To clean or not to clean your number plates. Plus book 4 now out.

July 14. 

Today is a special day. France's national day? Yes. 

Publication day for my latest book? Also yes. 

I had actually intended to have book three in my series celebrating my French-Australian life out to you a couple of weeks ago, but ... life ... including a little run in with the police and a very expensive breakdown. 

The flashing lights and siren were clearly meant for my husband, Alex, as his was the only car on the road way out west in our very large state. Ah, I do a lot of kilometres each week for work, it was inevitable that at some point an incident would befall me, he surmised, as he put on his indicator and pulled off the road, remaining in the car as the policeman did the same before sauntering over to do a slow round of inspection.

"Your lights, sir."

Alex complied. All were working.

"Your indicators, sir."

Again, he complied with no issue.

"Do you know why I've pulled you over?"

"No," he answered politely.

"Could you please get out of the car and follow me."

Alex did as he was told, stopping at the back of the car alongside the policeman and waiting.

"Your number plates, sir, are dirty."

"Oh, I do a lot of kilometres on the dusty, open road, but I do have some water. I'll wipe them down."

"That will not be sufficient. I'd like you to head to the nearest town and replace them, plus I will need to issue you with a fine."

If the nearly five-hundred-dollar fine were not enough, they also came with three demerit points. Tough to swallow when a quick check revealed that driving whilst using the telephone - a whole lot more dangerous, I would have thought - was considered a less severe offence with a commensurately smaller fine.

A scant few days later, after an early start and a six-hundred-kilometre day-with very clean number plates-Alex lost power to the car just after nightfall, still 120 km from home. His luck was in, though, as he could capture a weak telephone signal and had just enough battery power to make a few phone calls. I was the first. 

"I'll come and get you," I said, "and we can leave your car until it is daylight."

"No. It'll be stripped bare by then. I'll see if I can get a tow truck."

The first three companies that he tried were not keen and declined Alex's request for help. The fourth agreed. 

Five hours later than expected, and another five-hundred dollars out of pocket, he arrived home.

The morals of the stories? 

You've understood the first already - go out now and check your number plates. The second? Always carry a spare tin of sardines. It will come in handy when you are cold and hungry waiting roadside in the dark - although a blanket, torch and water would have been useful too. 

And, with my community service announcement over, I wish you a happy July 14. 

If you'd like to check out my newest book, Love, fear and a return to France, here is a link, with my most sincere thanks.

À bientôt.

Books 1- 3 below.

The links should take you to where you need to go, wherever you are in the world, to make a purchase.

Merci mille fois

But you are in France, Madame: One family, three children, five bags and the promise of adventure living in the French Alps

Weaving a French Life: An Australian story

With bare feet and sandy toes: Growing up in Australia in the 1960s & 70s

My default position...

... is to expect nothing in return. Self-preservation dictates this. I used to send out letters and emails, and leave phone messages and suggested contact times, and then happily await responses. Not so, these days. I am inordinately joyous if an editor replies with a negative, as long as it is still positive.

My most scathing reply to a submitted article was along the lines of ‘we only accept well-researched pieces, not short, bitty ones’. OK, no beating around the bush, even though it did take me a couple of prods to get those few words. Honestly, was the submitted article worthy of such ‘ouch’? Probably. At least, I got something back. But, I’d still be curious to work out how one can be on the job pile one day and dish out such delicacies the next. What is the timeframe for editors and publishers to go from being generous, humble and supportive to condescending and indifferent?

I’d come across this attitude previously, in circles other than publishing. My medical specialists’ secretaries have always been particularly good at giving me the brush off, defending at all costs their partner-by-association superiors and unaware of how much more important kindness and compassion are following unsettling consultations.  

Living in France, I learnt that it was easier to start something expecting a ‘no’. Before attempting to do anything administrative, I’d mentally rehearse all that needed to be said; prepare and sort all the documentation that I figured would need presenting; take a few extra bits of paper for good luck; expect a long wait to be seen and subsequent parking fine; and practice simultaneously clenching and rolling my tongue between my teeth in an attempt to stop the tears that would start to spurt when being told that what I had come to do would not be possible.  

Fortunately, there are still some kind-hearted, generous people out there: Amongst others…established authors (#patricialsands) who started following me on Goodreads when there was not much to follow; fellow Instagrammers and bloggers (#eatlivtravwrite) who chose to buy and review my book despite being sent postboxes full of free ones to review each week; interviewers (#thebookpodcast) who feature known, prize-winning authors…and me; store owners (#frenchcargo, #languagebookcentre) who not only stock my book but promote it enthusiastically; blogger/authors (French word-a-day and An Accidental blog) who listed my book on their sites and did not ask for anything in return and everyone who has purchased our family story 'But you are in France, Madame'. To all of you, 'thank-you'.

...and, if you haven't already purchased my ebook and would like to do so, it would be lovely if you used the link in Mardi Michels article, as it is part of the Amazon affiliate program...just a small way of showing your (and my) appreciation - and it costs you no more. If you would prefer a print copy, then another affiliate link is to be found in Kristin Espinasse's French word-a-day blog. Again, a purchase here would be so very much appreciated by us both. Merci beaucoup.