literally).

Unless of course they have already woken up with their partner and that he or she is the person they would wish to marry. If not they would have had to throw them out the night before, or, failing that, keep their eyes closed whilst getting ready for work in the morning so they don't lay eyes on them...(this in turn would make the other person feel a tad unloved I suspect).

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Merde, London!

Well, well, well.... who'd have thought that in London you would be more at risk of walking in a dog poo than Paris? I certainly didn't think so.

In Paris at the weekend, I came across my fair share of mess on the pavements. Luckily I didn't tread/slip/fall over in it, but this was only achieved by constantly scanning the ground before me, and if I happened to be, I don't know let's say - sightseeing (never!), then it often resulted in a last minute, slightly off-balance skip/hop/dance round the poo. Nevertheless, Paris is famous for this, so you go prepared for, and expect, the worst.

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Fromage and Crêpes... but not together (this time!)

Now, I have been back here for, what, 3 whole days and I have to say that I am already craving (or suffering withdrawal from) cheese.

Cheese on toast Monday lunchtime has done little to curb this desire, and to top it off, what do I stumble upon on Twitter his morning? A delicious recipe for a Reblochon Fondue, this looks wonderful (and I'm saying this at 9.30am). However, after last week's cheese eating adventure, I'm not sure my body is ready for such extreme cheese eating again so soon.

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