Huttonian survived the onslaught by Aliens and with only one rocket going astray on to the roof of the fierce neighbours : "Je retournerai votre ballon si vous me donnez notre fusée" I said to the boy next door returning his ball.He was less obligung about the rocket which is still in his roof gutter. I have no images of the rockets being fired or stomped as my role was retrieving them well beyond the target at the furthest reaches of our asteroid.

The most popular game was beating the Pinata bear to make it disgorge or more accurately anally evacuate its belly full of sweets. It proved too tough for the beating to have the desired effect and in the end the right string in its nether parts had to be pulled to allow the candies to escape.

The theme being Aliens, Katy had been forbidden by her big brother from appearing as a Princess, or Snow White-even an alien Sleeping Beauty was off limits. Several melt downs later she agreed to come as an alienne but dumped her attennae at an early stage
Much of the proceedings was inside in the pitch dark lit only by a Mac playing planetary music and the occasional sparkler. And the noise level of 8 year olds:

Incroyable

Labels: Aliens, birthday parties, France

  ¶ 9:02 AM (0) comments

 
WE May have liftoff

What is the most challenging thing Huttonian has ever been asked to face? Negotiating with terrorists who seized a British Airways plane full of school chidren in Jordan in 1970? A doddle. Being shot up in Radfan by revolting* tribesmen-piece of cake. Confronting the Soviet Ambassador at the UN? Enjoyable. Being towered over by the Laird discussing 140 new houses in Knowe's Close on the H and P community council. Routine

Helping to organise a birthday party for a gang of 8 year olds?

Now that is challenging for you

I think the Treasure hunt in the deep bush (Eldest daughter's garden)is under control but I am not quite sure where all the cryptic clues have been hidden and if they are in the right order. I am doubtful about the durability of the Stomp rocket firing mechanism after assaults by 8 boys and the tolerance of the fearsome neighbours about to come under more missile attacks than southern Lebanon. The theme is aliens so if the French immigration officials raid us there may be some awkward questions to answer " From Mars,Monsieur? And the purpose of your visit?

Huttonian is the official photographer.

Watch thus space

If I am spared

*in a political sense

( The image illustrates an outcome we wish to avoid)

Labels: Aliens, birthday parties, France

  ¶ 11:01 AM (0) comments

 
Uniquely Prix?


The notice in Prix Unique stated " Penzez aux Piles" The recently arrived Brit whispered to his wife " Just what I have been doing!( Scratch, scratch) They have a Pharmacy Section?"

She looked blank for a moment.

"I don't think a couple of AAAs are going to help"

(If you are amongst the cognescenti of Formula One a pun involving Prix and Grand might not elude you with regard to the image. He may have been called worse)

Labels: France, Hot water bottles, Prix Unique

  ¶ 10:06 AM (1) comments

 

Carrefour Les Braves

Shopping for le fete d'anniversaire. Not as easy as Sir Morrisons-the labels are in French for Goodness Sake. Creme d'Anglaise is custard. That's fairly obvious. Viande de Cheval; pass even if they are old hacks exported from Berwickshire via Ber Wick on Tweed. Le Scotch-no, not le whisky ecossais but sticky tape. I did get a bit lost with searching for heavy duty version-Le Scotch de Canard rang no bells with the helpful monolingual staff 'dans store'

"Espece d'idiot" said the Wife "its Duct not Duck"

Not much help as she did not know the French for Duct

"Can I help you?" asked the back of a T-shirt belonging to a belle assistante. It/she couldn't

"Duct" is difficult to mime

We found some in the end; so now we can fasten up the Jet packs for Sunday's party

The search for suitable aliens goes on

One image is the store in Dubai. No horse meat I suspect

The other is a discriminating shopper selecting a cool hot water bottle-no oxymoron intended. As a French nobleman once said unflatteringly of an acquaintance

" Il a une femme,deux maitresses seulement et trois bouteilles chaudes"

Labels: Carrefours, Duct Tape, France

  ¶ 12:19 PM (0) comments

 
Encore La France

The blog is off to France for the eldest grandchild's 8th birthday-the theme this year for his party being Aliens (Space borne kind not Turkish guest workers) which is a change from earlier this year :Pirates, when Huttonian felt obliged, against many better judgments to make an appearance as Captain Hook-not a success with impressionable (and strangely tearful) small girls and the middle granddaughter, whose birthday it was, suggested an immediate change of costume. See here This time I will avoid face paint, antennae, bulbous eyes or other props. I'll confine myself on advice on the firing of the pump rockets and the dispatching of little green plastic men into space (our luggage is full of them) but hopefully not outwith the boundaries of the garden; the neighbours have a rather uncertain sense of humour and I doubt if they have been brought up to appreciate Le Docteur Qui

Labels: Aliens, birthday parties, France, Little Green men

  ¶ 11:16 AM (0) comments

  Paradise Postponed

We should now be whizzing down the A7,M6, M5 but alas car trouble-wrong sort of fuel in tank apparently and it is going to be a bit of a cliff hanger if we are to make an overnight reservation in Somerset by 10 pm before the door is slammed in our faces. So it might be a case of driving on through the night to get our Ferry from Plymouth and then six hours on the heaving vessel-no HSS Stena this one-followed by a midnight flit across Bretagne with only Monsieur Tom Tom to guide us.

Why didn't we go to St Andrews again this year?

Or Eyemouth?

Labels: France, Summer hols

  ¶ 9:38 AM (0) comments

 

This is Eurostar en route to Paris. The lady from Wimbledon is vainly asking for a pot of real tea and has settled for that other Home Counties standby, the Gin and Tonic. The train is tres en retard as 'the train in front has a problem' apparently. But after a bit of bumping and boring we barge past and are, in the end, only un peu en retard=slightly late running as National Express would insist for anything under 90 minutes late. Then there is the queue at Le Guichet to surmount-5 Japanese travelling together going to 5 different destinations and have neither French nor English between them-the Guichet Clerk is not put out-proceeds in her sweet slow way, rattling on in fluent French (naturellement) and sends them all off to Versailles which closed two hours ago. Mal chance! Then the Hell of Chatalet Les Halles-Line A has temporally been mislaid and finally, very finally, the haven of St Germain en Laye. Le Nouveaux Huttonian est arrive

One tip for National Express-model your 'customer announcements' on Eurostar, Short and to the point. And make them bilingual. When in France Eurostar uses French first, then heavily accented English. How about Scotch and English? For full Eurostar effect the Scotch announcements should be made by a Cockney

with a very bad cold

Labels: France

  ¶ 8:32 AM (0) comments

  La Defense (de cracher?)

"Excuser moi-ce train est bon pour La Defense?" asked Huttonian anxiously having got hopelessly lost in Gare du Nord where le sport national is to confuse all Anglo Saxons by )(a) hiding the ticket offices for le RER and b) hiding le RER itself. And then ensuring that to get to "B Direction Robinson"" involves a very long walk to an ill directed Quai not made easy by dragging a woobly wheeled suitcase up and down non functioning escalators.

The recipient of my enquiry having looked me up and down supercilliously and then waited until the doors had closed behind me thus ensuring I was likely to be trapped on the wrong train put down his paper (too late I noticed it was the Times) spoke at last

"Actually Old Boy. It is!

Good guess!

What"

Prat Anglais

And then I had to do this on the French Blogspot

Labels: France

  ¶ 6:39 PM (2) comments