I've been a bit quiet of late mainly because I am once again in the UK getting a bit of extra dosh and I felt a bit sulky about it to be honest but I've got over myself now. It's lucky that I can do it and that I have a brother who will pick me up at the airport and put me up in his spare room for the price of a couple of bars of French chocolate with raspberry bits in.
TS is at home looking after the gang, working and doing DIY on our house in my absence. I'm in two minds on this one. Half glad that I don't have to do it and half wanting to stick my oar in because I just can't bear not to be in charge. Actually I'm at least seven eighths glad that I don't have to do it and I can offer reams of advice and guidance by e-mail anyway.
To make sure I can play my part properly on my return I have been studying Extreme Makeover. Honestly that's the only reason. I don't really want to spend hours vegging out in front of the telly eating Martin's ice cream and crying buckets over all those tales of hardship while TS does all the work. I just want to do my bit. So whatever the house looks like I will jump up and down, scream and cry and shout Oh My God.
Come to think of it that will be fine either way won't it?
Just need to look up the French for bus driver move that bus and I'm sorted
Showing posts with label making money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label making money. Show all posts
Sunday, 28 September 2008
Tuesday, 29 April 2008
I was busy doing stuff
Hi remember me?
We've been home for two weeks now and I just don't know where they have gone. Obviously I have been doing stuff but what was it?
Well out of the last six days five have been spent gardening. Unfortunately only two of those on our garden. We got three days work gardening for someone else on the cheque d'emploi system. This is a way of legally doing casual work in France. The people employing you get a special cheque book to pay you with and the powers that be automatically add social security payments into the amount they pay. If you are interested there is more about the system here.
Well, when I say gardening job it was more akin to slash and burn as it involved clearing copious amounts of brambles, broom (which really is a weed here) and hawthorn from a plot that is going to be a brilliant orchard. It has a long south facing wall and it's own spring fed irrigation system. I was a trifle envious (read dark dark green) both of the plot and the fruit trees waiting in the wings. In fact I think I may be turning into a true gardener as I coveted that plot far more than the rather posh house it belonged to. The trouble was as the weather got hotter the slight slope somehow turned into a cliff face without it actually drying out all the brambles and broom and hawthornes enough to make a really good bonfire and complete the burn side of the whole operation leaving the garden clearance slightly less clear than one would hope. Just where is that Ray Mears when you need him?
Anyway back to our rather more humble Chateau La Pants where we have spent the last two days hauling horse poo, weeding and planting stuff. Oh but not enough stuff by a long chalk. We have leeks, cauliflowers, onions, tomatoes and salad leaves in the ground, peas, beans, pumpkins and squashes in our mini greenhouse thing hopefully sprouting and raspberries and currants newly planted in the orchard. On the decorative front (for we are determined to have a beautiful AND productive garden this year) we have a summer flowering jasmin, geraniums, gladioli, dahlias and crocosmia planted out with sweet peas and nastursiums in the greenhousy thing. That only leaves umpteen other things to sow in the ground or in pots and about half the garden still to clear of weeds. But we look like we have had our bit of sunshine for the week and the ground is still waterlogged.
So all in all this accounting of my time is a bit like trying to balance my cheque book. I can justify less than half of my expenditure. It's not surprising I never have any money or get through half the stuff I want to do. All I can say on both counts is, if I didn't spend it well at least I was mostly having fun probably.
Like so many of my school reports it's "must ty harder" and "could achieve so much more if only she would apply herself" and look now it's half one in the morning and I only just got round to the post I was going to do a week ago and I still have to get a good night's sleep then plant more stuff and go to the bank and do the laundry and get more potting compost and clean out the chickens and pay the house insurance, buy chicken food . . .
Oh and I'm still rubbish at French and then there's the paperwork to sort and I need to check out what all of you are up to.
Frazzled moi?
We've been home for two weeks now and I just don't know where they have gone. Obviously I have been doing stuff but what was it?
Well out of the last six days five have been spent gardening. Unfortunately only two of those on our garden. We got three days work gardening for someone else on the cheque d'emploi system. This is a way of legally doing casual work in France. The people employing you get a special cheque book to pay you with and the powers that be automatically add social security payments into the amount they pay. If you are interested there is more about the system here.
Well, when I say gardening job it was more akin to slash and burn as it involved clearing copious amounts of brambles, broom (which really is a weed here) and hawthorn from a plot that is going to be a brilliant orchard. It has a long south facing wall and it's own spring fed irrigation system. I was a trifle envious (read dark dark green) both of the plot and the fruit trees waiting in the wings. In fact I think I may be turning into a true gardener as I coveted that plot far more than the rather posh house it belonged to. The trouble was as the weather got hotter the slight slope somehow turned into a cliff face without it actually drying out all the brambles and broom and hawthornes enough to make a really good bonfire and complete the burn side of the whole operation leaving the garden clearance slightly less clear than one would hope. Just where is that Ray Mears when you need him?
Anyway back to our rather more humble Chateau La Pants where we have spent the last two days hauling horse poo, weeding and planting stuff. Oh but not enough stuff by a long chalk. We have leeks, cauliflowers, onions, tomatoes and salad leaves in the ground, peas, beans, pumpkins and squashes in our mini greenhouse thing hopefully sprouting and raspberries and currants newly planted in the orchard. On the decorative front (for we are determined to have a beautiful AND productive garden this year) we have a summer flowering jasmin, geraniums, gladioli, dahlias and crocosmia planted out with sweet peas and nastursiums in the greenhousy thing. That only leaves umpteen other things to sow in the ground or in pots and about half the garden still to clear of weeds. But we look like we have had our bit of sunshine for the week and the ground is still waterlogged.
So all in all this accounting of my time is a bit like trying to balance my cheque book. I can justify less than half of my expenditure. It's not surprising I never have any money or get through half the stuff I want to do. All I can say on both counts is, if I didn't spend it well at least I was mostly having fun probably.
Like so many of my school reports it's "must ty harder" and "could achieve so much more if only she would apply herself" and look now it's half one in the morning and I only just got round to the post I was going to do a week ago and I still have to get a good night's sleep then plant more stuff and go to the bank and do the laundry and get more potting compost and clean out the chickens and pay the house insurance, buy chicken food . . .
Oh and I'm still rubbish at French and then there's the paperwork to sort and I need to check out what all of you are up to.
Frazzled moi?
Monday, 4 February 2008
Still here
but nothing much is happening I'm afraid.
This week I am still at the Uni but in a different department. Working 10 while 3.30 which is very nice as far as the whole sleeping till you wake up thing goes but not much good to someone who just wants to grab all the cash she can and go home.
Some things I'm appreciating that I didn't know I had missed are
being called love by all and sundry (a Leeds/Northern habit even the men call each other love)
evesdropping on the bus
living in a "finished" house and work being finished when you finish work
and having the use of a broadband connection that really is broad. In fact I bet Us In France's connection is so fast, now we're not there, that she's in danger of being sucked in.
Some things I'm missing are
The Dinnerladies - no silly chicken antics (though I have heard a rooster) and no eggs - I had one bite of a supermarket free range egg and had to throw it away it had a really strange harsh metallic taste
birdsong - nothing much to be seen round here but magpies and while they have a good sense of humour they just can't be described as tuneful
stars - that last little walk with Sissy before we go to bed looking up at the stars and next door's Christmas lights (I wonder if he's taken them down yet).
All in all though it's not as bad as I feared just kind of dull.
This week I am still at the Uni but in a different department. Working 10 while 3.30 which is very nice as far as the whole sleeping till you wake up thing goes but not much good to someone who just wants to grab all the cash she can and go home.
Some things I'm appreciating that I didn't know I had missed are
being called love by all and sundry (a Leeds/Northern habit even the men call each other love)
evesdropping on the bus
living in a "finished" house and work being finished when you finish work
and having the use of a broadband connection that really is broad. In fact I bet Us In France's connection is so fast, now we're not there, that she's in danger of being sucked in.
Some things I'm missing are
The Dinnerladies - no silly chicken antics (though I have heard a rooster) and no eggs - I had one bite of a supermarket free range egg and had to throw it away it had a really strange harsh metallic taste
birdsong - nothing much to be seen round here but magpies and while they have a good sense of humour they just can't be described as tuneful
stars - that last little walk with Sissy before we go to bed looking up at the stars and next door's Christmas lights (I wonder if he's taken them down yet).
All in all though it's not as bad as I feared just kind of dull.
Monday, 28 January 2008
Got up, went to work . . .
We've been here a week now.
I've had four goes at the getting up, going to work, coming home, going to bed thing. The current assignment (I quite like that word makes it all sound much more like something) is for a week and a day in the cash office of the Uni taking tuition fee payments etc.
As jobs go it's not bad. I'm getting to be a dab hand with the cards and the chip and pin machine. I am a bit rubbish with the real money though. I've never had a job before that required cash handling skills. In fact I've never had a life that required them. So while my expert colleague performs like a stage magician with a deck of cards, I'm the comedy juggler. The money gets dropped on the floor, I loose track of where I was in the counting or most embarrassing of all start going 10, 20, 30 and so on when I am in fact counting £20 notes and should be going 20, 40 , 60. Thank goodness someone invented money weighing machines or I'd still be counting last week's takings.
I might get the hang of money by Friday.
Wonder what I'll be doing next week
I've had four goes at the getting up, going to work, coming home, going to bed thing. The current assignment (I quite like that word makes it all sound much more like something) is for a week and a day in the cash office of the Uni taking tuition fee payments etc.
As jobs go it's not bad. I'm getting to be a dab hand with the cards and the chip and pin machine. I am a bit rubbish with the real money though. I've never had a job before that required cash handling skills. In fact I've never had a life that required them. So while my expert colleague performs like a stage magician with a deck of cards, I'm the comedy juggler. The money gets dropped on the floor, I loose track of where I was in the counting or most embarrassing of all start going 10, 20, 30 and so on when I am in fact counting £20 notes and should be going 20, 40 , 60. Thank goodness someone invented money weighing machines or I'd still be counting last week's takings.
I might get the hang of money by Friday.
Wonder what I'll be doing next week
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Ode to Joy
We're here then after a pretty uneventful journey for us.
Not only did we make it in time for our Channel Tunnel crossing we got there ahead of schedule and went through half an hour early. Though I suppose that does keep the record of never actually getting on the crossing we've booked unbroken.
We set off about 11am and got to Leeds about midnight as we saw the city spread out before us what was on the radio? Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
Good omen or The Universe having a laugh?
Not only did we make it in time for our Channel Tunnel crossing we got there ahead of schedule and went through half an hour early. Though I suppose that does keep the record of never actually getting on the crossing we've booked unbroken.
We set off about 11am and got to Leeds about midnight as we saw the city spread out before us what was on the radio? Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
Good omen or The Universe having a laugh?
Friday, 18 January 2008
And the Winner Is . . .
Time is winging it's way on and we are making some very half hearted preparations for going back to the UK.
I have typed up my CV and sent it to half a dozen temp agencies. This has had me thinking about my career history. History as someone famous who's name I can't remember said is "one damn thing after another". My CV is just one damn job after another. So here's some of my career highlights that I couldn't fit in.
Most boring job - This is a huge field but I think I sank to an all time low as a receptionist on a reception that no one ever came into. I was so bored that I sat seeing how much I could move before the movement detector on the alarm system detected me and not just the once either.
Most Difficult Job - I don't mean to sound big headed when I say that I haven't really found many jobs difficult. Sure there have been difficult moments like telling a woman to stop e-mailing the young man she was paying to have sex with her and do some work and other such disciplinary stuff. Generally though I set the bar on my ambitions low and skipped over it. So it came as something as a surprise when I couldn't manage it at it's lowest. I had a temp job making sandwiches. The kind of sandwiches that come in plastic wedges. But hey at least I got to wear a white coat (and a hair net and wellies and rubber gloves) My role in this critical operation was to put slices of cucumber on as they whizzed past on the production line. I was crap. I just didn't have it when it came to cucumbering sandwiches and either missed them completely or had to chase them down the factory. To my eternal shame I got moved to a less demanding role.
Most Embarrassing Moment - You can decide
Walking out of a meeting room and into cupboard while everyone else was still sitting round the table.
Getting the giggles (serious ones with tears and everything)and not being able to stop while everyone else is having a really serious conversation about installing an automatic disabled toilet being a "really big job".
Having your mobile play the Laurel & Hardy tune while the CEO is talking about the company's goals for the coming year
Most Exciting Job - I live in hope
I have typed up my CV and sent it to half a dozen temp agencies. This has had me thinking about my career history. History as someone famous who's name I can't remember said is "one damn thing after another". My CV is just one damn job after another. So here's some of my career highlights that I couldn't fit in.
Most boring job - This is a huge field but I think I sank to an all time low as a receptionist on a reception that no one ever came into. I was so bored that I sat seeing how much I could move before the movement detector on the alarm system detected me and not just the once either.
Most Difficult Job - I don't mean to sound big headed when I say that I haven't really found many jobs difficult. Sure there have been difficult moments like telling a woman to stop e-mailing the young man she was paying to have sex with her and do some work and other such disciplinary stuff. Generally though I set the bar on my ambitions low and skipped over it. So it came as something as a surprise when I couldn't manage it at it's lowest. I had a temp job making sandwiches. The kind of sandwiches that come in plastic wedges. But hey at least I got to wear a white coat (and a hair net and wellies and rubber gloves) My role in this critical operation was to put slices of cucumber on as they whizzed past on the production line. I was crap. I just didn't have it when it came to cucumbering sandwiches and either missed them completely or had to chase them down the factory. To my eternal shame I got moved to a less demanding role.
Most Embarrassing Moment - You can decide
Walking out of a meeting room and into cupboard while everyone else was still sitting round the table.
Getting the giggles (serious ones with tears and everything)and not being able to stop while everyone else is having a really serious conversation about installing an automatic disabled toilet being a "really big job".
Having your mobile play the Laurel & Hardy tune while the CEO is talking about the company's goals for the coming year
Most Exciting Job - I live in hope
Monday, 14 January 2008
Neck Yer Chickens Missus
It's been a busy few days. For me at least. TS has been idling on the sofa since Saturday while I have been digging the garden, chopping wood, moving the chickens about, cooking, cleaning, virtual assisting.
Alright I knew you wouldn't believe that of him! Actually he's had a bad back due to the little comedy of errors described here . I think he may of given up on his ambition to be "The Finest Woodsman in the Whole of France" (it only works if you do the Inspector Clueso accent). He certainly can't do the hand on hip manly chest thrown out pose that goes with that claim at the moment.
So today I was poking about in the barn looking for easy bits of scrap wood to cut up when a white van pulled up and a swarthy looking chap got out. We did the obligatory bonjour handshake stuff, then he said could he take the scrap metal next to the barn. The aforementioned scrap is actually some sort of cutting thing that goes on a tractor which TS had decided a few months ago might be worth something so it has been lying there ever since. I'm sick of the sight of it and sick of telling various scrap metal people that no they can't take it but they can buy it if they like. Taking advantage of the fact that TS was incapacitated I said yes take it.
That's a good thing about here actually you can't hire skips to take rubbish away (at least not cheaply and easily) but leave just about anything in the way or scrap metal or knackered furniture, fridges, cookers at the side of the road and someone will pull up within a couple of days and ask if they can take it. If that fails the commune will send someone out to pick it up if you phone them but we've never had to yet.
The conversation then moved on to anything else we might want to get rid of but we already had a bunch of people round last week who got all the remotely saleable things out of the barn that we didn't want. The next talking point was how long we had had the house and was there a lot of work to do on it at which point the guy produced a flyer advertising his painting and decorating company and said he also did tiling.
Finally, spotting the Dinnerladies in their swanky new run he said something about chickens which I didn't get. I used my favourite phrase "je ne comprend pas" he then mimed wringing a chicken's neck.
It's tough making a living in the Limousin you clearly have to turn your hand to anything.
I told him they were for eggs only and no we wouldn't be killing them when they stopped laying as they were pets, or I might of said they were my familiars, either way he got the message. It's weird actually all the French people you speak to about your chickens want to know if you are going to eat them. Maybe it's because they know us English won't so it's a joke or maybe it's just the French obsession with eating.
Alright I knew you wouldn't believe that of him! Actually he's had a bad back due to the little comedy of errors described here . I think he may of given up on his ambition to be "The Finest Woodsman in the Whole of France" (it only works if you do the Inspector Clueso accent). He certainly can't do the hand on hip manly chest thrown out pose that goes with that claim at the moment.
So today I was poking about in the barn looking for easy bits of scrap wood to cut up when a white van pulled up and a swarthy looking chap got out. We did the obligatory bonjour handshake stuff, then he said could he take the scrap metal next to the barn. The aforementioned scrap is actually some sort of cutting thing that goes on a tractor which TS had decided a few months ago might be worth something so it has been lying there ever since. I'm sick of the sight of it and sick of telling various scrap metal people that no they can't take it but they can buy it if they like. Taking advantage of the fact that TS was incapacitated I said yes take it.
That's a good thing about here actually you can't hire skips to take rubbish away (at least not cheaply and easily) but leave just about anything in the way or scrap metal or knackered furniture, fridges, cookers at the side of the road and someone will pull up within a couple of days and ask if they can take it. If that fails the commune will send someone out to pick it up if you phone them but we've never had to yet.
The conversation then moved on to anything else we might want to get rid of but we already had a bunch of people round last week who got all the remotely saleable things out of the barn that we didn't want. The next talking point was how long we had had the house and was there a lot of work to do on it at which point the guy produced a flyer advertising his painting and decorating company and said he also did tiling.
Finally, spotting the Dinnerladies in their swanky new run he said something about chickens which I didn't get. I used my favourite phrase "je ne comprend pas" he then mimed wringing a chicken's neck.
It's tough making a living in the Limousin you clearly have to turn your hand to anything.
I told him they were for eggs only and no we wouldn't be killing them when they stopped laying as they were pets, or I might of said they were my familiars, either way he got the message. It's weird actually all the French people you speak to about your chickens want to know if you are going to eat them. Maybe it's because they know us English won't so it's a joke or maybe it's just the French obsession with eating.
Sunday, 30 December 2007
Back to Reality
That's Christmas done and dusted then.
Just New Year's Eve to go (meal at a posh restaurant with Us in France) then life returns to normal whatever that is.
For us late January will mean a trip back to the UK for a couple of months to earn some money to see us through another Summer in France unless someone over here is rash enough to give us some work. This means we really will have to get on with manuring the veg beds ready to get cracking with the garden the minute we get back and get the coppice cut for next year.
TS learnt a new skill yesterday he can now drive a tractor including picking up a bale of hay on the spike thing on the front. I'm sure the temp agencies in the UK will be duly impressed. I got to feed the pet sheep and make a cup of tea. I can't be trusted with farm machinery. These things are part of our friend Miranda's ongoing efforts to make country folk of us. Whenever we call up to see her we get dragged into some activity. Well actually we get organised and bossed into it. It's kind of an attraction of opposites we find her archetypal horsiness (think Princess Anne)amusing and she finds our Yorkshire accents and towny ways hilarious.
The Dinnerladies are going down the road to Us in France for the duration. No doubt they won't want to come back by the time they have been spoilt by Debra with pasta and cat food.
Sissy will get to use her passport which cost an arm and a leg if I can work out the logistics of getting her through the Tunnel not less than 24 hours and not more than 48 hours after a tick and tapeworm treatment duly certified by the vet and assuming her microchip is still working and all the other things that I'll decide to obsess about that could be wrong with her paperwork. In fact I am already working out what we will have to do if they decide not to let her through ie turn round and drive back here.
I'm not looking forward to the UK at all not even a little bit I'll just have to pretend it's not happening.
Just New Year's Eve to go (meal at a posh restaurant with Us in France) then life returns to normal whatever that is.
For us late January will mean a trip back to the UK for a couple of months to earn some money to see us through another Summer in France unless someone over here is rash enough to give us some work. This means we really will have to get on with manuring the veg beds ready to get cracking with the garden the minute we get back and get the coppice cut for next year.
TS learnt a new skill yesterday he can now drive a tractor including picking up a bale of hay on the spike thing on the front. I'm sure the temp agencies in the UK will be duly impressed. I got to feed the pet sheep and make a cup of tea. I can't be trusted with farm machinery. These things are part of our friend Miranda's ongoing efforts to make country folk of us. Whenever we call up to see her we get dragged into some activity. Well actually we get organised and bossed into it. It's kind of an attraction of opposites we find her archetypal horsiness (think Princess Anne)amusing and she finds our Yorkshire accents and towny ways hilarious.
The Dinnerladies are going down the road to Us in France for the duration. No doubt they won't want to come back by the time they have been spoilt by Debra with pasta and cat food.
Sissy will get to use her passport which cost an arm and a leg if I can work out the logistics of getting her through the Tunnel not less than 24 hours and not more than 48 hours after a tick and tapeworm treatment duly certified by the vet and assuming her microchip is still working and all the other things that I'll decide to obsess about that could be wrong with her paperwork. In fact I am already working out what we will have to do if they decide not to let her through ie turn round and drive back here.
I'm not looking forward to the UK at all not even a little bit I'll just have to pretend it's not happening.
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Be Careful Out There
It's the dreaded day when real life comes back to slap us about a bit.
TS is currently driving back to Leeds to flog the UK car in the UK where they prefer the steering wheel on the right hand side and do some work for money. He will be staying with my brother who rashly offered to put us up anytime and is happy to be paid in the dark chocolate with raspberry bits in.
A month to six weeks he'll be gone unless by some fluke of fate we win the lottery without buying a ticket.
So today we have both been outdoing each other with the warnings and the cautions and the general fussing.
Me
Drive carefully
Stop for rests
Don't stop for rests in Paris on your own in the middle of the night
It's not going to rain so you'll be OK but watch out for ice
Drive carefully
Have you got your ferry confirmation, passport, euros, pounds etc etc etc
Drive carefully
All the numbers you need are on the phone
Look I'm packing this in here
Look I'm writing this down for you
TS
Don't go up any ladders
Don't use the kindling except to start the fire
Bring enough wood in don't stumble about in the lean to after dark
Don't use the chain saw, drill or any other power tools
Don't walk in the woods after dark
Lock the door
Lock the shutters
Eat breakfast
So of course I shall be spending the next six weeks locked in the house eating breakfast and TS is bound to be driving towards the ferry at 50km per hour.
It's probably not worth your while popping back for a bit
TS is currently driving back to Leeds to flog the UK car in the UK where they prefer the steering wheel on the right hand side and do some work for money. He will be staying with my brother who rashly offered to put us up anytime and is happy to be paid in the dark chocolate with raspberry bits in.
A month to six weeks he'll be gone unless by some fluke of fate we win the lottery without buying a ticket.
So today we have both been outdoing each other with the warnings and the cautions and the general fussing.
Me
Drive carefully
Stop for rests
Don't stop for rests in Paris on your own in the middle of the night
It's not going to rain so you'll be OK but watch out for ice
Drive carefully
Have you got your ferry confirmation, passport, euros, pounds etc etc etc
Drive carefully
All the numbers you need are on the phone
Look I'm packing this in here
Look I'm writing this down for you
TS
Don't go up any ladders
Don't use the kindling except to start the fire
Bring enough wood in don't stumble about in the lean to after dark
Don't use the chain saw, drill or any other power tools
Don't walk in the woods after dark
Lock the door
Lock the shutters
Eat breakfast
So of course I shall be spending the next six weeks locked in the house eating breakfast and TS is bound to be driving towards the ferry at 50km per hour.
It's probably not worth your while popping back for a bit
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Now Give Me Money
Just can't hang around here all day places to go people to see I'm busy doing this and this.Yes the real world is breaking in so money has to be earnt or is that earned? No wonder I'm so useless at it I don't even know how to write it down.
Neither do I know how to put one of those you tube thingys in the blog cos I know a song about this so you'll have to put up with a link
Monday, 9 July 2007
Working for the Man
Our web site gets a surprising number of visitors. Some arrive via very strange searches “Lifestyle France The Olden Days” springs to mind as does “Mr Stripy Tomato Picture”. But generally stick one of the subjects we cover alongside Limousin France in your search and there we are amongst all the estate agents and gites.
In the past we have created web pages linked to the site as a favour for friends. Now I’m being paid real money for doing it. I’m sure my creditors will be pleased.
The problem with being paid money in France is that they like you to say you’re going to be self employed before you start but once you say you are then you have to pay social charges. Fair enough you say and so do I because I have this strange socialist streak from somewhere that says it’s right to contribute (obviously pre Thatcher’s children vintage then). Except that you can finish up paying social charges without actually getting any money in.
It does apparently even itself out in the end i.e. over a three year period but frankly we don’t have three year period money.
So I’ve taken the easy route I’m working via a portage company. This means I go find people who want me to do some work for them but the portage company bills them and pays me less their commission and my social charges.
They get a commission
I get to pay my social charges on a PAYE basis
France gets some money out of me
It’s a win win win situation.
It’s like working for a temp agency but you find your own work so no phone calls from them offering assignments doing things you’ve never done before.
“We’ve got this brain surgery job the rates really good”
“I’ve never done brain surgery”
“Oh you’ll pick it up easily and they’re really nice people”
Plus TS gets to be a kept man his lifelong dream.
In the past we have created web pages linked to the site as a favour for friends. Now I’m being paid real money for doing it. I’m sure my creditors will be pleased.
The problem with being paid money in France is that they like you to say you’re going to be self employed before you start but once you say you are then you have to pay social charges. Fair enough you say and so do I because I have this strange socialist streak from somewhere that says it’s right to contribute (obviously pre Thatcher’s children vintage then). Except that you can finish up paying social charges without actually getting any money in.
It does apparently even itself out in the end i.e. over a three year period but frankly we don’t have three year period money.
So I’ve taken the easy route I’m working via a portage company. This means I go find people who want me to do some work for them but the portage company bills them and pays me less their commission and my social charges.
They get a commission
I get to pay my social charges on a PAYE basis
France gets some money out of me
It’s a win win win situation.
It’s like working for a temp agency but you find your own work so no phone calls from them offering assignments doing things you’ve never done before.
“We’ve got this brain surgery job the rates really good”
“I’ve never done brain surgery”
“Oh you’ll pick it up easily and they’re really nice people”
Plus TS gets to be a kept man his lifelong dream.
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