Never say 'jamais' again

I started on a new project after picking up the kids from school today: getting the soil ready for a bigger vegetable patch, next spring. 

It's ambitious on more than one level. For a start, I know close to nothing about gardening and growing food. And if that's not enough of a hurdle, I'm not really methodic. Therefore, on sunday, I spent two hours digging out a local comestible weed pourpier that had overtaken our smaller patch. What will happen in a plot 4 times larger? .
I promised myself not to let it get out of control, we'll see if I can stick to that. Especially after I dumped five loads of dried horse-manure on the plot. And it's just the beginning. There is a good dozen more trips to be made with the wheelbarrow. The fecal fertilizer is on the ground of the old tobacco barn.It's been there for years, at least since the previous occupier (horse rider and saddle maker) left and it's worked wonders on the flower beds in front of the house. 


Nevertheless, manure is not selective -in case you wondered- and will help good and bad seeds to grow. But we're not there yet. Once the whole plot is covered, my neighbour Jean-Paul, a retired farmer will come and mix it to the soil with his old tractor and some scary contraption.

Where am I going, telling you all this? 

Well, as I was transferring dried horse pooh into the wheelbarrow, I realised that I was literally doing what I swore I'd never do again: shoveling shit. In my previous tv life in London, I got stuck on a production job sorting out a rather large and pointless mass of news items for our regional channels and different show-producers. And I had no better analogy to describe my task than that: shoveling shit. 

I didn't cope with it for too long and moved onto better things, promising myself  not to do that ever again... and there I am,  I just did it, with a smile on my face. Nothing's carved in stone ...

But my lesson in relativity didn't stop there. The impenetrable ways of the French administrative system have taught me more. 

We've been in France for more than 3 months now, and without any healthcare coverage whatsoever. Until today. 

Before moving here, the 'Securite Sociale' told me that we'd get the basic free coverage called CMU. It was a different story once we got here. An employee suggested we'd get an European card delivered by the UK, a card for people on holiday and valid for 1 year. I explained we were not traveling but living here. I checked with the UK and was confirmed in my believes, no European card but instead the possibility to transfer our file to France. I just had to print the E106 file and send it back to HMRS. 

After a few weeks, the answer came back. Because we only worked in the UK for 18 months, we were not eligible to be covered by the UK. Nothing, zero, back to square one. 

In the meantime, my lovely wife had worked enough hours here to receive healthcare coverage, for her and the kids and even I. So it's done, thanks to my British wife, working for an American company, whereas I, a French national, salaried in France for six years before leaving the country in 2006 was not entitled to anything. The Administrative Lord works in mysterious ways.