It's a dog's life

I was swanning around the lake today, in Cologny to be exact. I've mentioned it many times, it's the area that you'd have to have more than a couple of million to be able to live there. They say it's good to be prepared, so when I win the lottery, I think I'll buy this place! Actually I think it's an art gallery but no doubt it was a private house at some time.




















This is typical of the houses in Cologny - well hidden, stunning views and nestling in lots of greenery. There is a lot of agricultural land between it and the city so in only a matter of minutes you can escape the traffic and be in the countryside.




















I remember this strange statue from last year, when Mark and I were being shown around the area by the relocation man. He must have somehow mistaken us for multi-millionaires! Well, I'm not sure how to describe this thing except it looks like part man, part machine and part bird (it has a beak) and it might be about to fall off it's rollerskates!

















You should know that the Genevois loves their dogs (as status symbols) as much as the French. So I shouldn't have been surprised to find a shop in Cologny catering to every doggie need! Isn't that yellow jacket the business?!




















Then I spotted the dog collars, and I have to say they were amazing!





















It's a shame the shop was closed and I could only take photos through the window because I would have loved to go in and take a photo of the rows of collars. I've enhanced this, you might just be able to see, but they had so many different designs! They had lovely leads, toys, pictures, bowls of all shapes and descriptions and many more things I couldn't quite get a good look at.


















And no connection with dogs (I hope!) here I am again at the hairdressers, having popped in on the way home. I don't think I've ever looked so ridiculous in my life! It took well over half an hour to ask her to 'do the same but just slightly lighter here'. She flicked through magazines and it seemed like highlights were a thing of the past. This isn't the first time I've felt like I'm speaking to a brick wall when talking with hairdressers and the language barrier is not the reason. I realised early on that lack of intelligence is a greater barrier. Part of the problem is that unlike the UK where training seems fairly consistent, here they employ all sorts of strange techniques for hacking away at the hair. In the UK (and everywhere else I've been, come to think of it) they section the hair and work around it, then they make sure the sections are matching and check the two sides of the head to see that it's symmetrical, blow dry, then check again and adjust if necessary. Here they have no routine at all and a couple of times left part of the hair uncut until I asked them to do it! I felt like a very difficult customer today but I'm quite fed up of wearing their incompetence on my head! I look really miserable in this sketch but it was nothing to how I felt! I told the hairdresser I'd never seen this technique before - that's cotton wool on my head - and she said proudly, 'oh yes, it comes from Paris'!