Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Sitting on the Block of e-Bay.

I needed a wardrobe. Actually I've always needed a wardrobe and today was my chance. Like most folk in France we have a trailer, in the way that most English folk have a lawnmower or a toaster. There are many ways to buy period romantic furniture worthy of une filly de frill such as me. You can go to a shop. There are many antique "Brocante" emporiums which are usually exotically priced and in my view, aimed at somewhat gullible foreigners. You can check out a web site called "Viva Street" which is quite handy. There is also a more local on line service called "le Bon Coin". Oh, and there is also a very curious little cosmic galactic enterprise called e-Bay France. Now, in France, the whole idea of the auction site is quite alien. This is not the way of TRADITION. Think of a butchers shop selling rabbits. Do customers bid to beat their neighbour to the rabbit punch? NON! On eBay.fr the seller says what he's got and asks for too much and the buyer shrugs and makes a derisory offer. It's like the old days of wage negotiations when workers were allowed to ask for a wage increase. You have to be quite old to remember that. Oh dear the old red commie petticoat is hanging down a bit. So, there is a price. You offer less. There is a counter punch and you make a deal. Do I get my MBA now? And there was a wardrobe and I wanted it!

We drove to Angouleme and while my hero driver Gilles reversed the enormous trailer I descended into the gloom of an underground garage with Monsieur le seller. We checked out the wardrobe. It was suitably enormous and twiddled - it was the wooden equivalent of a whole purple pumping ecstatic overwritten paragraph. I got out some cash. Monsieur Le Seller looked sadly at me. "Madame" he began hesitantly, "I wonder if you be interested in my bed?" Given the presence of Gilles I guessed he meant something honourable. "You see, this was the bed of my parents - my birth and many other world events happened in this bed. Now - we are globalised everywhere and no one of la famille wants it. These are the last things of my heritage and when they are are gone I can let go of the past."  I wondered how best selling romantic novelists would handle the situation as I embraced the weeping Monsieur to my bosom. "Forty Euros" I said. "Forty five and done." He replied stepping back. Gilles arrived and loaded the goods.  Now come on big biz guys - that's got to be my MBA.

Speaking of the old red commie petticoat - my audiobook of "Sub Prime" is finished and FREE to my loyal blog readers (click here) and I really do thank all of you around the world who are coming back to the site everyday to share my insights into bi-lingual incomprehension. It's not me reading it. See my blog "The Drama Queen's Speech." to find out why! If you actually want to hear MY rejected over sibilant voice I'm got some audio poems that will be coming up on the blog...

Emma x
PS. If you download the audiobook, please do let me know if you liked it.

Emma thinx: Indoors I watch a lost butterfly beating in vain against a window pane. Which of us understands the most? Not me.

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