Which, loosely transalted, means "I have no regrets".

Whilst this song is often held up as a defiant symbol along the lines of "My Way" (think of Norman Lamont in the bath - no, wait, don't think of Norman Lamont in the bath because it's an image you just don't need). Hmm. There's a perfect example if an unstruction (blogs passim).

It's often used as a "I don't regret what I have done, and I'd do it again", but that's stretching it a bit. It's actually a love song, not a song of defiance. It's a song about how a woman falls in love and is basically saying "nothing that I have done before this moment matters, because my life has now begun with you".

So, from singing a love song, Edith Piaf came to symbolise French defiance (and other defiance too) throughout the world. It's not often I "do politics", but I couldn't resist this one.

Jerome Kerviel, the "rogue trader" from Societe Generale, has had all the charges against him thrown out. Oops. That wasn't part of the plan. Watch the trail of blame go further and further upstairs.

Also, watch out for some newspaper or other sticking in a headline of "Je Ne Regrette Rien", and use it in the context of defiance - rather than it's true meaning as a love song. If I find any links, I'll post them.

Anyway, sorry, the point. I put it down somewhere - much in the same way as I dsimantled the bike at the weekend - and it's around here somewhere. Please give me a minute to find it.

Ah yes, the point. Here it is. Good.

My nephew, a wee boy by the name of Cal, ended up in hospital yesterday. He had some kind of seizure, and he was eating an apple at the same time, and he ended up all blue and lifeless on the floor.

My big brother, Cal's Da, is a fireman. Despite panicking his tits off and not knowing what to do - I mean, that's his toddler lying there on the floor and his other one screaming - he kind of knew what to do. He resucitated the wee man, and called an ambulance. Out came the ambulance, oxygenmasks and stuff, and took the wee man to the hospital. He was lucky, my big brother had saved his life.

Don't even get me started on the hospital. It was an "apple choking incident" they decided. End of story. The doctor has spoken. Bollocks was it an apple choking incident. Please put the ego away doctor, and consider for a second that you weren't there. And if you patronise my big brother again by asking him "are you in the medical profession?" then you will end up dealing with me. Despite the fact that my big brother is, as his name suggests, "big" - you would rather be dealing with him than me when I get started.

So here's the thing. I seldom talk to my brother, and I see him even less. But, in times of crisis, our family fights as a cohesive unit - an impenetrable spartan Phalanx. And when we fight, we do it for real - believe me. My Ma is 5 feet tall, about 90 pounds soaking wet, and anybody with any sense is terrified of her.

So I'm bouncing through the traffic tonight on the way home, reflecting on how riding enduro makes you a better road rider - I have much much more control of the bike. Reflecting on a lot actually, which is what I do when I'm on the bike.

I also scowl. I scowl menacingly inside my helmet. Despite how much I enjoy riding, I have a face that looks like I just sucked on a pickled lemon. I am a different person when I am on the bike, it's almost as though my helmet acts as alens through which I see the world differently. It's like a crystal ball - I know what people are going to do before they know it themselves, and this is what keeps me alive.

So, I found this video. Please watch it:



Possibly because I've been thinking a lot about family, but Edith Piaf, as she sings, reminded me so much of Madge, my Nanna (a fearsome gold-hearted woman), my Ma and my Aunt Mary all rolled into one. Any one of them could sing this song and it would bring tears to your eyes. She even looks like how they would look as they get up, grabbed the microphone, and sang at some family party.

Thankfully, Jerome Kerviel may have brought the world's banking system into meltdown but he managed to delay it until I had paid for the lovely bunch of flowers I bought The Missus on the way home. After buying them, I realised that I hadn't thought about how I was going to carry them now I'm back on the bike so I just gripped them between my teeth. They tasted horrible - it is no wonder that they don't serve flowers in posh restauarants. But I got them home and smile on The Missus' face was well worth it.

You see, it's all about family. It's where you draw your strength from. Many, many, many times the outside world (or myself) has tried to crush me. Many, many, many times they have succeeded in doing so.

But they have never, yet, succeeded in keeping me crushed. Think of this bouncing back as practice for Dakar.

And, to completely misquote Edith Piaf, as everybody else does, "Je Ne Regrette Rien".

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