The silence of the lame…….
Lame we most definitely were, hobbled by the devastating trail that a monstrous storm carved through South West France. Allegedly. We had seen and felt for ourselves that the storm was real enough, roaring through the town like a train that had no intention of stopping. It scarcely buffeted the metre thick stone walls of our homes, but rattled roof tiles and shutters, road signs and trees, like a bad tempered infant chucking toys from its pram.
The reason for the silence however, came falteringly by word of mouth. We had experienced the faltering lights that precede total power failure. The Maire had cranked up the old war time Tannoy system to warn us all to stay indoors, safe from falling masonry. We picked up our phones to confer with each other – dead, no phone line. Those of us with old fashioned battery radios rushed to their dusty hiding place in the attic, nothing, no radio. No mobile phones, no television, no computers. We had no contact with the outside world.
One or two brave souls ventured out in their cars towards neighbouring villages, they were soon turned back by gendarmes, the roads were closed to all but emergency vehicles. The airports were closed, the trains stationary we were told. We had only rumour to support the theory that the storm had caused widespread damage. It could have been a coup, it could have been a nuclear bomb.
So much for the cyber dissidents spreading truth and information round the globe, unstoppable by any government. We had been hobbled, not so much by the storm, for that had barely damaged us, but by our dependence on a central state feeding us that which we need, so many squawking fledglings with mouths trustingly agape. Our nest had been rudely cast to the ground.
Within hours the phone came alive briefly, merely to give us an automated message telling us that water was now rationed, since it was pumped by electricity.
Modern life had deserted us – we discovered that shops were unable to open their metal shutters, the banks unable to discharge cash – even those congratulating themselves on their foresight in buying generators quickly found that the petrol pumps could not replenish their tanks without electricity.
This, though, is a community that has not lost touch with its agricultural roots; we don’t dwell on the 20th floor of a block of flats, sans chimney. The streets outside our homes are not inhabited by those prepared to kill and maim in order to acquire that which you have. Defrosting freezers disgorged haunches of venison and piping hot portions , cooked on a portable gas heater, were soon shared out. Candles lit. The baker hauled out his ancient wood fired oven and an orderly queue formed for bread. No water? Cellars were raided for the local Château Margaux. M. Le Tabac stood on the back door step of his establishment and handed out cartons of cigarettes to those in need, payment to be made when cash was accessible. If there is a moral in this tale, it is surely to pick your disaster zone with care – it could have been deep-fried Mars bars and Irn-Bru.
We existed like this for some days, the phone returning for tantalisingly short periods of time, sufficient for me to dial Coco’s number from memory – all my phone records were stored on the stubbornly silent computer – and hand over to her the passwords for this web site. ( a round of applause please, for the technophobic Coco and her new found Internet competence who has kept this site going!)
Nobody attempted to profit from the situation; there was wood for heating, food for eating, fresh water from a reliable ‘source’, good wine, naturally, and all was shared equally. One old man told me that ‘we managed fine during the war without any help from the central government, it will be fine, you’ll see’. Indeed, I formed the impression after several similar conversations that the French view of central government is akin to that of the groom, witnessing the drunken antics of an errant Father-in-law at the the wedding feast. Unwilling to make such a fuss that he severs the bonds that link them, the ramifications being too far reaching, so rolling his eyes in exasperation and acknowledgement of the self evident truth that you shouldn’t expect too much of an incompetent buffoon.
These people have not succumbed to abject dependency, nay enslavement, to a central government. They accept its bonuses, but keep their winter clothes to hand, aware that the sun may not always shine.
Perhaps that is the basic difference between the two countries. The UK welfare state and a prolonged period of peace and prosperity, have inured the people to imagine that the Great State will always provide, and gradually we have lost the ability to fend for ourselves. If the water ceases to flow from the taps, we ask ‘where is the water tanker’, why haven’t ‘they’ arrived to help us, ‘they’ should have made sure this couldn’t happen, what are ‘they’ doing about this.
Time was when every Briton knew how to catch and skin a rabbit, knew which water was safe to drink. Now we have a generation reared on Turkey Twizzlers and Carlsberg Lager. We have handed over responsibility for filling our own bellies to conglomerates and Government departments in return for questionable labour, sometimes questionable idleness, which we exchange for pieces of near worthless paper, exchanged in turn for near worthless food.
With the power restored, I learn that there has been civil unrest in Iceland, Latvia and other Eastern European countries that teeter on the edge of European ‘civilisation’ – perhaps it will spread, perhaps your community too will suffer a similar disaster, whether from divine intervention or civil unrest.
Ask yourself, how prepared are you to take responsibility for yourself?
January 29, 2009 at 00:24
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And, just looking at my face in the cold light of the wee small hours, …
From Here to Baboonity?
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January 29, 2009 at 00:12
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Taking into account the briefs encounter … From Here to Maternity,
possibly?
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January 29, 2009 at 00:07
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Saul –
Your avatar choice is simple: Paul Newman or Alfred E.
Neuman.
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January 29, 2009 at 00:06
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The Pelican Briefs?
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January 29, 2009 at 00:01
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For a briefs encounter?
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January 28, 2009 at 23:55
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From Here to Infirmity …
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January 28, 2009 at 23:37
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And ………. If only I could use the avatar that I want to use ………….. The
avatar people have not got back to me yet …………….. It is not fair!
Saul …………. Get a Charles Bronson or Brad Pitt one …….. That would be nice
to look at ………..
- January 28, 2009 at 21:50
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If I could only find a Montgomery Clift avatar.
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January 28, 2009 at 21:48
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Saul – getcherself an avatar! (Just when you think it’s safe to go back in
the …)
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January 28, 2009 at 21:46
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We could work up a routine , clicking our hips in time to a syncopatin’
rhythm – that’d have everyone on the edge of their seats, wouldn’t it? Top of
the Nearly Hip-Pops, perhaps?
- January 28, 2009 at 21:43
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Hansom of you to give me a fare chance.
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January 28, 2009 at 21:39
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January 28, 2009 at 21:36
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Ok, never let it be said that I don’t give people a fare chance, but if
I’m(f)rank, the clock’s ticking on you, young man.
- January 28, 2009 at 21:31
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Don’t be yellow. Stay right here.
- January 28, 2009 at 21:30
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Oh! Please don’t take offence. I merely thought about two contrasting
individuals. Think Prince and Pauper, or Phoebe and her twin sister.
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January 28, 2009 at 21:30
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That’s it, it’s all got too much. I’m off. Taxi!
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January 28, 2009 at 21:25
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Oooooooh! That’s insulting to BOTH of us (although I guess I’m Danny De
Vito?)
- January 28, 2009 at 21:21
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Why am I reminded of Danny De Vito and Arnold Schwarzenegerr in Twins!
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January 28, 2009 at 21:13
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Smudd considers the swap; be seen as a bright, beautiful, quick-witted
‘ideas’ person .. or .. be seen as a daft, rambling, toothless, clicky-hipped
and aesthetically challenged person … it’s very tempting ……
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January 28, 2009 at 19:55
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Now ……… that would be pure evil! ……….. But one has forgotten something Ms
Smudd ………. I have these new incredible powers ………
And I could just swap your posts for mine …….. And you would appear as me
……….. What a perishing thought ……….
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January 28, 2009 at 19:39
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And you will have it, dear lady, you will have it; it sometimes takes a
while for the piccy to kick in. Now off to Real Life with you and I’ll treat
myself to some Spam fritters. TTFN. (Smudd signs off and considers getting
herself an avatar of Marlene Dietrich, just for badness…..)
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January 28, 2009 at 19:33
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Just ask me how long Anna Raccoon was on the phone trying to help me!!!
It has accepted me ……. But when I it comes down to it ……… having cleared my
cache as they say (techno-speak) It says check …….. so I checked and checked
and made sure that my email was the right one …….. and then ……. fuck all!
I have written to the support at Gravatar telling them how crap I am ……..
and they have not come back to me yet.
Still ………. I can do the odd smilie – and when I do the stories I can use
the itallics ………. so it’s a step forward from last week!
I went to an all-girls school that promised me I would never need to learn
these typing skills because I would always have a secretary to do it for me
………. And then ……….. computers were available to the masses and I was left in
the cold ……….
Though I say it myself ………I am fucking brilliant with a dictaphone
though!
I have got paper-work and Real Life to do ………. but my priority is to get a
Dietrich pic next to my name ……… How sad is that? I should be bollocking my
pet insurers as we speak and filling in some forms ……… but I WANT MY
AVATAR!!!
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January 28, 2009 at 19:23
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Fair enough. Want to know how to get an avatar of Marlene Dietrich?
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January 28, 2009 at 19:03
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Uggggghhhhh! Stop it Gloria Smudd! You are not the twin that I lost. No
way!
My twin will be beautiful with her own silk-spun hair and teeth ………. She
will play the lyre and the harp in cathedrals and be conversant with all
manner of ladies things ……… I fear that you are not my twin after all.
Please help me find my twin though …….
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January 28, 2009 at 19:00
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Anna Raccoon and I will be holding regular surgeries on here shortly ……..
So if you have a problem with your other half, paying your gas bill or
wondering what to do with your naughty kids or bastard of a bank manager ……….
please feel free to write in and ask for our help!
I have managed to persuade many experts to provide up-to-date information
………. So don’t just imagine that it’s Anna Raccoon and I that are providing the
information ………… You may get help from one of your favourite film-stars or
even Gordie Bruney …………
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January 28, 2009 at 19:00
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… corn plasters, industrial-strength Immac, roomy bloomers and a glass for
me teeth.
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January 28, 2009 at 18:54
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Supportive corsetry around the breast region …………. I must have bones and a
broad shoulder-strap! I’m not bragging! I just don’t like the swinging
pendulous look ………..
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January 28, 2009 at 18:40
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A bag of pork scratchings, support tights, Werther’s Originals, Swarfega
and Pink Ointment and a trip to Mr Teasy-Weasy once a month for a “Thora Hird”
hairdo… it’s a virtually identical beauty regime!
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January 28, 2009 at 18:36
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Hair extensions – or additions as I like to call them ……… YSL beauty balm
mixed with embalming lotion and a cup of hot lemon every morning …….. with a
spoonful of honey or unrefined sugar …………
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January 28, 2009 at 18:34
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Noooooooooo! Not after all these years! Are you the twin that was wrenched
from my Mother’s arms as we shopped for gloves at Liberty?
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January 28, 2009 at 18:33
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Let’s swap fashion, hair and make-up tips!
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January 28, 2009 at 18:30
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Dear, dear Ms Coco – if my avatar is a picture of you, I can only conclude
we were separated at birth. Oh-oh – double the trouble on a girls’ night
out!
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January 28, 2009 at 18:07
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janes! Merci beaucoup! Anna Raccoon is a fine and patient tutor! It’s a
small wonder that everything didn’t collapse though! I pressed and clicked so
many things that I was clueless about. Ah but all was well that ended well
…………….
Ms Gloria Smudd! Why have you chosen a picture of me as your avatar? Where
did you find that? At least the posters will see why I have to wear make-up to
even take my rubbish out!
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January 28, 2009 at 18:03
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Robert the Biker!
They should never be allowed in the sea – even if they have learned to swim
…….. Imagine all that peroxide and their fake tans! There would be major
pollution!!! Not to mention if they peed in the water ……….. Can you imagine
the steroids getting into the sea-weed? We would have teenage mutant sea-weed
crawling into town ………..
- January 28, 2009 at 16:49
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Hi AR – I was feeling sorry for you but not any more, I wish I had been
there instead of working here.
I spent last week waiting for an oil
delivery – my own fault, I like to wait until it is really empty before I
order – no central heating, very slow cooking and no hot water use allowed.
But, loads of gathering wood, making fires and chatting about managing very
well in times of (very) minor crisis. I’m now considering re-training the
ponies to pull a trap, it might come in useful come the revolution.
p.s did
you make loads of new friends?
p.p.s congrats Coco, would never have known
you were a technophobe.
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January 28, 2009 at 16:22
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Coco:
Yes, I love it here, the people are great and we can buy most
necessities from the local farmers.
The Essex lot are pretty much stuffed I
agree.
If you want an unlikely example of self reliant people, might I
point you towards your nearest canal and the boaty types who live there. I
also have a sailboat, so if things ever really kick off, I will simply go out
about a mile and see how many scrotes ever learned to swim
.
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January 28, 2009 at 16:21
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Too late, I fear … I’ve just twanged something that hasn’t been twanged for
a very long time …
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January 28, 2009 at 16:05
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January 28, 2009 at 15:57
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May I just say how very glad we are to see you back, Ms Raccoon, and for
sharing your windy experiences with us so vividly. Despite my clicky hip, I am
tempted to try a few cartwheels in honour of your return.
- January 28, 2009 at 15:29
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Robert the Biker! Now you are talking! East Sussex is fab! In fact it’s one
of my favourite places to live in the UK after Dorset and Torquay.
Most of the French cannot stand the Parisians but I must admit – I have
never had a problem ………….. which is exta-cool coz I am a Brit but some of my
friends have not had much fun in Paris especially if they were working
there.
I reckon you are right about surviving if you are in East Sussex …….. but
what of the Essex crew? I fear they would be doomed to destruction and
starvation ……… Which isn’t altogether a bad thing!
- January 28, 2009 at 15:23
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Beej!!! May I come and live with you for a couple of weeks please?
What was one saying about the magic mushrooms?
I
would like a freezerful of this curry! I love magic because I am a Fairy from
Fairyland and just generally need lots of hallucinogenics around me!
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January 28, 2009 at 15:20
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Right…..
Coco:
You could compare the wrinklies left in squalor here
with the ones in Paris who DIED because their families simply abandoned them
to go on holiday, couple of summers ago was it?
Anna:
Agree entirely,
except that for every sink estate, France has either a banilieu or a similar
ghetto filled with Algerians or African thugs and oxygen thieves.
For every
London there is a Paris, for every Manchester a Marseilles.
I have been to
France and loved the people; but those were the rural French, who detest the
Parisiennes. I have no doubt that in the event of a catastrphe, we would both
end up with a similar percentage of survivors and they would none of them be
from the major cities.
Down my way (East Sussex) the people all help one
another when things go awry.
- January 28, 2009 at 15:20
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Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh mein Gott!
Now I know exactly how you felt during the tempest Anna Raccoon!!!
I am
at a complete stand-still now!
My refrigerator light has gone out just a few moments ago
- January 28, 2009 at 15:07
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Hey! Welcome back! And what an amazing bunch you are!
I think here on the razor edge of a gruesome city centre, we’d be able to
cope, as we have a range of people who’ve run from war-torn countries, so we’d
probably meet up in the Somali caff over the road and feast on barbied fox,
Chinese beer (from the Chinese caff), and curried (Bangladesh caff) wotnots
scrumped from the botanical gardens up the road thanks to the intrepid
scrumping skills of us pensioners with wheelie bags and memories of our
disgraceful childhood and adolescence. Curried magic mushrooms, Mr Tan? Just
help yourself……..
- January 28, 2009 at 14:32
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Robert the Biker ……….. Thanks for your uplifting post ……… It’s good to know
that you still have faith in the British to help each other out in times of
need ……….. I have lost that faith lately.
I have only noticed people bragging about keeping themselves to themselves
……… and thinking it’s right and proper not to neighbour and engage with their
community.
This is why so many children and pets are living in squalor and being
neglected and abused. It’s why elderly and infirm people are left to lie in
pools of urine without a neighbour to bring in the milk from their steps or
even push newspapers through letter-boxes.
This afternoon I shall deliberately look for some evidence of human
kindness ………. that is not within the confines of an organised voluntary group
in the community.
I will ignore the Oicks who scrap over a car-space at John Lewis. I will
not be horrified that people won’t even give way at the major roundabout ……….
and I will walk past the kids who are smoking crafty joints in uninsured cars
outside the fast-food drive-ins.
Manners and conscience are both missing in Britain these days!
- January 28, 2009 at 14:16
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Anna Raccoon Darling! Would it be possible to an avatar of a young platinum
Marlene Dietrich avatar? You and Chatelaine have set me off …………
Wagner is playing stridently in the background …………….. Small volumes of
Nietzche and Goethe are peeking at me from the book-shelf ………..
- January 28, 2009 at 14:11
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Hellooooooooooo!
Lovely to read your story here Anna Raccoon. And lovely to have oneself
back here.
Chatelaine – Your Maman should just keep chatting into some tapes for us to
write up into a film one day …….
My friend’s grandmother won’t let us write her memoirs up until she pops
off ……….. You wouldn’t believe some of things she got up into Holland during
WWII.
I was amazed at what one little lady was able to do with a Post Office, a
telephone exchange and a wagon filled with straw! So many ordinary people did
so many extraordinary things ……… and went unsung and without commendation
……….
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January 28, 2009 at 13:44
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January 28, 2009 at 13:42
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January 28, 2009 at 13:41
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The English in the equivalent part of the country (say rural Kent) would
get along just fine thankyouverymuch.
Yes, the scrotes in sink estates
would be rioting because the Stella deliveries were delayed, but so would the
monkeys in the Banilieus.
All France is not like Provence, all England is
not like Millwall.
- January 28, 2009 at 12:37
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The other day I told Maman about your situation. She paused for a while and
then said: I think if we would ever have a war again, it would be much more
difficult for people nowadays than for us back in the 40′s.
Btw I had friends staying over that same night and I provoked Maman to tell
some stories about WWII. I knew the stories, of course. She’s never been
afraid, would follow my father anywhere in any way. They’re stories about
bombs, guns, canons, food shortage, American, Canadian and Australian soldier
whom they befriended. And every now and then in between she would say: Yes, we
had a lot of fun. And she was serious. Bless her.
- January 28, 2009 at 12:30
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And, yes, applause for Coco
- January 28, 2009 at 12:28
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You’re back!!!!!
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