Social Security and Sausage

Today, Monsieur Champeyrol accompanied me to my appointment at the local CAF office (CAF being short for Caisse d'Allocations Familiales, which roughly translates to "Family Support Fund"). As a young person without an official salary - my EU money being considered a "grant" for scrounging reasons - I am entitled to French benefits. The process was suprisingly painless, and after a ten-minute discussion with a friendly lady I was awarded the princely sum of 120 euros per month to help with accommodation costs. Champey will take this money and deduct it from my rent, which was already scandalously low. Resultat!

This evening, Minda and I were invited down for dinner. We were served boudin, an rich and fatty blood sausage which was essentially haggis in taste and texture, albeit a bit more... faecal... in appearance. Thankfully, this tasted far better than my last such encounter, and the flavour was accentuated by the traditional accompaniment of sautéed apple chunks. Dessert was yoghurt topped with Champeyrol's home-made conserves - today, red grape or tomato (surprisingly sweet!).

The French word for jam is confiture, and our jolly landlord thinks the English translation is "comfortable." The logic seems to be that they sound similar so why not - although when "Eat my comfortable, Englishman!" is bellowed down the table, I am not quite sure of the correct response.

The photo today is of the local benefits office, if only to prove that public buildings look equally bland the world over - and that I'm still enjoying blazing sunshine in mid-October.