The usual end-of-year trip back to England has turned up a bit earlier this year. It means that I can play in all the local concerts in France, and we get a bit longer in England, both generally Good Things.
I was surprised to note that one of the things I was looking forward to before going over, was the food. And rightly so, too. Thai, Indian in restaurants, proper roast pork and crackling with friends, and a perfectly rare filet mignon cooked by the Brother-in-Law, featured highly in the culinary delights.
Shouting at the telly. I paraphrase: "My brother went to fight for isis so Britain shouldn't bomb Syria in case they blow him up".
Difficulty of recruiting the right person for the job, or, in fact, not recruiting the wrong one. The checklist the interviewer has to fill out covers things like "Does he/she have the following qualifications?", and the candidate looks great on paper. The trouble is, he is known to be utterly incompetent in the rôle, since he has been doing it (or, rather, screwing it up) on a temp basis for the last 6 months. There's nothing on the checklist form for "Can he/she do the job?"
There are more and better coffee bars in English towns than French ones. The French ones are dying on their feet, English ones are everywhere. And the English are muscling in on the quick fixed price lunch too. We got very fine two-course meals for under a tenner. Three courses if you want, for 14 pounds. The Brits are out-Frenching the French.
Property prices. Nearly half a million quid for a lovely but small one-bed cottage in Lewes. Wanna buy my place? 800K pounds, bargain. (Offer expires 1st Jan 2016)
The Savill Garden is still lovely, even in December. And the entry was free; 18 pounds off, for two.
A Christmas Fair in Wimbledon village, with free mince pies and mulled wine, and people singing Christian Christmas carols, as opposed to "holiday songs".