Oh what neglect!

My dear friends and global family, so to speak....,
I have been meaning to write on this here site for ages and ages. And every time I sat down to start, I was given a new pair of roller skates to try out (see previous blog for de-coding).

I recently went to London: major enterprise for one as weak in the legs and lungs as myself -although just to see me you wouldn't know it, so perky and cheerful do I look!-. I had to visit the French Consulate in South Kensington to collect my New Improved passport. It is one of those machine-readable gismos which are supposed to prove to the immigration officers that I am not a terrorist! But in order to get one of these, you have to be seen to be who you are...if that makes sense...So I met a lovely young French civil servant who did all that needed to be done. And then waited for a few hours -which I occupied at the Museum of Natural History across the road, and don't you feel sorry for dinosaurs? I do!-, before collecting my pride and joy...a brand new passport! I kept the old one for the love of the visas that were in it and the stamps I collected when I was still a great traveler; latest in date were Latvia (a trip which I had almost forgotten about...although, thinking about it again many bizarre events should have made memorable) and India (a trip to Mount Abu, to the head quarters of the Brahma Kumari World's Spiritual University, which I will NEVER forget). Well: Have Passport! Will travel!

An interesting fact about the French Civil Service: it is HUGE. In France, the Civil service covers a multitude of professions: Paris transport workers, doctors, teachers, as well as all the obvious administrative posts in town halls and in the public domain (embassies, police blah blah blah I am not a teacher any more so I don't have to know everything....) BUT there is a point to that opening. In order to join the rank of the Civil Servants, for most positions which do not depend on vocational qualifications, a person need to sit a "concours" (concours are rank related exam, where only a certain number of those with the best grades are "admitted" to a particular job/training, etc). The beauty of Concours is that they are anonymous, and so do not discriminate on the grounds of ethnicity of name. If your name is vaguely foreign, especially North African, Muslim sounding, an ordinary application for a job may well find its way to the bottom of the pile, even more so in areas where the Front National has strong support. So the way forward for clever "Magrébins" is to sit a "Concours" where they will be assessed only on their respective merit. Thus it is that my lovely lady at the French Consulate was clearly from a North African background, and that my sister-in law, in Paris has a very good job with the RATP, having been refused numerous other jobs previously in spite of being clearly a very bright (and pleasant, and well-educated) spark! Well, this ironic "justice" in the system makes my heart sing!
On the way back in the train, there was an encounter which I will tell you about later as I now need to go and do a bit of work, make a few phone calls and prepare for my singing to-night...
Meanwhile, may you feel loved and may you have jolly, entertaining thoughts!

Jocelyne