Persona Non Grata


This article is an opinion piece and might be contrary to your own opinions. If that is a trigger for you, then wait for the next article where I will probably talk about walking the dog and show photos from the village. If you’re fine with that, however, then read on.

In many ways, this will be a mere annoyance. If I really want, I can have the famous PCR test and have a probe inserted into my nostrils and then receive a code that I can scan into my phone, to show everyone how safe I am. I can then go to the pub, and even have dinner in a restaurant. Not the most pleasant of medical procedures, but it will afford me a certain liberty and normality. But I also have a healthy disrespect for authority. Sorry Mummy!

For the moment, these nasal insertions have been free, or rather covered by the Social Security and Health Authority contributions that come off my salary each month. Also, it has allowed people to be tested for Covid and know if they are infected or not. As the President said on the 12th of July “Cet automne, les fameux tests PCR seront rendus payants, sauf prescription médicale, et ceci afin d’encourager la vaccination plutôt que la multiplication des tests.” This Autumn, the infamous PCR tests will be charged, except with a medical prescription, to encourage people to vaccinate instead of having multiple tests.

I get the logic behind this. They will bill each test 50€ to the Social Security, and they want to reduce costs and get people vaccinated. I, unlike others, have nothing against vaccines, except for Astra Zeneca and Johnson and Johnson, where being a Catholic I can’t support something that used aborted foetuses to make them. However, I am against the obligation to vaccinate, and wish it could remain a choice. In France all Medical staff will be required to be vaccinated by law and those who wish to exercise their right to refuse a medical intervention, will be declared inapt to work, and will be eventually fired.

It’s so easy to get on your soapbox and talk about all kinds of codswallop. Words like dystopian society spring to mind when I read governmental policy. Another would be coercion. The authorities can be there as a guide, but as soon as that guidance translates into a more interventionist policy, maybe the authorities have overridden that guidance role. When governments get that far, are they serving the population that voted them in, or are they serving themselves? I’m not just accusing Macron and his government. The finger could be pointed just as well to Boris… then there was the evil villain Trump, followed by the rather weak Biden. I am worried about this becoming a global political trend.

The next statement will be the most controversial in this article. I believe most of humanity has the same goal, which is the desire to look after his family in the best manner possible. I am a father, living in France, and I bet that a father living in Afghanistan just wants the same thing for his children that I do. IE that they will be happy and live in a world of peace.

Wow, that wasn’t as difficult as I thought it might be. For the more liberal of you, you could insert community, etc for family. I’m a moderate conservative. I like to think that just because I don’t fully espouse your views; I don’t hate you. This can be quite a radical notion in a society that likes to pit people against each other. Read a newspaper and you will see that through its reporting of events that it is trying to divide more than unite. This is impervious to the political leaning of the publication. I think it’s even worse on the Internet. There are so many videos from the very conservative that are there telling how to destroy a liberal through argument. How awful is that? Why should I seek to destroy my opponent? Should I not try to convince him of my position respecting him as a human being, just like me, with dreams and hopes for the future?

Hello Dear Reader


It has been a quiet three weeks over here in France.  I went to see my wife’s family in Brittany, and strangely enough I could go out, take some pretty photographs, and not get any grief from my mother-in-law.  Yes, miracles can happen. 

England and football had definitely come home just before buggering off to Rome.  Those three poor lads who missed penalties and got so much flack for it.  Disgusting.  I listened to the match on the radio in the car on the way home, but got home before the penalties, which would have been too horrible to listen to.  At least we got further than France, and beat Germany.  Small mercies, people, small mercies!  

My eejit son got back with his ex-girlfriend, but apparently with “different rules,” and “different bases,” and asked me to accept everything wholeheartedly.  Very optimistic, that boy!  There are more red flags in that relationship than in the last Congress of the Chinese Communist Party… And to quote the genius that is Forrest Gump, “and that is all I have to say about that…”  I’ve been forbidden from saying anything else. It happens, I suppose…

They have jabbed once me.  I think there is definitely a conspiracy about the COVID vaccinations.  Why don’t the injections hurt like hell, the way they used to when I was a child???  What is this utter madness?  As of the 21st July, the “passe sanitaire” has been imposed, firstly on theme parks, cinemas, and libraries, where more than 50 people can gather.  As of the 1st August, you cannot go to restaurants, cafés, shopping centres, and basically anywhere where everyday French life happens.  The President sounds like a scratched record, vaccinnez vous, vaccinnez vous!  Strangely enough, people are starting to feel a little iffy about the whole situation.

There are now huge demonstrations against this “passe sanitaire” and people are comparing it to the “Ausweis” that people had to carry about during the Occupation.  Has Macron committed political suicide?  Many are hoping so.  I’m for people being vaccinated but want it to remain a choice.  Aren’t we free to refuse a medical act?  Have Liberté, Égalité, et Fraternité, just disappeared from France?  Many think so.

A friend had his 26th birthday, so the weekend before, I took him up to Nantes to buy him his present.  As we are still allowed to frequent cafés etc, we enjoyed ourselves and only had two teas, and one visit to the pub.  Such restraint!  I was amazed.  I could have taken him to at least another two places.  He dared to tell as we were ordering tea number two, that he was no longer hungry!  I quipped, you don’t need to be hungry to eat this…  These youngsters!

I am still allowed to wander the streets of France, and might keep doing it and my goal, this week, is to take some photos of the Voyage à Nantes Art festival!  I might not be able to sit down and have a pint, but I’ll be a brave boy about it! Yipeeeeee!

The Olympus Trip 35


After the success of my review of the Fuji Film X100F, I am excited to introduce you to another fantastic camera. If you’re not a tech-savvy person, don’t worry, this camera is a breeze to use. In fact, even my seven-year-old daughter had no trouble operating it! Let’s delve into the world of film photography with the Olympus Trip 35.

The Olympus Trip, as the name suggests, was designed for travel photography and gained popularity in the 1960s and 1970s (production ceased in 1988). This point-and-shoot camera comes without any gimmicks, and while this may not be a style or fashion blog, the Olympus Trip 35 is a beautiful object that exudes undeniable sex appeal. Trust me; you’ll have people complimenting you on how gorgeous your camera looks. To add to its allure, I replaced the original wrist strap with a more comfortable and chunky version from Amazon.

One of the camera’s limitations is that you can’t change lenses. However, the 40mm Zuiko F 2.8 lens covers most situations you’ll encounter during your photographic journey and delivers stunning results, especially with modern emulsions! Just take a look at the X100F photos, and it becomes evident. While the Olympus Trip lacks the modern conveniences of a DSLR or mirrorless camera, it compensates with the absence of battery worries as it relies on a selenium cell for metering. You will need to get film for it, and it takes ISO (or ASA) 25 to 400, which works well for your travel needs.

Loading film is incredibly simple, even a seven-year-old can do it, just like my daughter did with ease. Once the film is loaded, you’re all set to explore the world through your lens. Let me explain how to focus the camera. The Olympus Trip uses zone focusing. As you turn the lens, you’ll see markings for different distances, such as a face, a couple, a group of people, and a mountain for infinity and beyond. It’s photography, not a film about Ants or Seven Samurai, so rest assured it’s easy to grasp.

Regarding shutter speeds, the camera offers two options: 1/200th of a second and 1/40th. The camera will automatically choose the appropriate shutter speed. With a 40mm lens, camera shake shouldn’t be a concern at 1/40th of a second. This versatility allows you to capture images at F22 with 1/200th of a second to F2.8 at 1/40th of a second. Keep an eye on the F-stop dial in the viewfinder for a seamless shooting experience. Set the camera to A (automatic) when not using a flash. If there’s insufficient light, a little red flag will pop up in the viewfinder, indicating that the camera shutter won’t fire. Rest assured; it’s idiot-proof!

To make it easier to understand how to load film, her is a helpful video from YouTube.

So, get out there and start taking some amazing photos! Embark on street photography adventures and capture the essence of your trips. The Olympus Trip 35 is here to be your trusty companion. Have fun and feel free to share your photos with the world! Mine are from a memorable trip to Portugal and the Canary Islands in 2016, shot on Ilford HP5 Plus film. Make of them what you will, and let the camera take you on a delightful photographic journey!

It pays to be a winner


At school I wasn’t a winner.  Not really.  There was one time at prep school when I won the First form prize, which was a book about birds.  I still have it! I once entered a competition to win a first day cover of stamps featuring various fish native to British rivers, and won the first day cover as well as postcards of the stamps.  I wasn’t a great sportsman, something which seems to have followed me through my life and therefore didn’t have the chance to win a cap for my school.  Whilst I used to wear green for a living, I would often hear the phrase, “It pays to be a winner gentleman,” being yelled by certain junior NCO’s.  I was of course never that winner, so would have to repeat the exercise with all the other losers.

You get used to being a loser.  In certain respects, it’s great because you don’t have to bother yourself with that maternal ambition that was imposed on you.  It lowers your expectations and you get used to accepting your fate in life.   You ramble along, as you may have seen and read Dear Reader, I am a rambler.  I was fine with that.

Then of course I moved to France.  Try being English in France.  Then again maybe don’t.  It’s worse than being French in the UK.  They lost WW2, yet celebrate VE Day every 8th May.  Oh sweet Caroline, I mean irony!  But that’s fine.  It’s in their mind-set of being the inheritors of the Glory of France.  Then the bastards went and won the World Cup in 1998.  They are ghastly when victorious, and I remember saying to myself, they’re going to talk about this for 20 years…  20 years came and went, and they only went and won the bloody thing a second time!!!

Whenever they beat us at rugby, I am inundated with mentions of how great they are, and yet when we beat them, I am allowed to remain silent and hide in my office!  This losing does have a tendency to teach you about humility.

Now I will talk about the B word, yes, Brexit.  As I may have let slip, I am a remainer, and therefore “lost” the vote in 2016.  Since that time, my life here in France has been in suspended animation, suspended rather than animated.  My future was dependant on a “deal”.  Then Boris came along.  I was going to be buggered one more time, yet despite the odds, we “won” an agreement that would allow me to stay here.  But knowing the French, nothing was certain.  That uncertainty doesn’t help a guy’s mental health and Brexit has taken it’s toll on me.  But less of the grumbling. 

On the 22nd June, 2021, I receive an email from the prefecture telling me to come and see them on the 9th July, with this mail, my old carte de séjour, my residency card, which allowed me to remain in France, and will allow me to remain further.  I arrived here in France on the 9th of July 1994, to start the rest of my life.  I got that mail, read it, and had tears welling up.  For the first time in 5 years, I was turning into a winner.

That week I entered a competition on Instagram.  One of those things where you win a basket full of samples from a shop, and you have to like the post, post the names of two people on the comments, and they will announce the winner in a story.  This was for a shop that sold CBD products and I thought why the hell not.   Well when the story came out announcing the winner you’ll never guess who won.  Yes me!!!  So for a perpetual loser like me, this was amazing.  I was high on the positive vibes.  Things are calmer at home and at work, and I have less pain in my arthritic knee.  Maybe it does pay to be a winner after all. 

I am not a fan of Shadenfreude, except when France is the cause of it.  In the Euro 2020 competition, happening in 2021 because of Covid, no winners there really, France was knocked out of the tournament by Switzerland. I haven’t said a word about it at work.  Wouldn’t be cricket after all.  Oh and we beat Sri Lanka in the Cricket too!  On Tuesday night there was the fateful match, between Germany and England, and I don’t want to hear anything about two world wars and on world cup!!  Even though…. We beat them, for this first time in a tournament in the knock out stages since 1966 when we beat them in the world cup…  The English side of me was very happy, and yet I have been gracious in victory and not mentioned it at work to my French colleagues despite the desperate urge to do so.  Even if I were to mention it, it would be wasted on them and wouldn’t be cricket!  Damn you gracious VICTORY!

Hello everyone


Hello everyone, and by that I mean people who actually read this blog and seem to enjoy it. Here I will not be facetious or try to be funny, but in the contrary be deadly serious. Well, maybe not deadly, but definitely a little serious.

I have a question for you. Why do you follow this blog? It can’t be for my great looks, charm and obvious charisma! I’ve been looking at my stats and have found the article I wrote about the X100f to be very popular. And I have to admit to being surprised. It was an article that was too long according to my mother, so that has to be true. It may annoy the shit out of me, be she is often right about these things, but I see people coming back to it again and again.

Is that kind of thing interesting to you? Is it the camera, is it the way it makes feel when using it? What about using different kit? I’m talking about the helios lens, or maybe the 16-35mm lens. Would you like to hear more about that too?

These are sincere questions and I’m interested in what you might have to say. Are there any other subjects you would like me to talk about?

Yeah, I know, it’s all soul searching, but if I can share things that interest you, then it might be a more pleasurable experience reading me as I ramble on. The idea after all is to write something that will interest you, interest me, something that I have a minimum of knowledge of, maybe have a laugh together, etc.

So, give a shout in the comments and let’s try and make this, whatever it is, a two way, sharing, experience that can benefit us both.

As I said, this is an article, hors du temps, and is trying to strike up a conversation. Don’t be scared, firstly because this is the Internet and people can, and often do say what they think in a most forthright manner, and secondly, I don’t bite. Thanks for stopping by…

PS your weekly article will be out on Friday 2nd of July at 17h French time. It pays to be a winner

The Natural History Museum, Nantes


The following story is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  It is all lies.  Who was it that said; never let the truth get in the way of a good story?  As with most good stories, this one is about a group of friends that met in a pub.  One was an English Irishman, or Irish Englishman, I haven’t quite made up my mind yet, a Welshman, who we shall call Dafydd, a Frenchman we shall call Thibaut, and a half Spannish, half Colombian girl, who lookd like a super model and who tried to convince me to take up Keto.  Later we were joined by two Albanian girls, their brother, and the dog, who was a boy and not a girl, as my Welsh friend Dafydd thought.  Throw into this melting pot, a French Artist, that we shall call Lucy, anything to protect the innocent, and we have all the characters!

My mate Dafydd, had been trying to get me down to the pub for a week, and for some reason, and against all my wishes, I couldn’t.  However, the evening before Father’s Day was the perfect opportunity.  Son was off with friends having a party and somebody’s house, and I don’t even want to know any of the gory details.  But, as the big softie that I am, and because it was raining like a cow having a pee, as they say in French, who had obviously been having a great time drinking beer, hadn’t found the toilets, and just as he was arriving in the barn needed to pee and couldn’t hold on, and just let go, I took them in the car and dropped them off.  No cats and dogs here matey!    My daughter had been very persistent in asking her mother to go to the cinema to see a Japanese manga cartoon, and my wife had obviously been softer than I had, and had agreed to take her.  Offer it up to the Holy Souls Darling.  Kate loved it which is a good thing I suppose. 

I was on my own and decided to take up my friend’s offer of meeting down the infamous pub in Nantes, where my nose just seems to lead me every time.   I was suitably smart casual, and the beard looked better than Papa Smurf’s!  I reached the pub, said hi to everyone, bought my over priced, but never the less, wonderful pint of Guinness and sat down at my friend’s table.  Introductions were made, and the evening had started.  Dafydd was on great form, and jokes started flying, not all of which I could repeat here, in order to protect your chaste ears Dear Reader.  We discussed the origins of sheep jokes, which we all seemed to find ball breakingly funny.  Apparently, the Welsh would steal sheep along the English border to annoy the English.  The punishment for which was having your arm cut off.  The punishement for shagging them was only to be severly whipped, so the Welsh would slyly say that they only wanted to have sex with them.  Laughs, were being laughed, and being as infectious as the dreaded lurgey.  Laughing turned into Dafydd flirting outrageously with the Albanian girls and us teasing him, but gently.  He “is” our friend after all.  Apparently three minutes of heaven is better than two minutes of heaven!  All of a sudden, this young thirty something pretty girl walks up and sits with us.  To me, anyone in their thirties is young.  She was a friend of Dafydd’s.  I will call her Lucy, so as to protect the innocent. I learnt she was an artist and we started talking about her art.  She had an expo on at the Nantes natural history Museum, allying art and science.  I said I would have to go a long the next day and see it.  I don’t think she believed me.  It was one of the last days of the French curfew, so at 23h Dave came along and said we needed to finish our drinks and go home.  So, we did!  You don’t disagree with Dave!

Fast forward to the next morning.  The morning of Father’s Day.  That one day of the year, where my kids feel guilty and are nice to me for the day.  Kate came up asking which tea I wanted.  This was turning into a very agreeable morning.  Themnall of a suuden, my daughter turned into a she-devil, and started yelling that she didn’t like caramel, and stormed off into her room slamming the door.  Well that was unexpected.  It transpired that my son had been to the bakery, and had got her a little something. That something was based on caramel, and she threw the something into the bin in disgust.  My wife and son might quite have liked to have tasted this caramel thing and were equally as disgusted with Kate.  Welcome to my perfectly dysfunctional family!  However, he came up stairs with  a pain au chocolat aux amandes, which as I may have explained before, is the crack cocaine of French Patisserie, and also a favourite of mine.  You can diabetes just by looking at it!

Eventually Kate calmed down and became human again, and by the time I was ready to go out, she was fine.  I took my camera, my daughter, and the car, ventured into Nantes and even found a parking space.  Now my daughter is 11 and has been known to be a little “difficult” with the kind of places we visit, but everything seemed good for the moment.  She enjoyed the fossils and the different kinds of rock and stones, and we both agreed that one actually looked like a willy.  Hey, it made us laugh. We saw skeletons, and the massive collection of taxidermy.  Towards the end of the visit, we arrived at the exhibit I had wanted to see the most. The young thirtysomething’s exhibition.  To say I was blown away would be putting it mildly.  Her art was amazing and can be seen in the gallery below, or you can visit it like we did at the Natural History Museum in Nantes.  I can’t sing her praises loudly enough!

We finished our day by going to my favourite place in Nantes, the John Mc Byrne Irish pub.  We came out of the car park, looked up at the sky and thought, hmmmm, it won’t be long before it rains.  I saw a flash and three seconds later heard the deafening thunder.  Strangely enough, our pace quickened slightly.  We got to the corner of the street where the pub is and the heavens opened up on us.  The umbrella, which was there to give us a false sense of security, and maybe even keep us dry, was a complete fallacy, and proved to be bloody useless, I mean unfit for purpose.  We arrived at the pub, and were soaked through.  As we looked out of the window, there was a small stream forming in the middle of the street.  You had to be there to really grasp the severity of that poor cow that needed to pee…

We eventually made our way home and finished by getting for Monday morning.  Yes those Sunday evening blues.  The photos from that eventful day, were taken on the Canon 6D Mark 2, with the Helios 44-2 analogue lens, and then I switched to the Canon 16-35 F4 lens for those super wide shots.