I have just contemplated taking a picture of a neatly folded blue towel with a nicely-embossed Floris soap (Syringa) sitting on it, that has been resting  in the downstairs bathroom in case the daily visiting nurse wanted to wash his/her hands. Following Vik's example from 2011, I have been trying to take a photograph for every day of the year, and during this grey rainy January, with Paul in hospital for a minor operation for a few days, and recuperating with his bandaged foot up for many days after, it has been quite a challenge. Unable to ski, walk, nor until the last week, quiz, skittle or visit, I have wondered which rain-soaked part of the garden to take each day. Once I was reduced to taking a lovely cauliflower that I had bought on Miramont market on a freezing Monday and now, nearly, to capturing a bar of soap for posterity.

The no washing thing has bothered me a bit. Each day the nurse would dash in, take from a box that we had to pick up from the Pharmacie a syringe and jab it into Paul's abdomen, say something cheery and dash off. I had to not imagine them coming from dressing post-operative wounds, from infectious children, from .. oh well you get my squeamish drift. At least I knew P was clean, so the next patient should have few worries.
The hospital wards were very clean. Patients have a single or double room with a scrubbed bathroom. All is cleaned twice a day. Nurses, orderlies, Doctors all look steam-cleaned. But downstairs the public loo leaves a lot to be desired. Soap, for a start. And although clean in the mornings it was more like the British image of a French loo by the afternoon. As I came out I eyed the suggestion box in the foyer, wondered if my French was sufficient to make clear the point that most hospital infections are brought in by visitors, and how such criticism from a Brittanique would be viewed,as infection rates in France are way below those in the UK.

 And the hospital care was excellent. Staffing levels seem high and everyone was kind and helpful. Our experience of several hospitals, large ones in Bordeaux and little local ones, while P's Dad was with us and needing much care, left us with a confidence that all staff, from cleaner to Intern respected and empathised with the elderly. Not sure about the top bods - (do they empathise with anyone, or are we all just interesting cases to them?)- but then they don't do any hands-on caring so it can't be judged.
The French system, a mixture of state funding and private insurance seems to work well. And all emergency, life endangering conditions are treated and medicated 100% by state funding, so no-one unable to afford the top-up insurance need fear for their family's health. A lot of employers will fund their employees' insurance too.

So, today's photograph. Suggestions please, in the suggestion box.

Reveillon

On the last day of the year, Paul braves the supermarket. All we needed was milk and some mushrooms, but half of Aquitaine needed oysters, langoustines, crab, champagne or Cremant and Galette du Rois for their Reveillon celebrations. He queues for 25 minutes in the 10 or less (ha! Pet Hate, misuse of Less) line, amusing himself with the altercations between those who arrive with fewer than 10 things and those waiting with 12+ items. The latter never leave the line, but allow the former to join in front of them, so Paul finds himself further back in the queue.

The Galette du Rois is a rather yummy frangipane-filled pastry containing a 'bean' which should be a china King, shepherd, Babe etc, which should be eaten warily for fear of breaking a tooth or swallowing the thing, for which, the reward, a golden cardboard crown, is not much recompense. On Christmas Eve we made sure the 5-year-old got it. But it was a religion-free Galette and being into religion at the moment she was unimpressed by both the china bag of rice and the crown. We didn't get another one yesterday - just the milk, as our menu for Reveillon was sorted and unlike our Christmas feast did not include the traditional French food of shellfish.

Later we sat around the dying fire, silly string dangling from elbows and earrings, champagne, unwanted at
one am, fizzing ignored in half-full glasses, when Chris started.
"Alright then, what resolutions has everyone made?" - One of his innocent questions dropped into a group with the hope that someone reveals something inadvertently. His face bland, eyes innocently quizzical. But it is too late to get us stirred up. We have eaten too much drunk too much and two of us can't hear what people are saying and another two being 'strangers at the feast' are not likely to reveal all to the rest of us. The usual 'eat less drink less take more exercise' are avoided but none of us can summon up much wit. I am impressed by Pauline resolving to say 'No' more firmly but nicely. Put on the spot, I say
"Keep up with my blog better"
This is actually a good way to divert Chris from trying to make mischief, as he wants information on blogs, how to start one, who can read them and what they are for.

So here I am, resolute on January 1st 2013. The usual 'eat less drink less walk more' is zizzing in my skull, along with a headache, but there are at least 2 half-full bottles of wine to not waste, it keeps pouring with rain and Chris helped make 2 enormous bowls of delicious tiramisu and half of one of them is sitting in the fridge.
Happy New 2013, Robins, look after yourselves. xx