Ups and downs. La petite still refuses to submit to prone nappy changes but, after minor protest, will at least sit down for part of the process. Minor progress, and as the cold and catarrh recedes, and teeth break through the gums, so her mood improves. Meanwhile, the heating finally goes on as temperatures drop, and her parents suffer their own form of seasonal-affective disorder. Tiredness and a ringing in one ear and throbbing in the other finally drove me to the doctor last week. Result: a blood test and a referral to an ENT specialist.
The blood test shows slightly high cholesterol, no surprise there, high iron and low salt and vitamin D levels. Hmm... After initially telling me to cut down on salt to reduce somewhat high blood pressure, the doctor reverses the advice, tells me to cut down on fatty foods, eat less red meat and prescribes more sunshine and a vitamin D supplement. The weather follows orders to a limited extent, turning milder and slightly sunnier.
Meanwhile the ear consultant checks my ears and hearing, and pronounces them both okay. He tells me the causes of tinnitus aren't well known and that there is probably little he can do about it. Doesn't stop him prescribing three different medicaments. No wonder the French national health insurance scheme is several billion Euros in the red. Though when I go to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled I discover one of the drugs is not reimbursed, which leads me to do a bit of research.
It turns out that the drug in question (a vasodilator) is on the 'close watch' list of the French medical safety agency after the equivalent European body pronounced it to have debatable benefits and undesirable side-effects, and recommended its withdrawal from prescriptions for ear problems. Oh, and that also happens to be made by the same pharmaceutical company that produced Mediator, the drug developed to treat overweight diabetics that may have caused the deaths of up to 2000 people before it was banned. Didn't stop the consultant prescribing it or the pharmacist selling it to me. Makes you ponder the nature of the links between consultants, pharmacies and drug companies…
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est french bureaucracy. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est french bureaucracy. Afficher tous les articles
16 octobre 2012
15 septembre 2012
New toys, part 1
In France, cars older than four years are subject to the controle technique, the equivalent of the MOT, every two years. Our more-or-less trusty 15 year-old petite voiture passed the last one, albeit with less-than flying colours. Among the rather lengthy list of non-fatal faults were leaking exhaust (hole slowly getting larger and noisier), non-functioning screen wash, unbalanced hand-brake and 'minor' play in one of the rear axle bearings. In others words, the old girl was beginning to look a bit long in the tooth.
And so, after months, years even, of procrastination, using family expansion as a reason for needing a car, we finally took the decision to replace it. There then followed several weeks of dithering about whether to go for cheap new car, more upmarket second-hand, this brand, that brand, how much to spend, etc, etc. Finally, last weekend, motivated by an imminent 900km round trip that might have tested the old jam jar to the limit, we bit the bullet and drove out to a dealer for a well known French make of car, still not having decided on new or second-hand.
However, having compared the second-hand prices with those in the show-room and compared the different models, we soon made a choice. Seduced by the supposed discount of more than six grand, including trade-in for our near worthless banger, we shunned shopping around and plumped for a shiny, brand-new, all-singing all dancing model with lots of marvellous tricks and gadgets. Well, they seemed marvellous to the owners of a car that was new way back in the last century.
Our excuse was that the salesman promised it would be delivered in time for our upcoming holiday. Easiest commission he ever earned. Apart from when he tried to sell us a finance deal we didn't need. Interestingly he claimed that his commission was more dependent on him selling loans than actual vehicles. Eventually we agreed to take a small, short-term loan in return for an extra discount that made it a 0% deal. Drives a hard bargain, la bienheureuse.
So now, a week later, a brand new car sits in our garage, awaiting its first real outing. Took one or two more attempts to park it too, being somewhat larger than our ancienne voiture, which currently waits its fate at the breaker's yard. Indeed, to ensure it fitted into the garage we had to spend a morning and a trip to the déchèterie to clear out the pile of junk that had mysteriously accumulated at the back. About time too…
And so, after months, years even, of procrastination, using family expansion as a reason for needing a car, we finally took the decision to replace it. There then followed several weeks of dithering about whether to go for cheap new car, more upmarket second-hand, this brand, that brand, how much to spend, etc, etc. Finally, last weekend, motivated by an imminent 900km round trip that might have tested the old jam jar to the limit, we bit the bullet and drove out to a dealer for a well known French make of car, still not having decided on new or second-hand.
However, having compared the second-hand prices with those in the show-room and compared the different models, we soon made a choice. Seduced by the supposed discount of more than six grand, including trade-in for our near worthless banger, we shunned shopping around and plumped for a shiny, brand-new, all-singing all dancing model with lots of marvellous tricks and gadgets. Well, they seemed marvellous to the owners of a car that was new way back in the last century.
Our excuse was that the salesman promised it would be delivered in time for our upcoming holiday. Easiest commission he ever earned. Apart from when he tried to sell us a finance deal we didn't need. Interestingly he claimed that his commission was more dependent on him selling loans than actual vehicles. Eventually we agreed to take a small, short-term loan in return for an extra discount that made it a 0% deal. Drives a hard bargain, la bienheureuse.
So now, a week later, a brand new car sits in our garage, awaiting its first real outing. Took one or two more attempts to park it too, being somewhat larger than our ancienne voiture, which currently waits its fate at the breaker's yard. Indeed, to ensure it fitted into the garage we had to spend a morning and a trip to the déchèterie to clear out the pile of junk that had mysteriously accumulated at the back. About time too…
12 mars 2011
Patient routine
Five days in hospital for the new mother and daughter, five days of climbing up and down les Pentes de la Croix Rousse for the new father. My routine was fairly fixed. Get up, have breakfast, brisk half hour uphill walk in glorious sunshine to the hospital, rest of day getting to know the new arrival, walk back home again in the evening (minor deviation from routine on Tuesday, with an evening in the pub to watch the brave boys in yellow beaten by the Barca ball-hogs. Least said about that the better). The routine for mes deux bien-aimées was more varied, with la petite calling the shots; her and sundry midwives, students, baby care auxiliaries and doctors. Principal aim of the week: both parties learning l'allaitement. The path to complete mastery was far from smooth, and rather painful at times for the food source. But, with the help of a kindly auxiliary specialising in nursing, the pair of them got it more or less sussed by the end of a week of largely sleepless nights.
La bienheureuse recovered well from the operation, la petite coquinette's glugging technique was good enough to start putting on weight again, and on Saturday both were given the all-clear to go home. Via a stop at the pharmacy to collect sundry prescriptions, and another stop at hospital administration to collect birth certificate and livre de famille, la petite famille were finally fully reunited at home sweet home early on Saturday afternoon. From here on in, we were on our own…
La bienheureuse recovered well from the operation, la petite coquinette's glugging technique was good enough to start putting on weight again, and on Saturday both were given the all-clear to go home. Via a stop at the pharmacy to collect sundry prescriptions, and another stop at hospital administration to collect birth certificate and livre de famille, la petite famille were finally fully reunited at home sweet home early on Saturday afternoon. From here on in, we were on our own…
02 mars 2011
No action
Excitement about having a TV crew in the street outside proved ill-founded. Having reserved the parking both sides of the street the length of the block for the whole day, three large vans full of equipment eventually turned up in the afternoon. Technicians got out and then sat in the back smoking and watching the world go by for the next three hours. Eventually a flurry of activity: equipment unloaded and carted off. Less then an hour later everything was packed up and the vans were gone. Seems any filming that took place was in the street around the corner. Much ado about nothing.
Excitement about the new arrival continues unrequited. Five days past due date and still counting. Another checkup at the hospital this afternoon. Everything in perfect order, even the blood pressure of maman, with la petite treating the monitoring machine to one of her gymnastic specials.
Something that was resolved last week was the mystery of the missing parcel. Three visits to the nearest branch of the post office failed to throw up any trace or clue of how to find it. Last throw of the dice: try another branch further away. Nice lady there scans the bar code on the slip left by the postman and immediately tells us the parcel is at another branch, even further away. Why the fonctionnaires at the first branch couldn't have done the same, only they know. Faith in La Poste partially restored. Grumble.
And while I'm at it, another grumble. This morning I felt like a man missing all of his brain rather than just the more useful part: our internet connection went down. First time in a couple of years it has to be said, but the problem was that the phone is on the same cable connection, which meant using a mobile to call the hot line. After nearly half an hour of expensive waiting, the call was eventually answered. The man on the other end diagnosed the problem as either a faulty modem, or a problem with the network in the building. Then came the good news: the first time a technician could come round to sort it out was next Tuesday.
A week without internet, unthinkable! Fortunately, you've guessed it, the connection reappeared half an hour later. Faith in Numericable partially restored.
Excitement about the new arrival continues unrequited. Five days past due date and still counting. Another checkup at the hospital this afternoon. Everything in perfect order, even the blood pressure of maman, with la petite treating the monitoring machine to one of her gymnastic specials.
Something that was resolved last week was the mystery of the missing parcel. Three visits to the nearest branch of the post office failed to throw up any trace or clue of how to find it. Last throw of the dice: try another branch further away. Nice lady there scans the bar code on the slip left by the postman and immediately tells us the parcel is at another branch, even further away. Why the fonctionnaires at the first branch couldn't have done the same, only they know. Faith in La Poste partially restored. Grumble.
And while I'm at it, another grumble. This morning I felt like a man missing all of his brain rather than just the more useful part: our internet connection went down. First time in a couple of years it has to be said, but the problem was that the phone is on the same cable connection, which meant using a mobile to call the hot line. After nearly half an hour of expensive waiting, the call was eventually answered. The man on the other end diagnosed the problem as either a faulty modem, or a problem with the network in the building. Then came the good news: the first time a technician could come round to sort it out was next Tuesday.
A week without internet, unthinkable! Fortunately, you've guessed it, the connection reappeared half an hour later. Faith in Numericable partially restored.
23 février 2011
Pantomime routine
Familiar Monday morning routine: visit to l'Hôpital de la Croix Rousse; blood tests, blood pressure checks for la mère; heart monitoring for le bébé. All A-okay, blood pressure even slightly lower than normal. And one contraction detected. Ooerr, not long now…
Back at home, frustration. La Poste has managed to lose a parcel containing a vital means of support. They tried to deliver last week when we were at the hospital, so left a note telling us to collect it from the nearest branch. Next day, try to pick it up: "not here yet." Following day, try again: "can't find it, we'll try and find out where it is and call you." Three days later, still no phone call, so go back and ask. "Sorry, can't find it, won't find it, nothing we can do without a tracking number." Grr…
Yesterday evening I was spoilt by a second live match in a week. The richest team in the world were the visitors to Lyon and, for a seventh match in a row, they failed to beat little OL. They did manage to avoid defeat at Gerland this time, thanks to les gones' inability to turn a first half superiority into goals. Still, I enjoyed myself roundly booing some old favourite pantomime villains. Seems Greedybayor has been taking diving and whinging lessons from the Step-over nancy boy and the Special Bore. The latter replaced two attacking midfielders with a defender and defensive midfielder in an attempt to shut up shop when the royal madrilènes scored midway through the second half (relying on an ex-lyonnais to give them the lead), handing the initiative back to OL. Tactical genius.
Back at home, frustration. La Poste has managed to lose a parcel containing a vital means of support. They tried to deliver last week when we were at the hospital, so left a note telling us to collect it from the nearest branch. Next day, try to pick it up: "not here yet." Following day, try again: "can't find it, we'll try and find out where it is and call you." Three days later, still no phone call, so go back and ask. "Sorry, can't find it, won't find it, nothing we can do without a tracking number." Grr…
Yesterday evening I was spoilt by a second live match in a week. The richest team in the world were the visitors to Lyon and, for a seventh match in a row, they failed to beat little OL. They did manage to avoid defeat at Gerland this time, thanks to les gones' inability to turn a first half superiority into goals. Still, I enjoyed myself roundly booing some old favourite pantomime villains. Seems Greedybayor has been taking diving and whinging lessons from the Step-over nancy boy and the Special Bore. The latter replaced two attacking midfielders with a defender and defensive midfielder in an attempt to shut up shop when the royal madrilènes scored midway through the second half (relying on an ex-lyonnais to give them the lead), handing the initiative back to OL. Tactical genius.
02 juillet 2010
Hot and bothered
As France's favourite weather girl told us on TV last night, a canicule is defined as three or more successive days when the thermometer climbs above a certain limit during the day and doesn't drop below another at night (34C and 20C for Lyon), and as such, strictly speaking, we aren't yet enduring a heatwave. Well, wall to wall sunshine and temperatures hovering around and above 30C since Saturday is plenty hot enough for me. A thermometer outside the bedroom window showed 29C at 10.30pm last night, was back up at 28C by 10am this morning and is now showing 36C in the shade. And no end in sight. Summer took its time arriving, but now it's here with a vengeance.
Elsewhere, the heat is still on the Fédération Française de Football. The president finally bowed to the inevitable last weekend and announced his resignation, and a meeting of the ruling body has been going on today. The resignation of Escalettes was accepted, but the election of his successor has been delayed until the next meeting in three weeks because of a failure between the amateurs and professionals to agree on a compromise. They did however make one definite decision, confirming the appointment of Laurent Blanc as the next French coach.
Another public figure sweating under the spotlight is the labour minister Eric Woerth, linked with a tax scandal involving the richest woman in France, L'Oréal heiress Liliane Bettencourt, who recently promised to 'regularise' her tax affairs after being accused of tax evasion via Swiss bank accounts. The questions arise because Woerth was budget minister until March this year, and thus in charge of fiscal administration at the same time as his wife was working as tax advisor for the company which manages some of Bettencourt's financial interests. She has since resigned but the opposition and media remain on the attack. Clandestine recordings of conversations involving a Bettencourt advisor have surfaced, in which Woerth's name is mentioned several times a payment of 7500 euros towards Woerth's election campaign is sanctioned. Which is apparently entirely legitimate, but that won't stop more questions being asked. For the moment the Sarkozy camp is backing their man…
Elsewhere, the heat is still on the Fédération Française de Football. The president finally bowed to the inevitable last weekend and announced his resignation, and a meeting of the ruling body has been going on today. The resignation of Escalettes was accepted, but the election of his successor has been delayed until the next meeting in three weeks because of a failure between the amateurs and professionals to agree on a compromise. They did however make one definite decision, confirming the appointment of Laurent Blanc as the next French coach.
Another public figure sweating under the spotlight is the labour minister Eric Woerth, linked with a tax scandal involving the richest woman in France, L'Oréal heiress Liliane Bettencourt, who recently promised to 'regularise' her tax affairs after being accused of tax evasion via Swiss bank accounts. The questions arise because Woerth was budget minister until March this year, and thus in charge of fiscal administration at the same time as his wife was working as tax advisor for the company which manages some of Bettencourt's financial interests. She has since resigned but the opposition and media remain on the attack. Clandestine recordings of conversations involving a Bettencourt advisor have surfaced, in which Woerth's name is mentioned several times a payment of 7500 euros towards Woerth's election campaign is sanctioned. Which is apparently entirely legitimate, but that won't stop more questions being asked. For the moment the Sarkozy camp is backing their man…
20 avril 2009
Un déjeuner trop loin
Last week saw the end of a much-treasured French tradition - the inclusion of the département number in new vehicle registration numbers. It was going to disappear from registration plates entirely, but the announcement of the introduction of the new style numbers last year invoked such a furore that the government backtracked slightly. The style of the new numbers remains unchanged - a rather boring 2 letters, 3 digits, 2 letters, compared to the old style 3/4 digits, 2/3 letters, followed by the 2 digit numéro du département - but the new plates will now also contain an optional department number (and regional logo) which isn't part of the immatriculation, and can be changed.
There is quite a strongly developed sense of regional identity in France (no different to anywhere else, no doubt), and the numéro du département on number plates was something people seemed extraordinarily fond of. For instance, the Rhône and thus Lyon is 69 (to which I have to admit to a certain naughty attachment myself), so spot another 69 registered car on the autoroute, and you know 'ah, there's a fellow lyonnais', or as 75-registered car roars past being driven without regard for other road users, you know it's a Parisian.
Elsewhere, Sarkozy was doing his usual bull in a china shop impression last week. At a lunch with an all-party group of MPs, he treated his fellow diners to his opinions on fellow world-leaders. Ranging from 'lacks experience' on Obama, 'she came round to my opinion' on Merkel, to 'perhaps not very intelligent' on Zapatero, the Spanish PM. Not surprisingly, as members of the opposition were present, news soon leaked out. Initially government spokesmen denied any such comments, but in the face of an overwhelming number of witnesses, the tune soon changed to 'the comments were misinterpreted'. Suprisingly, the news initially received rather low-key coverage here, at least until Ségolène Royal's recent apology to Spain 'on behalf of the French people', which has created an significantly large storm than le Président's comments in the first place. The Ségo-Sarko show rolls on...
There is quite a strongly developed sense of regional identity in France (no different to anywhere else, no doubt), and the numéro du département on number plates was something people seemed extraordinarily fond of. For instance, the Rhône and thus Lyon is 69 (to which I have to admit to a certain naughty attachment myself), so spot another 69 registered car on the autoroute, and you know 'ah, there's a fellow lyonnais', or as 75-registered car roars past being driven without regard for other road users, you know it's a Parisian.
Elsewhere, Sarkozy was doing his usual bull in a china shop impression last week. At a lunch with an all-party group of MPs, he treated his fellow diners to his opinions on fellow world-leaders. Ranging from 'lacks experience' on Obama, 'she came round to my opinion' on Merkel, to 'perhaps not very intelligent' on Zapatero, the Spanish PM. Not surprisingly, as members of the opposition were present, news soon leaked out. Initially government spokesmen denied any such comments, but in the face of an overwhelming number of witnesses, the tune soon changed to 'the comments were misinterpreted'. Suprisingly, the news initially received rather low-key coverage here, at least until Ségolène Royal's recent apology to Spain 'on behalf of the French people', which has created an significantly large storm than le Président's comments in the first place. The Ségo-Sarko show rolls on...
11 juin 2008
Tout le monde se plaint
Plenty of grumbles in France at the moment - the weather, the price of fuel, the imminent loss of regional car registration plates, the échec de l'équipe de France in their first match, etc, etc...
The weather recently has been unprecedented. May and June can usually be relied on for a good dose of sunshine, the beginning of summer, but since the first few days of last month, we've had five weeks of virtually unremitting cloud and rain, at least in the southern half of the country. Cold too. It's been somewhat topsy-turvy, with the north having had warmer and better weather than the south. The Côte d'Azur tourist industry is complaining about the worst start to the summer season ever.
And then of course, there's the spiraling price of petrol. Or diesel, which is what the majority of voitures run on. Road hauliers, taxi drivers and the like continue to protest, while politicians are trying to put pressure on Total to use some of their obscene profits to cut prices. Fat chance...
Another aspect of motoring in France is also causing much protest at the moment. The registration plate numbering system which includes the departement number, a peculiarity held dear by much of the population, is soon to be phased out. Seems a shame to me too. It's not only kids who indulge in registration plate spotting - there's a 69, fellow lyonnais, and there goes a despised 75, parisien, etc, etc...
And finally, more strikes yesterday, continuing in patches today. Public service & transport unions continuing to complaining about low spending power and job cuts. Mind you, with patchy support and all these other preoccupations, no-one's really taken any notice...
The weather recently has been unprecedented. May and June can usually be relied on for a good dose of sunshine, the beginning of summer, but since the first few days of last month, we've had five weeks of virtually unremitting cloud and rain, at least in the southern half of the country. Cold too. It's been somewhat topsy-turvy, with the north having had warmer and better weather than the south. The Côte d'Azur tourist industry is complaining about the worst start to the summer season ever.
And then of course, there's the spiraling price of petrol. Or diesel, which is what the majority of voitures run on. Road hauliers, taxi drivers and the like continue to protest, while politicians are trying to put pressure on Total to use some of their obscene profits to cut prices. Fat chance...
Another aspect of motoring in France is also causing much protest at the moment. The registration plate numbering system which includes the departement number, a peculiarity held dear by much of the population, is soon to be phased out. Seems a shame to me too. It's not only kids who indulge in registration plate spotting - there's a 69, fellow lyonnais, and there goes a despised 75, parisien, etc, etc...
And finally, more strikes yesterday, continuing in patches today. Public service & transport unions continuing to complaining about low spending power and job cuts. Mind you, with patchy support and all these other preoccupations, no-one's really taken any notice...
11 avril 2008
La declaration des impots
This year marks the first time we have to fill in tax returns on our own. Not entirely unaided mind you, because we had a lesson yesterday on how to do it from the lawyer who did it for us last year. In previous years, accountants provided under the terms of la bienheureuse's mutation to France had submitted our returns for us, though it's debatable whether this made things easier or not, as the forms they provided for us to fill in seemed more complicated than the tax forms themselves. Though of course they were in English, so in theory the chances of a faulty tax return were reduced...
France still collects tax in arrears. ie salaries are paid untaxed (though in contrast, social security contributions are removed at source, and the latter take almost as large a slice of our income as income tax), and tax returns for the year only have to be submitted by the end of May the following year. And it's possible to pay the tax for one year in a single lump sum, the deadline for which isn't until the end of September. Though there are also options to pay in 3 installments spread between March and September, or in 10 'monthly' installments. All very complicated. There was talk before the election of moving to a pay as you earn system, as in the UK, but that requires figuring out how to handle the changeover year, notably whether everybody in France gets one year 'tax-free', so it remains to be seen whether it ever happens.
They have made things slightly easier in recent years, at least for people on a regular salary, by introducing 'pré-remplit' tax returns. ie the forms arrive in our letter box, partly filled in with name, address, etc, and one's taxable income for the year, which is provided to the tax authorities by one's employer. All of which makes it fairly simple to fill out. In fact, we really only have one other figure to fill in - total income from bank account interest. And if we do it online we don't even need to provided the documentary evidence that's required if it's done with a paper form. Marvelous. Though of course we do have to keep the documents available in case the authorities decided to check. Our advisor told us this was unlikely though. Ho hum...
France still collects tax in arrears. ie salaries are paid untaxed (though in contrast, social security contributions are removed at source, and the latter take almost as large a slice of our income as income tax), and tax returns for the year only have to be submitted by the end of May the following year. And it's possible to pay the tax for one year in a single lump sum, the deadline for which isn't until the end of September. Though there are also options to pay in 3 installments spread between March and September, or in 10 'monthly' installments. All very complicated. There was talk before the election of moving to a pay as you earn system, as in the UK, but that requires figuring out how to handle the changeover year, notably whether everybody in France gets one year 'tax-free', so it remains to be seen whether it ever happens.
They have made things slightly easier in recent years, at least for people on a regular salary, by introducing 'pré-remplit' tax returns. ie the forms arrive in our letter box, partly filled in with name, address, etc, and one's taxable income for the year, which is provided to the tax authorities by one's employer. All of which makes it fairly simple to fill out. In fact, we really only have one other figure to fill in - total income from bank account interest. And if we do it online we don't even need to provided the documentary evidence that's required if it's done with a paper form. Marvelous. Though of course we do have to keep the documents available in case the authorities decided to check. Our advisor told us this was unlikely though. Ho hum...
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