Thursday, 26 June 2014

Katharine R: new French neologisms


What the French now mean when they say ‘bugger’

And other alarming neologisms
10 May 2014
FRANCE-CULTURE-LAROUSSE-FILES
The French for tête-à-tête is one-to-one now, according to a new survey of English invaders by Alexandre des Isnards. Actually, only half of the 400 neologisms that M. Isnards has collected for his Dictionnaire du Nouveau Français (Allary Editions) are English, though that’s a high enough level.
It seems to me that French and English people are in common cause here, for it is in business-speak that the English neologisms most easily put down their nasty little suckers — an unweeded garden in both languages. Bullet-points now seem as desirable to French business people as to English. Verbs are spawned simply by sticking –er on the end of English words: forwarder, photoshoper (with a single p), rebooter. Se skyper, with a show of syntactic flair, is a reflexive verb. To English eyes, French usage can seem surreal. Bugger is one of the new words. J’ai buggé means, I think, ‘I have a computer virus’.

M. Isnards lives and breathes neologisms. He long ago witnessed French people adopting acronyms (OMG, WTF) for exclamations from a foreign tongue. Sometimes, he observes, French gets its own back by mangling the words it adopts. So la loose means something a loser experiences, and never mind the extra ‘o’. He was quick to pick up on a new expression that a young woman in the office used all the time: C’est mar. He hadn’t heard it before, he told the magazine Tranfuge, but it became clear that it meant ça suffit or basta. (Some people use basta in English, but to my ears it sounds like saying ciao — inauthentic.)
After four years of shovelling neologisms into his book, M. Isnards chooses a strange one as his favourite. It is plussoyer. The origin is the internet, where one is often invited to click little boxes, often, no doubt, to activate a herd of Trojan horses and set them galloping into one’s address book, and you are soon buggé. A parallel in English is to like by clicking the Facebook icon; in speech one has to use oral quotation marks or signify them with one’s fingers: ‘I “liked” your restaurant on the website.’ In French now, for ‘I agree’, ‘I second that’, you simply say je plussoie.

Editor:  I think I could get blindsided by some of these.  But I like se skyper.  

Peggy R: Garden group visit to the Bird sanctuary

Not a mosquito dared bare its fangs in the Pont de Gau bird sanctuary as the courageous core of the garden club tramped through -- on the short route -- enjoying the beautiful water birds and their young families all along the way.


Okay, mosquitos don't have fangs....but none attacked us with any part of their anatomies, and the reason for this was clear: it was TOO HOT.

However, that did not stop our group from walking, sighting, and taking pictures of the birds. And trying to identify them.



(What was that fluffy white bird with the golden crest and a nestful of babies?
My guess is that it was a cattle egret in all the glory of its mating plumage....anyone else want to hazard an identification? Unfortunately I do not have a photo of this one because it was only well-visible through binoculars and my camera just doesn't zoom.)

Maggie, Jayna, Elisabeth and Anne.  Not pictured:  Peggy R
At the end of our tour, we had a well-deserved rest in a deliciously cool small restaurant nearby, sipping cold "gris de gris" over lunch. And after lunch we did the tourist thing, buying local apricots and sea salt. A wonderful day, all in all -- and nary a mosquito bite to show for it!

Photo credits:  Peggy R

Maggie sent the following photos:

Elisabeth, Peggy R, Anne, Maggie and Jayna






 

Friday, 20 June 2014

Katharine C: General Assembly 2014

Jessica welcomed a group of AWG members to MLK on Tuesday, June 17 for our annual general assembly and business meeting.

After an impressive year of fundraising, representatives were on hand from Coupe de Pouce (a local after-school program for children and their families, for whose after-school theatre group AWG has donated)
Mariannick with the Representative from Coupe de Pouce

and from Resto Bébés - (this is the fifth year AWG has donated supplies, including baby bottles). 

Sylvia, baby bottles and the Resto Bébés team
Jessica's brief overview of the year included our prodigious fundraising - both the Greeting Card project, and AWG's cookbook Season, now into its second printing.   Mariannick's financial report included the cost of Season, whose production was funded 100% by AWG - all proceeds from the sale of Season are being donated to 3 organisations (the Jeevika Trust, Restos Bébés, and a FAWCO initiative);  all of the funds  are destined to help womens' and childrens' nutritional needs.   

Newly-elected members of our Executive Board:  Robin C (Secretary); Jessica (Pr.); Cerese (VP);  Mariannick (Tr)
Maquita gave a presentation about the work of Cancer Support France (CSF), which supports Anglophone patients (and their family and friends) suffering from cancer in the Languedoc.

Activity Chairs were introduced individually:  Sue Rou (on Jan C's behalf) spoke of plans for cultural outings in the coming program year, Jill spoke of Childrens' Activities, Anne S did sterling work in representing several AWG activities - namely the Garden Group, Cook and Eat, Writers' Group and Book Club.  Mariannick represented the Walking group and Cerese the Life Issues and the Bible activity.  Katharine J spoke of FOAL (Friends of the Anglophone Library) and Maggie, our FAWCO representative, thanked AWG members for their continued support of FAWCO initiatives. 
Mary-Catherine announced the results of the election (of the club's 71 active members, 24 votes were counted, realizing a quorum).  The new officers were officially welcomed to the Board and introduced:    Jessica (2nd year as President);  Cerese (VP, internal relations);  Trista (not pictured), (VP, external relations);  Robin Joye C (Secretary);  Mariannick (2nd year as Treasurer).

Jane was thanked for her diligence over several years in producing our newsletter, the Flamingo Forum, the responsibility for which is now assumed by Denise.  Greeting card packets were presented to all activity chairs in appreciation for all their hard work throughout the year.

And so to lunch ........ several AWG members had brought their signal culinary offerings and there followed lunch and a happy social session. 

Jane: The Charming Sicilians


"What do you remember most about Sicily?" I asked a friend before leaving for the island in May, "The wild flowers", came the reply.  It's true.  In May, Sicily is covered in wild flowers but what I will remember most are the Sicilian people.

Monreale Cathedral

Temple at Selinunute

Flower Festival at Noto
They could not have been more charming.  The tourist is the honoured guest.  I spent ten days in Sicily from 13 to 22 May, travelling almost all the way round it with a friend by car.   Take the time when we walked into a non-descript eaterie and received VIP treatment.  The chef spent time explaining all his pastas and personally selected our two meals.  Once consumed, a coffee and two cakes appeared "courtesy of the house". 
View from Taormina

A few days later, we found ourselves unable to find our B&B which was located in a road in the middle of a town closed off to traffic.  I asked the driver of another car for directions, he told me to get back into my car and follow him in his car (with his family).    We drove around town until we arrived at our road.  In Modica, we walked into a spanking new pizzeria.  On sitting down, a young Sicilian couple sitting in the corner (there were no other punters) said in English "The pizzas here are delicious."  They were from Modica but working in Dublin.  They wanted us to enjoy our meal.  I asked the waiter if a bottle of wine that was on display could be served by the glass.  He said not but two minutes later, having returned to the bar, he said they would after all serve it by the glass.  These little kind gestures happened all the time in Sicily.  When I came home to my hamlet, I commented to my French neighbour how I found it hard to believe that the Sicilians are known to be in the Mafia.  "The Mafia are very charming people", came the reply!

Jane: Love Locks


LOVE LOCKS

I read this week that the Pont des Arts bridge in Paris lost a length of its railing because too many 'love locks' have been attached to it!  The locks are padlocks usually with something written on them.   The weight of the locks caused the railing to drop into the Seine.  Thank goodness, there was no passing vessel at the time.  

I hadn't come across these padlocks until I went to Sicily in May.  A few kilometres from Palermo is the small town (with a very famous and stunning cathedral) called Monreale.  There's a spot where you get beautiful views of the city of Palermo and people have attached padlocks to the railings.

I hope the fad doesn't catch on in London.  The pedestrian Millennium bridge that goes from St Paul's Cathedral over to the Tate Modern was initially known as the 'Wobbly Bridge' when it was opened, for the self-explanatory reason.  The engineers soon sorted out the problem but extra weight here and there could change the dynamics.....

Jane: in case you're ever tempted to forget .......


A CLEVER CALCULATION!

1)  Have a calculator to hand
2)  Input your shoe size
3)  Multiply by 5
4)  Add 50
5)  Multiply the total by 20
6)  Add 1014 (next year add 1015, and so on, as the years pass)
7)  Subtract the year of your birth

You are now left with four figures - the first two give your shoe size; the last two give your age.

Sunday, 15 June 2014

Katharine: in celebration of Father's Day 2014

 Editor:  the following article is written by two writers who are also fathers.

Happy Father's Day

How Has Parenthood Informed Your Writing Life?

By JAMES PARKER and MOHSIN HAMIDJUNE 10, 2014
Each week in Bookends, two writers take on questions about the world of books. This week, James Parker and Mohsin Hamid discuss how fatherhood has influenced their work.
By James Parker
Quite possibly I’m a narrower, nastier and less morally responsible writer now than I was the day before my son was born.
Well, this is a deep one — a complex pancake, a snorter, as Sergeant Pluck in Flann O’Brien’s “The Third Policeman” might classify it. Clearly the proper thing would be to declare without hesitation that fatherhood has enlarged my sympathies and grounded my libido, and thereby in the natural way — organically — expanded and improved my writing. But I don’t know. Quite possibly I’m a narrower, nastier and less morally responsible writer now than I was the day before my son was born. I certainly hope so.
Photo
James Parker Credit Illustration by R. Kikuo Johnson We’ll get to all that in a minute, however. First let me recall some of the literary revelations and disclosures that attended the early years of bedtime reading-aloud. In that situation — book, bed, child — the air itself gives its verdict on the text, weighing and testing the words as they become sound. I learned very quickly, for example, the value of repetition — its mysterious penetration, its steady increase of power. Byron Barton’s “Trucks” was a liturgy to us: “On the road — here come the trucks. They come through tunnels — they go over the bridge.” Those ageless granitic words, night after night, unforgettably. Later I learned that there are a couple of really slow stretches in “The Hobbit”; that Richard Adams, the author of “Watership Down,” was very good at fight scenes but not that good at dialogue; that books by Roald Dahl have a tremendous amount of shouting in them; that “White Fang” was not as exciting as I remembered; that Robert Service and Alfred Noyes are great poets, thumpingly great and unjustly neglected; that Joan Aiken uses some high-level syntax; that the death of Little Blackie in “True Grit” is overwhelming; and that Rudyard Kipling’s habit, in “Just So Stories,” of addressing his reader as “Best Beloved” is something of a deal breaker for a 21st-century child.
These things I learned by reading books aloud, into the pricked and critical ear of my son, and they are writing lessons too. Keep it crisp; tell a good story; don’t muck about; don’t be afraid to say the same thing twice, if it’s important; respect the reader; have some loyalty to your characters; and when you feel the urge to get descriptive, sit on it. (Much of this comes under Elmore Leonard’s 10th rule of writing: “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.”) They strike me as solid tips for narrative fiction, even though I’ve never published any. My own little stock-in-trade — the 1,200-word pop-cultural think piece — did not feature largely, for some reason, in our evening sessions.
But to return to my earlier point, I think it has to be faced: There’s something in writing, in being a writer, that is inimical to family life. Or vice versa. P. G. Wodehouse made the point with his usual helium levity and grace by dedicating “The Heart of a Goof” to “my daughter Leonora, without whose never-failing sympathy and encouragement this book would have been finished in half the time.” A priest friend of mine pointed out to me just today that all the great works of mysticism were written by celibates: “If they’d had kids, they’d have been too tired to pray.” The writer is a muddy-eyed solitary, immersed in ungraspable moods. The defect, the brain splinter that makes her a writer is anti-domestic. She waits, yearning, for the moment when the imagination goes rogue and love and duty go out the window. Not easy to live with. And children need, require, deserve, must have attention. So what’s the answer? If you happen to find out, do me a favor and let me know.

James Parker is a contributing editor at The Atlantic and has written for Slate, The Boston Globe and Arthur magazine. He was a staff writer at The Boston Phoenix and in 2008 won a Deems Taylor Award for music criticism from the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers.
◆ ◆ ◆
By Mohsin Hamid
The banging on my door with which my daughter announces her return from school marks the end of my writing day.
It wasn’t until I became a father that I could imagine giving up being a writer. Just to be clear, I haven’t given up writing, and I have no plans to do so. But until my daughter, Dina, was born, writing stood at the apex of my value system. I believed that to it, above all, I must be true. No longer. I have a daughter, and I have a son, Vali, and somehow they have barged their way into the center of my moral universe. I may or may not be a good father, but I recognize good-father-ness is the standard I’m most likely to measure my worth in this life by.
Photo
Mohsin Hamid Credit Illustration by R. Kikuo Johnson In very practical ways, parenthood is at odds with writing. I, never an efficient novelist (averaging seven years a book), have become even less efficient. The hug with which my infant son greets me in the morning, koala-like in its intensity, provokes the gentlest but most lingering of procrastinations. The banging on my door with which my daughter announces her return from school marks, more often than not, the end of my writing day. Nine to 1: That’s all I can count on. Four hours, if I’m lucky.
But there’s a saying in Pakistan: “Children bring their own sustenance.” In other words, a child can snuggle into extra space you didn’t know existed. If there seemed to be no money for a child, spending gets reprioritized. If there seemed to be no time for a child, schedules get reorganized.
And so, it turns out, parenthood and writing can wind up being unexpectedly complementary. Here are two recent real-life interactions with my daughter, and the lessons they taught me.
No. 1: Dina comes home from school.
Dina: Open the door.
Mohsin: Who is it?
Dina: Dina Hamid.
She enters.
Dina: Who are you?
Mohsin: What do you mean? I’m your father.
Dina: No, I’m a little fish. Are you a jellyfish?
Mohsin: Um, yes. Bloobooboob, bloobooboob. . . .
He begins to ooze and flutter, jellyfish-like, as he pursues her about the room.
(His daughter has just reminded him that storytelling is participatory.)
No. 2: Dina specifies her nightly bedtime-story-on-demand.
Dina: Tonight I want you to tell me a story about . . . a story.
Mohsin: A story about . . . a story?
Dina: Yes.
Mohsin: There was a story. And it was very lonely. Because there was no one to hear it. So it went for a walk in the forest. . . .
(His daughter has just reminded him that all fiction is metafiction, that humans are born with the instinct to experiment with form.)
Parenthood has granted me permission as a writer. Before becoming a father, I tended to write about characters whose backgrounds were like mine or like those of people I knew, people I could imagine having something in common with. But as a parent, I recognize I have something in common with everyone. Everyone is someone’s child. So I have given myself permission to write more widely, to range more freely in my selection of characters, to imagine being people I previously steered clear of imagining, entering them via our shared someone’s-child-ness.
In this way, parenthood has expanded my sense of being human. It has made me more porous. To be a parent is to be utterly dependent on the mercy of strangers, to depend on humanity to do your children no grievous harm. Which is good training for writers. Because we rely on readers. We put our words out into the world, and hope our words find a connection. We know we can’t count on it. Rejection letters will come, bad reviews if we’re lucky, disappointing nights at prize ceremonies if we’re luckier still.
But to be a parent is to know that even one passionate reader can sometimes be enough. One person who devours our stories, and smiles, and perhaps says in a sleepy voice: “Tell it to me again. Tell it to me again.”
Mohsin Hamid is the author of three novels: “Moth Smoke,” a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway Award; “The Reluctant Fundamentalist,” a New York Times best seller that was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize and adapted for film; and, most recently, “How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia.”

Katharine C: the end of the Fifth Republic in France?

France's political system is crumbling. What's coming next looks scary

Marine Le Pen has the centre-right in her sights. And Hollande has no clue and little hope
7 June 2014
Sucidal-France3_SE
Last week President François Hollande, following his party’s humiliation in the European parliamentary elections (his Socialists won roughly half as many seats as the National Front), decided to cheer himself up. He left Paris and travelled to Clairefontaine to mingle with France’s World Cup football squad.
‘If you do win the World Cup final on 13 July,’ he told the millionaire players (most of whom avoid Hollande’s taxes by being paid outside France), ‘you will deserve a triumphant welcome. But we will not be able to give you the reception you will deserve, because the Champs-Elysées is already booked for the military parade of 14 July!’
Ed Miliband could hardly have put it more lamely. Having uttered his words of feeble encouragement, the least effective national leader the Fifth Republic has endured bumbled back to the scenes of economic devastation and ministerial panic that mark France’s political landscape today.
If the British recovery from the recession has been slow, in France it is nonexistent. The latest figures show that the Socialist government’s policies — almost exact replicas of the ‘two Eds’ (Miliband and Balls) approach the Labour party wants to implement in Britain — are a complete failure: economic growth in the first two years of Hollande’s administration has been 0.8 per cent, whereas the British economy has grown five times faster in the same period. The latest figures show current growth at zero per cent, and the forecast for the rest of the year is not much better.
France’s employment figures are even worse. When Hollande was elected in May 2012 on an anti-austerity ticket (‘-Another way is possible,’ he promised), he said he’d cut unemployment within 18 months. Instead, it has risen by 15 per cent to a scandalous 3.3 million. He said he’d help mend the finances by slapping a 75 per cent tax on the richest. He got his way, eventually, but figures last week show that French tax receipts are collapsing. Footballers and Gerard Depardieu are not the only ones moving abroad and declaring taxes elsewhere. Hollande is demonstrating anew that high taxes redistribute people, rather than wealth. One might think that this could be the ideal moment for France’s conservative opposition, the UMP, to lay the foundations for a right-wing victory in the presidential elections of 2017. Unfortunately, the UMP is in an even more distressed state than the government. It has no leader, it has no programme and it lacks even an agreed means of selecting its next party president. Mired in scandal and shorn of purpose, the UMP could be on the verge of breaking up.
The implosion of Hollande’s main opposition is worth studying, because it shows how France’s politics is in an even worse shape than its economy. The UMP was founded in 2002 as a means of uniting the ‘republican right’ (that is, the Gaullist RPR and the centre-right UDF) against the growing popularity of the extreme-right Front National, led by Jean-Marie Le Pen. The UMP remained in government for the next ten years until the election of François Hollande. Following that setback, the party held a ballot to elect its president and this election was won by a Sarkozy supporter, Jean-François Copé.

A savage internal battle then broke out between Mr Copé and former prime minister François Fillon, since, according to Mr Fillon, Mr Copé had rigged the ballot that won him the leadership. This struggle only ended last week when Copé, the party president and chief bruiser, was forced to announce his resignation. This had become inevitable since he had been named in a police investigation into illegal overspending during President Sarkozy’s failed re-election campaign of 2012.
Some £9 million of illicit funds had been concealed by the use of forged invoices. Questioned on national television last week, Mr Copé’s right-hand man — who had to sign all the receipts — burst into tears.
Mr Fillon is a very different personality to Mr Copé. His wife is Welsh, his brother is married to his wife’s sister (vive l’entente cordiale) and he displays every mark of the gentleman. Furthermore, despite having spent five years as Nicolas Sarkozy’s prime minister, he is seen to be honest. But sadly this may not be the fastest means of reaching the top in the Fifth Republic. And notwithstanding the fact that he has finally shafted his agile rival, Mr Fillon still faces serious competition for the leadership of the French right.
First there is Alain Juppé, also a former prime minister. Juppé is a veteran Gaullist, one of the long-standing ‘barons’ of French politics. But ten years ago, his political career suffered something of a setback when he received a 14-month suspended prison sentence for misuse of public money. On being convicted, Mr Juppé resigned as mayor of Bordeaux, but his ever-forgiving voters re-elected him two years later. In his defence, it was said at the time that he had simply been carrying the can for Jacques Chirac’s corrupt system of financing his own political career.
The other candidate hoping to save France is of course the former president Nicolas Sarkozy. Despite his constant denials, Mr Sarkozy is still very much a player in the political game. Some might think that with his one-time campaign manager under police investigation for illegal use of electoral funds, Mr Sarkozy, too, might be under a bit of a cloud. But his supporters scoff at the idea. In France, it is the presidential campaign managers who do the dirty work, and whatever it is they do, it should never be traceable to their principals. A recent opinion poll showed that, for two thirds of voters, the 2017 candidature of Nicolas Sarkozy is both ‘undesirable’ and ‘probable’.
Currently, Mr Sarkozy and his close associates are under investigation in no fewer than five other criminal matters, the most serious of which concerns the selling or trafficking of public office, contracts or honours. In this case, it is believed to centre around allegations of either threatening or bribing judges, including members of France’s Supreme Court. As part of their inquiries, the investigating authorities have tapped Mr Sarkozy’s telephones and grilled his senior staff members for weeks on end.
Even that may not be Sarkozy’s biggest problem. In March, he discovered to his horror that one of his closest associates, Patrick Buisson, had been secretly recording their private meetings during his five years in the Elysée. Buisson may have hours of recorded conversations, covering everything from base political manoeuvring to state secrets. Meanwhile, Sarko’s allies are doing everything they can to block the possibility that either Mr Fillon or Mr Juppé could become the UMP’s presidential candidate in 2017.
For French voters looking for signs that a more effective government might be on the horizon, the disintegration of the UMP must be deeply depressing. It leaves Marine Le Pen’s National Front as the only successful political formation currently in good order. Her victory in the European parliamentary elections, when her party quadrupled its score in comparison with the 2009 European elections and topped the poll with 25 per cent of the vote, was very much a personal triumph. Under her leadership, the party has changed tack, downplaying the racism that characterised her father’s era and emphasising policies that are designed to attract traditional left-wing voters.
It is an error to regard Marine Le Pen’s party as being right-wing — and somehow repugnant to left-wing voters. Le Pen rails against globalisation and free trade, against ‘American tax-dodging multinationals’ and the French employers’ association. She wants a high minimum wage, tariff barriers, and a preference in employment, housing and social benefits for French citizens over European or international immigrants. Were such policies ever introduced, France would cut its links with the developed world and drift off into some imaginary national paradise of its own invention.
But that is not how matters are viewed by people trapped in the depths of a recession with no apparent way out. This is why the National Front picked up an astonishing 43 per cent of the working-class vote, against the Socialist government’s figure of 6 per cent. Marine Le Pen has said that she will now make the dissolution of the UMP her top priority, and if she keeps up her momentum she will make it to the final round of the 2017 French presidential election.
All this has implications far beyond the borders of France. The 24 MEPs (one third of the French contingent) that Le Pen is sending to Brussels are mandated to leave both the euro and the European Union. Her triumph would dismantle the Franco–German axis, the historical motor of the EU. The German chancellor has already said that her chief concern for the future of Europe is the state of France. And little wonder: France is at a crossroads. If it cannot emerge from its economic doldrums, France will join the dysfunctional Club Med countries — leaving Germany alone to hold the EU together. This would be a task even beyond Frau Merkel’s abilities.
France is no stranger to such crises. The Fifth Republic was founded in 1958 by Charles de Gaulle when France was threatened with a military coup and was on the verge of civil war over the decolonisation of Algeria. It is a measure of the current desperate state of French politics — a failed government, a corrupt and squabbling opposition and a rampant National Front — that the public debate now includes a growing discussion of a new constitution, the abolition of an executive presidency and the forced revival of parliamentary democracy. The abolition, in other words, of the Fifth Republic itself.
This article first appeared in the print edition of The Spectator magazine, dated

Saturday, 7 June 2014

Jessica: Montpellier Reine 2014


The group who ran this year included Dennelle, Kim, Mary-Catherine, Robyn, Maquita,
Orla, Chris and Jessica, accompanied by their offspring.  

Congratulations to everyone - and look forward to doing it again next year!

Sunday, 1 June 2014

Katharine C: AWG celebrates its anniversary

 Photo credits:  Jessica

A lively group gathered at the 3B restaurant for a wonderful meal and fellowship.  We were thrilled that our founder Dora Taylor was present, and that Jessica's little boy also was there.   This is the resto where Laurent M is the Executive Chef, and we all had a wonderful time.  Mariannick was taking members' dues for next year, and also selling Season and our greeting cards. 

Mary-Cat and Maggie

Bernadette and Mireille



Maquita and Celeste, Kathy B standing,

Dawn, Sylvia and Maquita
Susan Rey, Dora and Patricia

Kathy, Marie, Maggie, Robyn on LHS, Louise, Susan and Dora on RHS

Gretchen and Katharine on the RHS

Dawn, Sylvia, Maquita, Cerese & Mariannick
Jessica announced that this was a farewell appearance by Patricia, who will no longer divide her time between Montpellier and CA;  Patricia, we'll miss your regular appearances.  Bonne chance!
Dawn, Sylvia, Cerese and Mariannick on the RHS

Thank you to AWG for its generous financial part-sponsorship.