Plus - a lie in!

Banner seen on the wall of a school:

'Arriving at school at 9:05 means you are ten minutes late. That's fifty minutes a week, or over three hours a month, or over thirty hours in a school year. Believe it or not, that is a week out of school!'

Now, I'm no child psychologist, but I was, for several years early in my career, a child; and I strongly suspect that the lesson that banner is supposed to convey, and the lesson any right-thinking child is actually taking away from it, are two very different things...

Jesus' diary, if the icons I saw of him recently are anything like accurate.

Monday
Standing calf raises, 5 sets of 20 reps.
Incline sit-ups - train heavy, but not to failure.
Dead lifts - 4 sets of 10 reps

Tuesday
Cardio, plus maybe some work on abs and triceps.
35 widths of River Jordan.
Minister to sick

Wednesday
Dead lifts - 5 sets of 5 reps.
Hack squats - 5 sets of 15 reps - get Peter to spot me?
Cure leper.

Thursday
Half marathon to Tarsus.
Upper chest work.

Friday
Sabbath.
Power-walk to mount. Give sermon.
Ab crunches

Dark mysteries in the countryside of two nations...

Two urgent questions.

What have the mussels done to upset the people of Normandy?

And what are the people of Kent doing that they don't want the horses to see?

Adding a welcome touch of drama to asking for profiteroles.

Now, before anyone starts, I know that what I'm about to say is purely a reflection of the English language, not the French; that it only strikes me this way because we chose to use the words we ripped off from Germanic languages for everyday, and the words we ripped off from Romance languages for Sunday best. I know that. But it doesn't stop me enjoying the fact that the French are never just sorry, but desolated; that things don't just bother them, they derange them; that while English speakers are merely advised in fire warnings to keep calm, the French are told to guard their sang-froid; and, my favourite new one from this trip, that they are not asked in a note on a restaurant menu to order their pudding at the start of their meal, but to demand their dessert at the debut of their repast.