The SnippEthel

Leo and I rented 'a History of Violence' by Cronenberg with Viggo Mortensen last night. Everything started well with Tom Stall living a quiet family life and working in a little American restaurant. However, about half way through, everything just went wrong, all of a sudden: Tom/Joey receives a phone call from his brother... after some minutes of bewilderment, we realised that the film had actually nothing at all to do with the graphic novel from which it was supposed to be adapted. And from that moment on, it was a totally different story. In the novel, Tom/Joey never had a brother, he only had an old ill grandma. He did not enjoy violence as a teenager contrary to what's implied in the film. The whole meaning the authors gave to the graphic novel is therefore ignored and denaturalized.
I do still wonder what is the point of adapting any book on screen and changing half of the storylines.
Don't get me wrong though, the film was quite good... it's just that it shouldn't have been called 'A History of Violence'. Maybe next time, they'll make a film about a robot going to the moon and say it was adapted from 'Great Expectations'.
Fortunately, some people do realize that keeping it as close to the book as possible is the only way to make a great film, so I'll just say: well done Peter Jackson and thank you.

Bullfight hit
n.

Action of running into the opponent's chest head first with an obvious intention to harm. Usually used in reaction to an insult made by a stupid Italian coward who cannot play football fair.
Please note that to have a better effect and prevent consequences, avoid being filmed by a dozen cameras/being watched by millions of people.

ps: note to the Maggy Peppins people : do feel free to train your bullfight hits on Bernie, but not all at the same time to prevent collateral damage.

I haven’t been updating my blog very much lately. This is due to several reasons :
- I am far too lazy, and the heat doesn’t help
- I have absolutely no inspiration whatsoever, nothing to tell. At all.
- I have been taken to a magical world where the Spanish and Brazilians cry of desperation.
- Leo is very fond of my brand new MacBook and uses it for work, so I can’t really take it from him
- My favourite hobby hasn’t left me much time lately (I love sleeping).
- Leo and I have been busy trying to find friends… we spent the afternoon in the park with a group of potential new friends, quite nice most of them although they looked a bit older…
- I’ve been concentrating my computing efforts on my new website which will host my very own photo library. If you are a friend of mine, just drop me an email and I will send you back the address and the password.
- I am very, very lazy.
- There has been an alert from the government about the heat and pollution today. It’s very hot : 32°. We have been advised not to make any physical effort and to drink all day… so I couldn’t really risk to use my fingertips, could I?

A new week is about to start which shall make history for France or… not. Fingers crossed, everything will be alright. We eliminated little Ronaldo, we eliminated fat Ronaldo, we only need to eliminate gorgeous Ronaldo. BRING IT ON !!

When we arrived at our local pub last night for a bit of atmosphere and a pint of beer, we were surprised to see quite a few Spaniards, wearing red shirts, excited and full of confidence.
What is good about Spain is that their national anthem doesn't have any lyrics... so they couldn't sing it. But they had plenty of other songs and during the game, we had to sing the Marseillaise at least five times to keep them quiet. non mais!
Anyway, after spending the second half on tiptoe because of those blxxxdy Spanish giants, the game was finally over, the French population relieved and everyone apart from the guys in red jumping around in the bar. You could see their French girlfriends trying to smile without upseting them too much...
I guess my dear French friend Romy didn't get a cuddle or a kiss from upset Spanish boyfriend last night in Streatham, London... but I'm pretty sure she was still dead happy!

In 1982, Jack Lang, minister for culture decided to declare June 21st (the longest day of the year) Music Day in France. Year after year, the celebration of music on this summer day has become bigger and bigger and many other countries have joined the party, including Germany, Belgium and Switzerland.
The concept is simple. Everyone goes out and walks around the city to hear musicians, bands & singers performing for free in the streets. You don't need to be a professional or a registered association. You have a flute, a guitar or a nice voice ? You just find yourself a cosy corner, a bar or a square and start the music.
The great event everyone was waiting for yesterday didn't start that well when a storm fell upon Lyon around 6.30... but soon, the sun was back and with it, the kebabs, ice creams and beers. Streets were crowded with families, prams, wheelchairs, groups of teenagers and elderly couples, pretty much everyone, really.
Amazing what a little bit of music can do. All of a sudden, the entire French population, usually quite grumpy, complaining and defiant became for a few hours as cool as a cucumber, often dancing to the music.
Jack Lang is one of the socialist candidates for next year's presidential election. A poll reported that the youth (18 to 25 years old) would vote for him at 67% if he was to be candidate against Nicolas Sarkozy... No wonder, the first gives you great parties (the Gay Pride taking place this Saturday is also thanks to him) and the other only talks repression...

Well, that's it from me. Have a good weekend everyone, mine is starting today. I'm off to Paris this afternoon and then London on Friday for a weekend of friends reunions, a lot of catching up, a dreaded and determinant football game and the best of all, Deena's wedding! See you next week...

It's been going on for a while... It always starts in the same way... Early afternoon, a little noise coming from the office window. Kate gets up and you can see her face making a disagreable gesture. She walks to the window, while Sarah and I exchange curious looks: what's it going to be today?
The window opens to display a little blond head chewing gum and... asking for a bank note, or two. Yes, Kate is living this delicate period: two teenage children, both quite ungrateful and greedy for cash, to the great despair of their oh-so-nice-and-weak mother.
Gilly, who's just turned thirteen knows the trick to its perfection. She usually asks for two or three euros, to eat she says (although she is supposed to eat at school, apparently). Mother Kate wouldn't let her daughter starve, would she? Guilt. Works every single time. Gilly expects her mother not to have the change, which is usually the case and ends up with ten euros, or if lucky, twenty. As soon as she gets what she came for, the little blond head disappears without 'thank you' or any other word.
That's when it gets worse... for us! Amanda is used to this and has already closed her office door when Kate returns to her desk with her now empty wallet, whispering things we prefer not to understand. By the time she is back in front of her computer screen, she is already all grumpy. She tries to get her can't-be-bothered husband on the phone but fails inevitably, gets even more grumpy and decides, for some obscure reason, to call her seventeen year old son. Christian, like many boys of his age, doesn't like:
1. to speak on the phone
2. to speak to his mother
3. to speak to any adults
4. and more generally, to speak to anyone who wears trousers above the arse.
That's the moment Kate chooses to ask Christian about his homework and if he is at school and what he is doing, etc. We don't get to hear what is said at the other end of the phone, but it seems Christian invariably answers with two simple words : 'get lost'. When she hangs up, Kate's face is unrecognizable with anger. She tries the husband again - not available, his secretary said - and gives up.
After this little interlude, she finally decides to get back to work and that's when the trouble really starts for us. She either breaks something on her desk, can't find an email she needs, has trouble with a computer programme or gets furious because she forgot how to access our... homepage. She wouldn't deal with this on her own though and shouts at us to come and help. We usually take rounds with Sarah. But Sarah's internship is ending on Friday. Friday... and then it's just going to be me and the Fury. This is going to be a long summer...

Take a crazy German-French couple in visit, a computer with a web cam and Photo Booth and you'll get this:





Have a great weekend... byyyeee

Why do I hate it so much? Yes, I admit it, I hate it when England wins at sport. It works for any sport. Athletics, rugby, tennis, football, even curling... Is it because of two whole years of intense competition, comparing France to England/Britain whenever there was a slight chance to tease Mike? How could I believe it to be some kind of patriotism when England is not competing against France? I really wanted Trinidad and Tobago to win though, even 0 -0 would have been good.
Fortunately, I was careful and prevoyant enough to call Britain at half time, for a bit of conversation with Tess, Shaz, Mike and Tim, and a little bit of teasing too, of course, because there was still time then, and you have to say the English football stars were not doing that well apart from Becks, of course. But I know what to expect in my email box tomorrow morning... oh yes! Little teasing emails from Maggy Peppins. But there is hope! Not in the French team, noooooo, I am not that blind. But I can still remember that day, back in 2002, as we were all gathered at Tim's place, early morning (thanks Korea!), a dozen English people and... me, confident and full of hope, to watch England play Brazil. I remember the bacon rolls and the excitement. I remember the delusion and despair, slowly taking place in everybody's spirits and the cruel final whistling when the disappointed English came back to earth and its sad truth. And I remember the song spontaneously coming to my head as we all realized it was the end of the World Cup for England: "ouaouh, I feel good, talala lala lala, I knew that I would..." If they had known then how happy I felt, they would have hanged me to Lock Chase tree!

My boss Amanda gave me a mission last week... to enter the lions'arena. She gave me a plane ticket to Biarritz, a few tips and said 'good luck'... First international congress, first steps to the encounter of the big names of our industry... On the tiny plane flying from Lyon, I was starting to think I would need a strategy. The least you can say is that I am not really of the PR kind. When the tiny plane landed in Biarritz, I still had no idea how I would deal with this situation.
On Tuesday morning, I arrived at the meeting point. Our Spanish partners were taking all their business partners to San Sebastian in Spain, for a day of conferences, tapas and good wine. Catching sight of the people already there from a distance, I noticed little groups of three or four people... oh dear, they all know each other! this is going to be a nightmare... Totally terrified, walking as slowly as humanly possible, I finally arrived and was surprised to see two people instantly coming to me... Michaela & Alex from Switzerland. I didn't realize then that I had found my mentors, or rather, that they had found me.
From that moment, everything went just too well to be true. Michaela & Alex created their agency more than twenty years ago. They know everyone. They know who it is essential to give your business card to. They know the ones not worth dealing with. They know the stories behind the men. They know the ones who tell the funny jokes and the ones who only speak business. They know that French guy who fantasizes about that Spanish girl. They know that woman with a terrible Italian accent who is so hilarious to hear talking.
Michaela & Alex know what the business will be made off, who is in the race and who is lost, what I need to do to impress my boss and make myself so irreplacable she will have to give me a permanent job.
But the very best thing about all this was... Bernie! Yes, Bernie was at the congress, representing Maggy Peppins. I didn't see Bernie on Tuesday, nor did I see him on Wednesday (he made his company paid an extra for him to participate to a golf tournament). When I arrived for my first meeting on Thursday, he was there, talking with somebody at the back of the entrance hall. I pretended not to see him and started looking around for my contact. But Bernie walked to me and said hello with a big smile, obviously thinking he was in a position of force, at ease in this atmosphere. But Bernie didn't know I had been hanging out with my mentors for already two days... A man suddenly arrived, greeting us. Bernie tried to proudly introduce the man who had won the golf tournament the day before... but unfortunately, I knew the man, who stayed in my hotel and already showed me beautiful photographs of his wife and kids. Bernie had missed his impression... and left me alone for the rest of the congress!
I came back last night, with a nice tan, a handful of business deals, an invitation to go skiing in Switzerland this winter... and the look on Bernie's face when he realized he had nothing to teach me.
God, this is good!

Don't look for me this week, I'm away in Biarritz until Sunday... and this is where I will be having dinner tomorrow night... Byyyeee!