Who Owned the Suitcase? (and other stories)

Here are my glamorous Welsh grandparents, who travelled with yesterday's little suitcase.They took this case to Canada on a liner, as my grandma refused all her life to fly, and my grandpa then took it on numerous North American flights while the family lived there.My grandpa was 'très sportif', like Son 2 - here he is, acting as ref I think, in the distant stripey top.

My grandma was très jolie, and wore her clothes so well, like my sister.
I will let the other photos of my grandma speak for themselves, and tell you about the doings of their descendants, namely Son 1 and Son 2. I think they would be proud of their great grandsons!
Son 1 went off yesterday morning to the town youth club (maison des jeunes et de la culture), which had tempted him with a morning's 'Cuisine du Monde'. He made a lot of pumpkin-related recipes, which was a thrifty choice as they were also carving pumpkin lanterns yesterday! The starter was pumpkin soup, the main course was a tabouleh containing pumpkin among other things (he liked it) and the desert was muffins. He had a good time and they all enjoyed their well-earned lunch!

In the afternoon we went down to the podologist. Son 1 is overly flexible (an advantage when he does gym), but it's caused his ankles to splay a bit as he gets taller and could cause knock-knees and arthritis if not corrected now. This is one of the truly superb things about the French health system - the doctor spotted this and wrote a prescription, the podologist saw him the day I phoned for an appointment, and the required insoles were ready a week later. I paid up-front but will get refunded by the national insurance system and Ben's work-provided mutual insurance.

The down-side of the system was shown on Monday, though, when we waited for over two hours (thank goodness for Nintendo DS games consoles) for a consultation with the local doctor. He is excellent but terribly over-worked, as he is currently alone in a two-doctor practice. It transpires that doctors in general practice are payed much less than hospital doctors (in fact, they are not paid much more than Ben), so that all over France there are vacancies and patients are waiting patiently (boy, can the French wait patiently!) for over-stressed doctors working through their lunch hours.When we finally left his office (by the back door, which amused me - he was obviously snatching time where he could) we had the typical mile-long prescription sheet.

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Until a friend pointed out that we could ask the pharmacist not to provide everything on the sheet, we always ended up with far more medicine than this British mother thought we needed. This time we gave the nasal douches a miss but accepted the allergy medicine and, with some reservations, the steroids. Son 2 has been coughing for two months and I have to do something - my British negligence has gone too far. So far, so good... and it's back to school tomorrow!