It is tough to forsake what you have loved

The longer you work on a project, the more precious it becomes—and the harder it is to let go.

I launched my blog, Cochonnetmarin.com, over ten years ago and though maintaining it was both challenging and fairly costly, it remained one my favorite project.

Blogging is therapeutic medicine. When something upsets you, instead of venting to your wife or a handful of friends, you can share your thoughts with a broader audience… On a blog. You jump on your computer and let your emotions flow.

But as I grow older (and wearier), I’ve often asked myself whether it was time to hang up my hat and walk away with my millions. After much reflection, I’ve decided to stop publishing my blog and allow myself some well-earned rest.

Like tending a bonsai tree, each post, comment, and update shaped the blog into something living—at times unruly, at others soft, but always compassionate. Over the years, I watched it grow alongside me, reflecting shifting interests, moods, and life’s changing rhythms.

Humans (and animals, too) need regular mental stimulation and physical activity to thrive. You have to keep challenging your mind—and your body—if you hope to remain in good working condition for a decent time.

And honestly, the expenses for keeping this blog afloat for over ten years have reached the point where I could probably own a small herd of alpacas by now.

Since no one ever offered me a luxury jet—or anything remotely close —as a token of friendship, it’s nearly time for me to hang up my blogging boots and drift off for a much-deserved nap. Preferably somewhere warm, with a fruity drink in one hand and my trusty phone in the other—just in case inspiration strikes (or there’s an urgent sale on alpaca socks).

Non, je ne regrette rien! I don’t regret anything… it was a nice ride.

Alain

PS: You will probably be able to read a few more stories in my blog before the end of year.

The hunchback of Paris

When I was a child, I was a voracious reader, particularly captivated by swashbuckling tales. One of my favorite authors was Paul Féval, whose thrilling adventures kept me spellbound for hours.

Eddy Pay

His greatest triumph in the genre was Le Bossu (1857), which features the legendary swordsman Henri de Lagardère. Disguised as a hunchback, Lagardère sets out to avenge his friend, the Duke de Nevers, who was murdered by the villainous Prince de Gonzague. The novel gave us the mémorable motto: « Si tu ne viens pas à Lagardère, Lagardère ira à toi! » (“If you don’t come to Lagardère, Lagardère will come to you!”)

Lagardère was a dashing and deadly swordsman, feared by powerful enemies who relentlessly hunted him, hoping to silence him forever. Yet, as a gifted contortionist, he often hid beneath the guise of a humble hunchback, melting back into the shadows once his mission was complete. He was the consummate swashbuckler: courteous, daring, and deadly.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I was at the local pétanque field, watching my friends clash in friendly matches, when I couldn’t help but notice the skill of Eddy Pay. Just like Lagardère, he stepped into the arena when needed, carried out his precise and deadly work, and quietly withdrew once his task was done.

Yesterday, he was simply amazing, with a 95% accuracy rate. And what makes him truly admirable is his humility. No boasting or theatrics—just quietly getting the job done and fading into the background. Some call him the “silent killer” or “the silver cobra,” but to me, he is the epitome of a great pétanque player: efficient, modest, and gracious.

Three cheers for Eddy Pay—an extraordinary athlete and a very nice fellow to boot!

Alain

“A different language is a different vision of life.” – Federico Fellini

Speaking a foreign language has always been a valuable asset. It expands your worldview—and occasionally lets you pick up things you weren’t exactly meant to understand… like hot stock tips muttered at a bar or whispered military secrets over a crackling walkie-talkie.

Today, English reigns supreme, with roughly 1.52 billion people around the globe speaking it. It’s the go-to language for business, science, technology, diplomacy, and for asking rather urgently where the nearest restroom is.

In fact, no matter where you land on the planet, chances are someone will speak some form of English. It may not be good English, but who cares if it gets you a sandwich and a toilet?

Now, there’s a delightful flip side to all this linguistic unity: sometimes, not understanding one another has its perks. As the old French saying goes:
« Toute vérité n’est pas toujours bonne à dire. »
Not all truths are always good to tell.
Especially when those truths might trigger an international incident—or a marital meltdown.

You see, diplomacy often lies in the artful omission. You don’t have to lie; you can just pretend you didn’t catch what your wife said in the heat of the moment. “Sorry, dear, must’ve been the static on your tone.”

It’s a tactic. A survival tactic.

Interestingly, the U.S. divorce rate—still hovering between 40% and 50% for first marriages—has been gently declining. Coincidence? Or could it be that couples now bond across linguistic lines and just can’t argue properly?

Consider this: a Danish man marries a Filipina woman. Neither speaks the other’s language, but they both know just enough English to order food, ask for directions, and say, “I’m fine” through clenched teeth.

Their entire relationship floats on the limited vocabulary of global English. Misunderstandings are inevitable, but luckily, they remain largely… incomprehensible. And that, my friends, is what keeps the peace.

One of the greatest perks of this international arrangement? You can vent endlessly to your friends in your native tongue about your spouse without sparking a nuclear conflict at home. You might blow off steam, but no one gets blown up.

So let us embrace a common language for peace and harmony—and leave war to those who still barely communicate by smoke signals.

Alain