Category Archives: old cars

Tuesday 19th September 2017 – HAVING BEEN …

… out like a light during the evening, I found it difficult to drop off to sleep last night. Long after midnight and I was still trying to drop off.

When I finally did drop off, it was a difficult night with tossing and turning and all of that, and it was a struggle to leave the bed when the alarm went off.

But leave the bed I did and after breakfast and a little work on the laptop, I was out on the road by 09:30.

First disappointment was at the docks. There were a couple of big ships in there but there were road works, the bridge across the canal was out of order and, try as I might, I couldn’t find my way out there.

In the end I gave it up as a bad job and headed out of town.

First stop has of course to be our famous Tracel de Cap Rouge out on the edge of town.

Tracel is of course a French word and it’s where the English word “trestle” come from.

And this is probably the most magnificent trestle railway bridge in the whole of North America, even if it is made of iron and not of wood.

Cap Rouge is said to be the site of the first permanent settlement in North America.

In an effort to establish themselves in the New World in competition with the Spanish And Portuguese, the French sent colonists here in 1541.

However scurvy and what has been enigmatically described as “deteriorating relations with the natives” led to the surviving settlers being recalled to France.

There was a road – the Chemin du Roy – which was the first public highway in Nouvelle France, running between Quebec and Montreal.

I spent a good while over the years tracing its original route although much has been lost to modernisation and coastal erosion.

I never found an original plan of the route, but my assumption is that the road hugged the coast around here, somewhere along the line of tbat footpath.

Like I said, coastal erosion did for a lot of the original route.

You can see here where the official sign (which don’t necessarily follow the route, but never mind) points off to the right, but there’s a nice straight road ahead.

That disappears off down there and comes to a sudden stop at the bank in the bend of a river.

Yes, don’t count on the official signs.

The Chemin du Roy is signposted to follow the highway which is to the left of the photo just here

But when you see the orientation of this traditional Quebec cottage and the pathway that passes in front of it, it’s easy to imagine where the original trace of the Chemin might have been.

One of the things that we do when we are driving around is to look for proper football pitches.

They are quite common these days but when I first started coming to Canada they were few and far between.

This is the first one that I ever noticed – in Neuville – and access to photograph it was always difficult. But today, for some reason, it wasn’t a problem to go down there and photograph it properly.

A little earlier I talked about road alignments along the Chemin du Roy.

The area around Donnacona has been badly hit by coastal erosion and so tracing the original route is quite difficult.

But seeing a house orientated in this fashion with the trace of a track running past the front of a house, it’s easy to imagine where the original course might have been.

And here we had a moment of excitement.

As I pulled up here, I noticed an old guy peeking out at me from his window across the road. And he walked out onto his porch for a closer look.

“Are you having a problem with this?” I shouted across to him. He turned tail and walked back into his house.

When you see on an old map a street called “rue du Station”, you have to go to investigate … “well, one of us does” – ed.

I wasn’t expecting much because if you think that the Beeching cuts in the UK were severe, they were absolutely nothing compared to what happened to the railway network in Canada.

There are a few freight lines still operating, but passenger service outside the major cities has gone more-or-less completely. There’s nothing here in the former “rue du Station” to indicate what might have been a railway station.

But this is much more like it, isn’t it?

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we have seen one of these before in 2010 when we were in Goose Bay.

And here’s another one – a Bombardier “Auto-Neige” from the late 1930s, I reckon.

It’s for sale too, and if I had room in my suitcase this would be coming back to Europe with me because I think that it’s gorgeous.

On the two occasions that I’ve been to Deschambault I’ve been soaked with rain and I’ve never been able to photograph the town properly.

One of the places that I came here today to look for was the Ile Richelieu. The navigable channel up the St Lawrence is quite narrow here and there are rocks and rapids and the island was the icing on the cake for any defensive force.

The French built a fort out there on the island to control the passage upriver but a combination of a rolling fog, a very high tide and a strong wind enabled a British fleet to slip by and on to Montreal before the French could bring their guns into action.

Deschambault regularly appears in lists of the most beautiful villages in Quebec and it’s a listing that isn’t undeserved. That building over there is, believe it or not, the Town Hall

It’s not the only building in the place that’s in that particular “North American ante-bellum” style. The convent (every town worth its salt in Quebec has to have its convent) is also in the same style.

In our quest to fill out the missing gaps in the Chemin du Roy I’d seen an old track away by the Moulin de la Chevrotiere that would correspond with what I knew about the original trace of the route

I went to have a look, and I could identify ditches that resembled those that Becancour and Lanouiller – the architects – had specified for the sides of the road, and the stones of the type that they had specified to be placed in the marshy parts of the roadway.

We are told that at Grondines there’s a huge submarine electric cable that runs underneath the St Lawrence

This takes electricity from the Lower St Lawrence hydro plants (such as the Manic and Outardes complexes) over and into the USA.

There’s no visible trace of the cable from what I’ve been able to find, but this “Hydro Quebec” transmission post just outside the town might give us a clue as to where the cable might disappear into the earth.

If the village of Grondines has any claim to fame, it might be for its windmill.

When a Peace Treaty was signed with the Iroquois and the land was subsequently parcelled out to the local gentry – the Seigneurie System – one of the duties of the Seigneur was to provide a mill for the peasantry to grind their corn.

A water mill wouldn’t be much good on a slow-flowing river because the river would be frozen up for four months per year.

A great many windmills were thus erected by some of the Seigneurs, several of which survive today.

I arrive at Trois Rivieres just in time to be caught in the rush-hour traffic. And seeing as there are major roadworks in the town I reckon that I lose a good hour of my time.

I have to hit the Highway instead and arrive in Berthierville just as the light is starting to go.

Berthierville was the home of Formula One racing driver Gilles Villeneuve and it’s another place that I’ve always managed to miss while I’ve been out and about on my travels.

But today I make a determined effort and actually manage to track it down this year.

One last thing to do, and that’s in Repentigny down the road.

That’s to track down the hideously modern Church of Our Lady of the Fields – Notre Dame des Champs.

I’ve absolutely no idea what the designer of the church – Roger D’Astous – must have been smoking when he was drawing up the plans, but he’s managed to produce something that is so hideous that it’s almost attractive.

By now I’m running extremely late and there’s no chance of reaching Montreal tonight. But there’s a motel down the road that’s very tired and very shabby – and also very cheap.

They do me an excellent deal on the room, which is very good news, and I celebrate by having a shower and washing my clothes.

Pasta, mushrooms and tomato sauce make a nice meal, and then I crash out while working on the laptop.

I’m definitely beginning to feel the pace now.

Monday 28th August 2017 – I WONDER IF …

… you can guess where the Saint John River might be.

That’s right – it’s over there where all of the cloud is. Late August and already we are in the cold early mornings,
the rapid heating and the resulting condensation.

It’s not looking good for the autumn – but then I say that every year and I somehow seem to manage.

And it’s not just along the river either. Everywhere there was a patch of water there was a hanging cloud hovering in the vicinity.

Down there in Lakeville, for example, where there is, as you might expect, a lake, there was a large patch of it and I was drifting through patches of fog all through the morning.

I’d had a good sleep last night and even been on my travels but once again, I’ve no idea where to. And it didn’t take long for me to pack up the last remnants of my stuff and hit the highway.

Just Strawberry Moose and Yours Truly to start with but by the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong.

Remember last year when I saw that old car here in Woodstock?

Well, we can do much better than that today because we don’t just have one old car, we have three old lorries.

And quite interesting lorries they are too.

The flatbed lorry on the right is an “International” and the pick-up in the centre is a Chevrolet.

And we’ve seen these Chevrolets before – out on the Outer Banks of North Carolina back in 2005.

The one on the left with the tyre issues is the most exciting though. That’s an REO Speedwagon.

It’s amazing what you find in the backs of the barns occupied by these old potato farmers you know. All kinds of treasures are in there.

At Fredericton I bought an entire Walmart – including a slow cooker because Brain of Britain has left his other one in the lock-up in Montreal. How clever is that?

The Value Village came up with a few odds and ends, but Home Depot and Princess Autos (there’s one in Fredericton now) had nothing of interest.

From there I drove on towards Saint John and stopped for lunch at a convenient lay-by.

I was joined by a couple of locals who told me the legend of the maple Tree here but I didn’t pay too much attention. I was half-asleep with fatigue.

In Saint Johns I soon found a motel. Rather expensive and needs a good coat of paint but it had a microwave so next stop was Sobey’s and a bag of spuds.

I went to the Dollar Store for a microwave dish too and a few other bits and pieces, and cooked myself potatoes, sausages and beans.

But the beans left over from last year were nasty and found their way into the rubbish. I reckon that I’ll bin all of that stuff and buy some new.

So now I’m off for another early night. No need to go to the hospital as Ellen has now been expelled so I can pay my insurance and move on.

Sunday 30th July 2017 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since I had a proper Sunday?

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that back in the Good Old Days Sunday was a Day Of Rest. And not only that, but a lie-in too. And there were some Sundays when I didn’t show before midday too.

Those days seemed to be long-gone, didn’t they? Several times just recently I’ve been wide away on a Sunday long before my usual rising time of 07:00.

So what happened today that I was asleep until … errr … 10:13?

And a good sleep too. I was away on my travels too – carrying on from yesterday round here somewhere outside, with with three other people. All of them pseudo-priests, and were in fact three young lads whom I knew when I worked in Brussels.

10:15 in here, breakfast over by 10:45, and then a sit-down for an hour or so. Far too late to go for the baguette at the magasin de presse so I reckoned a quick stroll down the hill.

But what the …! What’s going on here?

Hordes of people clinging to various vantage points looking at what looks like a ship blowing off thousands of gallons of water for some reason or another.

I had to go and check that out. Maybe it was a shipwreck or something (I’d seen a ship on the horizon in the dark last night);

But I didn’t get too far down the hill though.

The Marité might not have been at home (she’s been gone for a few days now) but lots of other people were there on her quayside.

Some kind of military vehicle display I reckon.

So cancel the baguette I nipped down to the fritkot for a bag of chips and threw all of my plans into the air.

Some kind of military vehicle display it was indeed.

Probably about 20 wartime vehicles all told, of all shapes, sizes and descriptions. Tanks, jeeps, lorries and motorcycles, and so I had a good wander around.

Quite a lot of stuff that I would have happily taken home in a heartbeat.

But pride of place anywhere, anyhow and on any occasion has to go to the magnificent Welbike.

Designed to fold to fit into a parachute supply container, these were used by paratroopers and resistance fighters all over Occupied Europe.

A brilliant idea, but the Villiers 98cc two-stroke engine was hopelessly underpowered for the rough terrain and many were abandoned by the paratroopers as an unnecessary encumbrance once the War opened out.

Naturally, this part of France, not too far from the D-Day beaches, would be where you might expect the odd one or two to surface every now and again.

From there I wandered off down the quayside and onto the harbour mole to see if I could see anything that was going on where that ship might have been.

It had cleared off, so it can’t have been a shipwreck, but nevertheless I had a superb view of the Iles de Chausey and so I gave the new zoom lens a run-out.

And the verdict? Not as good as I would have liked, but I’ve had much worse than this. And it IS automatic focus.

But it did occur to me that I’ve not taken a photograph of the port of Granville from this vantage point yet.

I was over there where that black triangle was the other day, and you can see one of the boats that go to the Iles de Chausey in the bay next to it.

To the left of centre are the lock gates for the commercial port. It’s a tidal basin so when the tide is going out they close the gates so that the water stays in and the big ships like Pluto and Victress can stay afloat.

I waled all the way back to here via the Coastal Path. First time that I’d done that.

There’s a good view right back across the port and the town from up here, and you can see the ship repairer’s yard too. They have a novel way of hoisting ships out of the water.

So I carried on back here but couldn’t see anything to suggest what that ship or whatever it was might have been doing.

And had a rest when I arrived. It was a long walk back here – 4.8 kilomtres in fact according to the Fitbit.

Tea was pizza tonight (well, it IS Sunday) and I had a chat with Liz on the internet. Now another walk and an early night. Start again at 07:00 tomorrow.

We have church bells going off and a choir singing in the vicinity tonight.

Sunday 9th July 2017 – GRIBOUILLE …

… is one very unhappy moggy this morning. And who can blame him?

He went out at first light for his usual early-morning constitutional, but upon his return home for breakfast, started to scratch. And scratch. And scratch. So cue the flea-powder.

Consequently when I went out for my baguette this morning, there he was sitting sulking on the path outside his home, having abandoned his perch on the windowsill in a fit of pique.

He wasn’t the only one having a fit of pique this morning either. Having made a point of having a late-ish night last night in preparation for a major lie-in for a change, I was up and about at … errr … 06:40. And it wasn’t with fleas either.

But the early start meant an early breakfast, and it also meant an early start on the blog. And with great effect too, because not only have I finished the modernisation to the modernisation, I’ve started on the modernisation to the modernisation to the modernisation.

Yes, it seems that even recently, I’ve not been keeping to the standards that I intended to set.

And the bringing up to date of the pre-July 2013 stuff is proceeding apace. I’d done three entries before I went out for my baguette and all in all today, I’ve done … errrr … 20 or so.

Including a couple of rather lengthy entries. Not as long as the marathon entry that I amended yesterday, but nevertheless, enough to keep me out of mischief for a while. I’m now well into September 2012.

I enjoyed my trip out for the baguette this morning. It gave me a chance to see who and what was about on the streets.

Such as this gorgeous Peugeot 403. You used to see these by the thousand all over the streets of France and even now there are still plenty about being used as everyday drivers.

Well over a million of these were built between 1955 and 1966, replacing my beloved Peugeot 203, and so well-made were they that they seem to have long-outlived the “Farina” 404 that replaced them.

Back here and pressing onrelentlessly with the blog, I did manage to pause for lunch.

That was taken once again up on the wall overlooking the harbour. And what a busy harbour it was too today.

Pluto had left on the morning tide and by the time that you read this she will probably be in her next port of call, which will be Whitstable in Kent.

But there were plenty of other ships floating around out there making the most of the beautiful weather. Grockles clearly out in force.

As for me, I came back in here to escape the heat and have a little … errr … relax before cracking on again.

Tonight’s pizza was the best yet. Still took too long to cook, but delicious all the same. It would be nice to have the perfect oven that does exactly what I want but I need to be realistic and admit that that is never going to happen.

And so we’ll have an early night tonight. And a good sleep too, I hope.

Sunday 14th May 2017 – THIS NEW MICROWAVE THING …

… has its uses, and I’m sure that I’ll be able to make the most of them once I work them out.

A cooked a pizza today using the grill function as well as the microwave and while it wasn’t all that good, it was better than some that I’ve had. The grill bit seemed to do its stuff but the base wasn’t cooked properly. What i’ll have to try to do next time is to microwave it first, and then give it 5 minutes under the grill and see what that does. It’ll be a case of trial and error, by which time I’ll probably have a real oven.

Seeing as how it was Sunday and a lie-in, what was I doing up and about at 06:15? The answer to that is the reason that any man of my age will understand. And I wasn’t up long either. Back in bed where I slept right through until 08:30.

And that was nice for a change, in my comfortable bed. And I didn’t fall asleep watching a film either last night because the battery went flat in the laptop while I was in bed. And I couldn’t be bothered to haul myself out of bed to find the charger.

Nevertheless, I did manage to go out and about during the night. I was in some kind of house with a couple of other people, including someone – a girl – whom I knew very well (and I just can’t think who it was now) and we were visited by some kind of loud-mouthed man who insisted on trying to force his opinions on us. It all became rather heated and in the end we had to use force to evict him from the premises. We thought that that would be that but I’d forgotten that there was an entrance down the side of the house and I had to dash quickly across the house to barricade the door just as he and another woman were trying to gain entrance.
A little later I was back in my own house – the one in the Auvergne to be precise although it wasn’t, if you know what I mean – and there had been some issue with the electricity. The electricity had been connected since the Friday and my consumption had been extremely negligible, which is hardly surprising seeing as I was using solar power and wind turbines. However wind turbines and solar panels weren’t authorised and everyone had to have a mains connection. These people came to visit me to inspect my premises and they were surprised by the low consumption of energy but I explained that I was quite happy to live without it and didn’t need it – that was the reason. So after much discussion they left the premises. But just as they left, I forgot myself and switched on a light – and I reckoned that they would be bound to notice that. As an aside, I wasn’t on my own here in the house but I had a girl with me – a girl whom, if I am not mistaken, is making her debut in my nocturnal ramblings so hello to you, Sue G.

After breakfast I mooched around for quite a while. I was planning to go out to the football but sometime during the night I must have pulled a muscle in my leg and I couldn’t walk very far.

But the weather cleared up later on in the afternoon. The sun disappeared, the clouds disappeared and we had a beautiful blue sky. Despite the aches in my leg, I decided that I ought to go outside for a walk after all. It would do me good.

And this is the view from where I sometimes eat my lunch – looking along the coast towards Donville les Bains. I wasn’t the only one enjoying the weather either because there was a small family sitting down there among the rocks.

Further along the cliffs there was a really good view of the building where my apartment is.

There are two entrances to the building, one nearest the cliffs and hidden by the bush and the second, nearest the road is the door to my half of the building. My apartment is on the first floor at the back.

But you can see how close we are to the cliffs and the sea, can’t you?

There’s a public footpath along the top of the cliff right out to the headland down there. It’s about half a mile down there and so regardless of the pain in my leg I decided to set out for a walk.

As you know, I have a thing about lighthouses and it’s nice to think that I’m living within a short stroll of one such. I’ll have to go out one night and see if it actually works.

In the past, you’ve seen quite a few photographs of the Ile de Chausey away in the distance at the entrance of the Baie de Mont St Michel.

But here on the edge of the cliff, the view here is even more impressive. And this is just the normal camera lens,
not the telephoto lens. That gives you an idea of how high up we are just here on the cliffs.

I imagine that the marker buoy here is to warn shipping of the rocks here. Like I said, i’ll have to go out at night and see what is lit up.

But while we’re on the subject of good views and height, there was a very good view of this motor boat out there in the distance. But it wasn’t that that caught my eye.

Right out there in the far distance you can see land on the horizon. That is actually the island of Jersey, and it’s all of 60 kilometres – 35 miles – away. That’s the kind of view that we were having today. The conditions were perfect.

As I said – conditions were perfect.

Away over there in the distance is the town of Bricqueville sur Mer where I stayed for a couple of weeks a while ago. Its church is famous for its magnificent spire and you can clearly see that in the distance on the top of the ridge in the background.

You can also see the oyster beds there in the bay.

This area was heavily fortified by the Germans in World War II. The fortifications of the Atlantic Wall extended down as far as here and they were so well-built that they have resisted all attempts to remove them.

There are several gun emplacements here on the cliffs overlooking the entrance to the bay and you can see what happened when they tried to dynamite one of them.

In fact they tried to dynamite a couple of them and merely succeeded in scattering lumps of concrete about the place. What they could move easily, they moved it. But the remainder, they just left here and incorporated them into a public garden.

After all of that, they gave up trying to remove all of the rest of them.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I have something of an issue with bad and inconsiderate parking.

Here’s a beautiful example of an old XK Jag that isn’t even parked, it’s abandoned, right acrossthe entrance to the lighthouse and in the zone that should be kept clear for the fire brigade.

But as we know, Parisians consider that laws in the Provinces don’t apply to them as they are some kind of superior being.

Round the corner of the headland and overlooking the Baie de Mont St Michel. Across there is the town of Jullouville where I spent a couple of days immediately after returning from Leuven, with its chateau d’eauup there at the back of town.

In the foreground is a marker light for the entrance to the harbour here in Granville. I would imagine that if anything around here is going to be illuminated at night, then that light would be the one.

A little bit further around along the coast is the town of Carolles and the seaside resort of Carolles-Plage.

If you cast your mind back a few weeks, we went for a walk one morning all along the beach from Jullouville to the headland at Carolles-Plage and stopped for a coffee.

And that over there to the right across the bay, that’s Brittany.

Around the headland, I doubled back on my route, but of course on the other – south – side.

Here we have not only a splendid view of the lower town and the edge of the harbour here, but also an excellent view of the fortifications of the old medieval city walls.

The church that is over there is the one that I can see from my living room window and slightly to the left of centre is that beautiful turretted building that we saw from close up the other day.

Now who’s he when he’s at home – if he ever is?

Ahh yes, Georges Pleville le Pelley. Born in Granville in 1726 and died in Paris in 1805. His claim to fame is that apart from many high offices that he held later in life (such as Governor of the Port of Marseille) he was a corsair who preyed on the British during many of the wars of the 18th Century.

Not only that, he’s one of those people conveniently forgotten by the uSA without whom the USA would never have had its independence from Britain. The British imposed a naval blockade on the 13 States during the War of Independence,
and this cut them off from a supply of all manufactured goods which they needed to sustain the war. The French navy engaged the British blockade ships on countless occasions, allowing blockade runners carrying munitions to slip into American harbours. Pleville le Pelley was one of the most intrepid of these blockade runners.

The Americans have completely forgotten about the huge debt that they owe to the French for safeguarding their borders during their fight for independence.

From here, I went back home again. I have some strawberry sorbet in the freezer, just the thing for a very warm Spring evening. And now it is pizza time. So I’ll attack the aforementioned and leave you to read this … errr … 1720 words.

And serve you all right too!

Tuesday 18th April 2017 – IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME …

… since we’ve featured an old car in this rubbish, so here’s one to be going on with.

Parked on the car park of the LeClerc supermarket at Granville at lunchtime is this rather nice Morris 1000 Traveller. It’s a left-hand drive one too, so how rare is that? (Not quite as rare as my left-hand drive Vanden Plas of course) but it’s still a beautiful vehicle.

And thinking about it, I never owned a Morris 1000, or even a Morris Minor come to that. I must have been slipping.

So despite everything that I said last night, I didn’t have a very good night. Not only did I manage to watch the film all the way through, I had a great deal of difficulty dropping off to sleep afterwards. At one point I did remember it being 00:45.

And I was awake early too – at 06:30 to be precise. That gave me plenty of time to have a good shower, a shave and a tidy up of my room. Then at 09:30 I cleared off.

It’s market day in Jullouville today so I went for a prowl around. And while the market might be better than that at Pionsat, that’s about all that cam be said for it. Rather disappointing.

I went to see an Estate Agent about the possibility of buying a place. Let’s assume for the sake of this discussion that my budget is €70,000 (which it isn’t, but it will do). So I told him that – and he immediately sorted out the properties at €68,000, €70,000 and (of course) €75,000.

“What about that one?” I said, pointing to one at €45,000.
“Do you want to see that one too?” he asked.

Yes, I knew exactly what I was going to get with this estate agent. They are all the same, the whole world over.

So he showed me various photos of various piles of ruins, one with damp clearly visible streaming down the wall underneath the window.

“There’s nothing here that really tempts me” I said.
“You won’t find many where you want at your price range” he said
“I don’t want many” I answered. “I only want one”.

I had a pile of phone calls to make after that, and so I headed off to Granville. Apart from those, I needed some stuff for butties for lunch too. That’s where I saw the Morris 1000.

I found the Centrakor which cheered me up. For the benefit of UK readers, it’s rather like a Wilkinsons but slightly better quality. Lots of nice stuff in there for when I (eventually) find somewhere to live.

Now here’s a sight that should gladden your hearts. Here we are, the day after Easter Monday, and there’s Christmas items already in the shops.

Actually, this is rather a cheat. There’s also a NOZ here in the town. Not as big as the one in Montlucon but it’s here just the same and worth noting. Stuff in here is, well, end of lines, end of series, all of that, and hence the Christmas items, left over from last year I suppose.

Still, it’s a good photo to cheer you up. Only 250 days to go, you know.

I went up on the headland above the harbour to eat my butties this afternoon. It was beautiful up there, even if the wind was blowing a gale, and I … errr … had a relax for a couple of hours.

Later on, I drove out to where I’m staying for the next two weeks. There’s an old saying that “you can’t win a coconut every time” and given the good luck that I’ve had when I’ve been hotel-hunting, I’m bound to come a cropper every now and again.

I’m in a place called Bricqueville sur Mer which, despite its name, is about 4 miles from the coast, one of two bedrooms and I share a kitchen and bathroom with the people in the other room (it’s empty at the moment). It’s a farmhouse-type of place and it could be so nice if they tried, but it’s furnished in the worst of the 1950s bad taste and it has that horrible, damp, musty, unaired smell that I hate so much.

Still, it’s the cheapest place that had a vacancy for all of that time (so I’m not really complaining), breakfast is included and there is a cat. Old, creaking and grey around the edges and loves his cuddles – but that’s enough about me for now, let’s talk about the cat.

So I’ll have an early night, watch a film and see how I feel in the morning. I hope that I can cheer myself up.

Friday 17th March 2017 – THAT WAS ANOTHER …

… Sleep of the Dead last night. Totally painless it was too. And I was off on my travels. I had taken a job a a tram driver and after being trained, I took to the rails. On my first journey I couldn’t pull in at a tram stop as there was a lorry parked in the way so I had to go past and reverse back in (yes, on rails, this was!). But in reversing in, I switched the points and so on setting off again I was going down the wrong road. I couldn’t reverse back either because by now another tram had pulled up behind me. And so I’d somehow managed to bring the whole city’s tram network to a grinding halt.

Breakfast was quite quiet – just two of us there – and then I came back to finish off some work before hitting the road. But I had the wanderlust and so I didn’t hang around long. I was soon on my way.

Mind you, I didn’t manage to travel very far at first. As I was driving past some kind of farm-place, I noticed the rear end of an old car poking out from under a lean-to.

At first glance I thought that it might have been a Morris Oxford MO – the “Big Minor” of the late 1940s and early 1950s of which my father had two when we were kids – KKB547 and LDM819. It’s only natural therefore that I pulled up to make further enquiries.

First thing that I noticed was that it was not a Morris Oxford MO at all but a fairly-similar-looking Hotchkiss saloon of a similar period. And that was something that quite amazed me because I’d never seen one of these before.

Secondly, it wasn’t alone either. There was a second one here too. In a much-more-complete condition. And both of these vehicles had quite a considerable amount of company.

There was a sign on the premises – “Private Property – Visits Tolerated Under Supervision Of An Occupant Of The Premises” – and you’ve no idea how long it took me to actually find someone who looked as if he belonged to the site.

Just as I was giving up all hope, a young guy turned up in an old (as in 1990s) Citroen. We had a little chat and eventually he gave me the necessary authority to go for a wander around with the Nikon D5000

And this is what I found underneath the lean-to in total. An absolute treasure-trove of vehicles.

We have of course the blue Hotchkiss on the extreme left of the photo. That’s exciting enough, and I have no idea what the beige car might be on the right – and there was no-one around to ask. But as for the other two, these are Delages and I would take the big one – which I think might be an S6 – home with me in a heartbeat. It’s gorgeous.

But then of course, that’s not all by any means because the place was littered with all kinds of stuff. Stuff that the owner thinks may be of less value but which for someone like me, are absolutely magnificent machines.

This is a chassis and bulkhead of something and I’ve no idea what it might be, or have been. But it’s not the kind of thing that I would leave lying around like this.

And that’s not the worst of it either. Because there are tons more stuff just lying around littering the yard.

This looks as if it dates to the 1930s and according to what I could make out, it might be a Talbot or maybe an ancient Hotchkiss. But that’s a sheer guess on my part because I couldn’t find any indication at all as to what it might have been.

As for this vehicle, it looks as if it’s even earlier. At least it has had a tarpaulin thrown over it to save it from the weather.

Again, I don’t have very much idea of what it might be – it’s certainly something that I don’t recall ever having seen before. It’s possibly a Hotchkiss but then again, what would I know about it?

This car is much easier to identify because there’s quite a prominent bonnet badge on the radiator.

It’s a very sad-looking Talbot, from the days when Talbot knew how to make cars rather than assemble knock-down Chrysler rubbish. It still has some of its paint and with a good little bit of elbow grease and plenty of time, someone could actually make something out of this if they would only get a move on.

This is even much more like it and this ought to be dragged under cover out of the weather as soon as possible.

The radiator badge gives away the identity of this vehicle. It’s a Delage of course, probably from the early 1930s and this is another vehicle that would find ts way down to my barn in the Auvergne if I were in a position to do something about it.

These three vehicles are extremely exciting too. We have the Delage in the far distance, and the vehicle in the centre of the photograph is the Talbot.

But the vehicle closest to the camera head-first against the outbuilding is, according to the casting on the engine, a Delahaye. Unfortunately, this is quite far gone and it would take a brave restorer of vehicles to have a good go at this. But it certainly deserves it.

And this is perhaps the saddest vehicle of them all, I reckon. It’s a 1930s Delahaye which is comparatively complete, but yet seems to be too far gone for anyone to do very much with.

This is really a tragedy because while it might not have the class of the 1950s Delage that is underneath the lean-to that we saw earlier, it is just so nice and deserves so much better than this.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. The lean-tos and sheds are jam-pack full of bits and pieces and even old cars that it is absolutely impossible to access. I could have spent all day here.

Instead, I’ll poke the lens of the camera through the bits and pieces and show you what I mean. This is a Talbot and at a rough guess it’s from the late 1920s, and it’s under cover out of the weather. And for that I’m extremely grateful.

And if you have more luck or knowledge than I have in identifying these vehicles, let me know. All the information that you can let me have would be most gratefully received.

And I wasn’t alone while I was admiring these vehicles. This deer came to join me. Personally, I reckon that she must have been attracted by the presence of Strawberry Moose sitting in Caliburn outside – you never know.

Anyway I couldn’t hang around here all day, much as I would like to. I had things to do, places to go, people to see.

My journey took me along the side of the canal and the western banks of the River Loire until I headed off through the Foret de Troncais.

By now the sun was out and the sky was clear and blue – not as nice as yesterday but nevertheless …

I stopped for an hour or so at Meaulne for a butty, to read a book and to tidy out a pile of rubbish from Caliburn. You’ve no idea how much rubbish has accumulated inside him since I hit the road for my appointment with destiny … gulp … 12 months ago

Back on the road I had yet more things to do and this involved a trip around a fewplaces in Montlucon. But it looks as if one of my projects is about to tomber à l’eau, for all kinds of reasons.

Now I’m in an IBIS Budget on the outskirts of Montlucon. I’m going to gather my wits and then head home tomorrow. First time for three months and I’m not looking forward to it, to be honest.

Thursday 16th March 2017 – I THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE …

… my hotel.

It might not look very much from the outside but I’ll tell you something – and that is that it’s the first time since about 1990 that I’ve made a conscious on-the-spot decision to stay over for a second night in a hotel.

The staff is extremely friendly, the breakfast is adequate, the room is clean and tidy and the bed is one of the most comfortable that I’ve ever tried. And being right out here in the countryside, I didn’t hear a thing during the night.

The one problem with going to bed early though is that one has a tendency to wake up early too, and by 06:00 I was wide awake. I had to wait for breakfast though, which I’d booked at 07:30, and so I had the pleasure of David Bowie reminding me that it was 07:00 with his “Wake up, little sleepy-head. Shake off your clothes, get out of bed!” followed at 07:15 by Billy Cotton going “Wakey waaaaaaa…. KAY!”. Ohh the joys of “Audacity” and the ability to customise my own sound clips.

After breakfast, I sat outside in the sunshine and attacked some work that had been building up. That gave me an opportunity to have a rest and relax for a few hours. And then I hit the streets.

First stop was through the town and out the other side to the Auchan supermarket to negotiate some food for lunch. I had a good look at what was going on in there too because I wanted to see what was on offer because, as you know, I have some cunning plans. Finding the entrance to the car park was quite the thing though – it wasn’t all that easy.

once I was back on the road, I didn’t get very far. Only just about into the département of Loiret, where I came to a shuddering halt.

Here on the side of the road, jealously guarded by Rover, was a Peugeot 203 sitting here dans son jus as the French say. My ideal kind of vehicle and had it been a pick-up or even a van, I would have gone straight home for my trailer to tow it away.

It’s actually at the entrance to a car body repair shop, and it does serve a purpose just sitting here outside. That’s because inside, there are several other vehicles, including another Peugeot 203, that have been restored.

The garage proprietor explained to me (we had a very lengthy chat) that he has some excellent staff working for him and when times are slack he doesn’t want to lose them. So he picks up vehicles like this and his staff work on them whenever there’s a pause in the work.

It keeps them employed, and gives them an opportunity to demonstrate their skills by bringing something like this back to life.

But before long, in the beautiful sunshine, I arrived in Briare – or to be more precise, Briare-le-Canal – which was my destination for today.

And I had good reason to be here too. Being a Pisces and at home whenever I’m close to water, there are not many places closer to the water than around here. I have one beautiful river – the Loire, of course, and no less than three canals.

And not only that, a magnificent structure designed by Gustave Eiffel. The Pont-Canal (or aqueduct) de Briare, and it’s one of the most impressive of its type in the whole world.

But first of all, it’s lunchtime and I attack my butty with gusto. And I’m not alone here either because I’m joined by a woman from Paris in an old Fiat Multiplas who seems to travel just as I used to in North America, with everything inside and even a place to sleep.

She reckons that she’s even been as far as the North Cape in Norway travelling like this.

I have to say that I was very impressed, because it’s rare to see someone travel like that these days, and a single woman even more so.

So having had my butty and a good chat, I went for a wander around. A slow wander, it has to be said, because the day was really hot. Easily the best day of the year to date.

So to let me put you in the picture, let me tell you a little about the history of where we are. Everything here is centred around the first of the canals to be built here, and that goes back to, would you believe, the early 17th Century.

We mentioned yesterday when we talked about Cosne-sur-Loire that the river here was a major transportation route, right back as far as history records. Roman roads were of course very well-known and very well-built, but technology didn’t exist for the transport of large amounts of items.

We saw, when we were in Clamecy a few years ago, how the timber from the Forests of Morvan was cut down and floated off to Paris where it was used as firewood.

In any case, the techniques of road-building were for all intents and purposes lost once the Romans had passed on, and what passed for roads in early medieval days were nothing but beaten earth and descended into an impassible morass at the first sign of heavy rain.

There was thus no possibility of sending heavy loads by road, and so rivers became the only reliable method of transport.

Anyway, we move forward to the start of the 17th Century and the decision by Sully, the First Minister of King Henry IV to improve business between the different regions of France. Da Vinci had come up with the idea of canal locks and so Sully decided that a canal should be built to link the valleys of the River Loire and the River Seine, incorporating Da Vinci’s ideas.

Construction began in 1604 and after a pause following the assassination of the King, the canal was finally opened in 1642. It was one of the very first in Europe to use locks.

As boats became bigger and bigger, and traffic became heavier, navigation on the River Loire in places became more problematic. As a result, a canal was built in places parallel to the river to avoid the most difficult stretches of the river.

This section here that we can see runs (or rather, ran, because some of it has been abandoned) from Chatillon sur Loire to a short distance beyond Briare where it joins up with the original entrance to Sully’s canal.

But commerce, evolving as it does, required a new navigation system and this led to a modernisation of Sully’s canal and a “regularisation” of the route. This led to a new trace being built, and this required an aqueduct across the River Loire and the parallel canal.

In 1889 a decision was made to build the aqueduct across the river, and Gustave Eiffel and his company was brought in on the project, with construction of the metalwork entrusted to Daydé & Pillé. Construction began in 1890 and the first boat, the Aristide, crossed over on 16th September 1896.

662 metres long, the aqueduct is, and it’s absolutely beautiful. It became registered as a national historic monument in 1979 and what surprises me is that it took so long for its importance to be recognised.

And important it is too, because For many years it was the longest metal canal aqueduct in the world, maintaining its place at the top of the list until as recently as 2003 when it was overtaken by a new aqueduct in Germany.

And so I went for a beautiful walk across it and back along the other side today in the glorious weather. And I have to admit that I spent a good few minutes sitting on a bench, catching my breath watching a member of the Water Board painting the decorations on the pillars.

A coffee would have been nice too but astonishingly, there wasn’t very much in the way of cafés open. Just one in fact, but it was the kind of place where you needed a bank loan to buy a drink.

I just don’t understand people who are in business. Hordes of people wandering around and yet no-one seemed to be too interested in taking their money. Any self-respecting café owner should have looked out of his window, seen the beautiful day, seen the hordes milling about, and set out his stall accordingly.

It really is astonishing, the money-making opportunities that are being overlooked these days. No wonder there’s a recession at the moment.

Anyway, I headed back to my hotel and a lengthy chat with the landlord, putting the world to rights. And then back to my room for a doze followed by the remainder of my meal from last night. Potato salad is a very good standby and I’ll be doing this again.

Now I’m having an early night yet again. I need it.

Wednesday 15th March 2017 – THAT WASN’T A VERY NICE …

… night at all.

Not for any shortcomings of the hotel, I hasten to add. This was in fact one of the better Première Classe hotels (but still not as good as the one at Maubeuge last year of course) but nevertheless it took me an age to go off to sleep and then I tossed and turned a good while during the night.

A hot shower brought me round – sort-of-ish, and a good breakfast followed. I had a rest for a while afterwards, and then edited some music tracks so that I have some custom alarm calls and ringtones on my new telephone.

First stop was the Cora supermarket around the corner. And here was a thing.

Those of you with long memories will remember back many years ago about the Morrisons supermarket at Reading where the car park had a height barrier “to stop travellers entering the car park”, but also keeping out anyone with a high vehicle.

Here, they seem to have the same issues, but nevertheless they have managed to make a parking space for high vehicles and here’s a rather dirty Caliburn to prove it.

I’ve hit on a new plan for eating out in hotels, which I’ll explain later. It involves a visit to the shops and the purchase of certain items. But while the supermarket was good and objects at a reasonable price, the woman on the check-outs was useless. Far too busy talking to her friends in the queue to concentrate on what she was doing and as a result she was making mistake after mistake. Not a very good advertisement at all for the store.

Having given Caliburn a really good wash, I had a slow drive through the countryside towards the south-west and into the watershed of the River Loire.

Destination was the town of Toucy, still in the département of the Yonne. I’d driven through here on several occasions 9 or 10 years ago and I’d noticed the old railway artefacts here in the town. Today was the day that I had decided to come to see what was going on

The place was all locked up, and looked as if it had been that way for 10 years. Everything was rusting and decayed, including these beautiful diesel multiple-unit panorama cars.

The driver’s cabin is very interesting, isn’t it? But that kind of thing would never work in the UK with the restricted loading gauge on British railways.

The only British railway network with anything resembling a Continental loading gauge, the Great Central, was closed down in the 1960s.

This was probably the most short-sighted of all of the short-sighted railway “economy” measures of the Beeching era, and replacing it today for the HS2 network is costing the UK billions and billions of Pounds.

That’s the trouble with the UK of course – it’s all down to short-term economies and there isn’t an ounce of long-term vision in anything that the country does.

And they are going to find out that for themselves once Brexit begins to bite.

But leaving aside yet another good rant for a while, I carried on with my wandering around the railway … errr … museum.

As you can see, the exhibits, such as they are, have clearly seen better days and there doesn’t look as if there is anything going on here. There doesn’t seem to be anything in the way of restoration or renovation taking place on the … errr … exhibits here. They are just parked up and abandoned.

This is probably one of the saddest exhibits here on the site.

I don’t know anything very much about French railway locomotives and the like, but this looks as if it’s something quite unusual and interesting – far too interesting to be just stuck here in a siding and left to rot away.

It’s all quite depressing, wandering around here and seeing all of this.

These little locomotives were quite interesting. Yard shunters, I reckon, and made by Baudet Donon and Roussel in the early 1950s.

It’s a little-known fact that this company is actually the successor of the company founded by Gustave Eiffel, he of the tower fame. The company branched out into the construction of railway locomotives and multiple-units, and quite a lot of the company’s equipment found its way onto the French railway network during the period of modernisation after World War II.

These little machines weigh a mere 14 tonnes, are just under 6 metres in length and flat-out, they will travel at all of 16kph.

Mind you, with a Renault 60 horse-power PETROL engine, 8-speed gearbox and chain drive, you aren’t going to get much more out of her.

They were the first locomotives to come of the new SNCF standardisation process after the War and replaced all kinds of assorted yard shunters, including horses and, in at least one case, oxen.

They were essentially a temporary measure and withdrawal of the class started in 1979.

Railway tourism seems to be the up-and-coming thing these days, and this can be accomplished in many different ways.

You might also remember when we were in New Brunswick, Canada, back in October last year, that we saw that old railway bicycle that I admired so much. Combine the two together, and you’ll end up with something like this.

Mind you, it would be really exciting meeting another similar vehicle coming the other way on a single-track line. “Survival of the fittest” is what springs immediately to mind.

There’s a pile of narrow-gauge railway equipment here too, and they have laid some kind of track to accommodate it.

It looks very much like mining or quarrying equipment to me, although there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of mining around here and I’ve no idea where there might be a quarry.

But like everything else around here, it’s all lying around abandoned and there’s no signage or anything to indicate what all of it might be

One thing is quite clear though.

In the past, I’ve been totally scathing of what passes for “preservation” of railway and other historical artefacts in North America. Having seen what is (or isn’t) going on here, I’m going to have to keep my mouth closed, or else start eating some rather large helpings of humble pie.

I couldn’t leave the site though without taking a photo of this sorry machine.

It’s a Van Hool Alizée of the mid-1980s, lying here abandoned in the yard, and it brings back many happy memories for me. 25-30 years ago, I was earning my living travelling around Europe in one of these with piles of tourists when I worked for Shearings Holidays.

Beautiful machines, especially when built on a Volvo chassis, but this one is rear-engined so at first I thought that it might be a Scania. However,it turns out to be a MAN and I never had the opportunity to drive one of these.

Ohhh happy days!

As you may (or may not) know, I have a degree in Historical Technology and just down the road from Toucy is Guedelon.

Guedelon is an extremely interesting place and very high on my list of places to visit because what they are actually doing is building a Medieval castle from scratch.

Not only that, they are using nothing but construction techniques of the period, including man-powered cranes and the like.

You can imagine therefore that this was a place that was also very high on my list of places to visit, and so I set off chaud-pied, as they might say around here, to see what I could see.

But regular readers of this rubbish will know exactly what I discovered when I arrived here.

That’s right. The place is closed “for the season” and despite all of the people wandering around the site pretending to work, it wasn’t possible for me to gain admittance, even just for the purpose of taking a few photos.

That was something that I found extremely miserable.

However, it’s not all doom and gloom because as I arrived at Cosne-Cours sur Loire, I encountered this magnificent beast, and it’s another sad and sorry machine having been abandoned to the elements, despite its rarity value.

It’s a Delahaye fourgonette – I reckon a type B163 – and it’s the type of chassis preferred by the French fire brigades in the early 1950s for the building of specialist vehicles.

But it’s rather a shame to see it sitting here out in the open in a field like this. As I said – I’ll have to stop criticising the North Americans.

By now, it’s time for (a very late) lunch and so I head into the town. The River Loire passes by here in all its magnificence and there’s a nice park across the river from the town that’s a very suitable place to stop.

And, as you have probably noticed, the clouds have gone, the sun is out and there’s a beautiful blue sky to sit and watch me as I eat. It’s a marvellous afternoon and I intend to make the most of it.

The town itself is another one of these beautiful, cramped Medieval cities that has unfortunately seen better days.

There seems to have been a settlement here in Prehistoric times and there was certainly a … errr .. Gallo-Roman settlement called Condate here.

With its comparatively easy crossing of the Loire here, it was the centre of several confrontations throughout history. As far as the British are concerned, its claim to fame was that during the Hundred Years War, Henry V was marching here to meet the Burgundian Army in 1422 when he caught dysentery and died.

His premature death effectively marked the end of any serious hopes that the English might have had of making a permanent conquest of France.

By the 17th Century there was a thriving metallurgical industry here and this was the basis of the wealth of the town. It manufactured fittings for the French naval industry and these were shipped out down the Loire to the naval shipyards downriver.

However the French railway network caused a decline in navigation on the Loire and the metallurgical industry closed down in the 1870s. Some vestiges of the industry lingered on for a while but it all eventually petered out and led to the slow decline of the town.

Today though, it’s the second-largest town in the département of the Nievre after Nevers and as a result it’s become something of an important regional administrative centre.

There’s a beautiful suspension bridge here across the river and this is what had attracted me to the town. I’d never had the time to stop here before.

Unfortunately it’s not the original bridge here. That dated from 1833 but unfortunately that was destroyed during the Second World War. The bridge that’s here today dates from the 1950s but nevertheless, it’s still a magnificent structure and the setting here is tremendous.

Having had a nice walk and a good relax to read my book, I headed off to my hotel. It’s a little place right out of the way in the countryside about 2 miles from the river.

But I’m not alone here- not at all. There’s a 1944 Dodge Lorry – a veteran of the US Army parked here in the barn by the side of my room. It’s certainly the right hotel for me, isn’t it?

And my room is nice and cosy too. This was a good choice.

Tea tonight was something so simple that I’m really surprised that I have never ever considered it before. It’s so easy too, especially in a hotel bedroom and I shall be doing this kind of thing more often.

Half a tin of potatoes, half a tin of mixed vegetables, half a tin of mushrooms and some lettuce all mixed up in salad dressing. Followed by a soya dessert and a chocolate soya drink, with one of these packets of fruit-and-nut mix.

Simple, effective and healthy. You can’t say fairer than that.

And I’ve had a shower, washed my undies and now I’m settling down for the night. See you in the morning.

Tuesday 6th December 2016 – SO HERE I AM …

… back home again to stay for a few days if I can last out. The first time that I will have stopped here since November last year.

And I wish that I wasn’t here either. The internet is down, the ‘phone isn’t working, the room is covered in dust, some animal has made it inside and made a mess that I shall have to clear up. It’s all so depressing.

I lit the fire and that immediately awoke a hibernating fly that has been buzzing around my head all night. I can’t find half of the stuff that I need for cooking so it was a very rudimentary meal that I had, cooked in the oven bit of the woodstove so that’s something, I suppose. But I can’t see me being here for long.

On a more positive note, all that I can say about these Ace Hotels is that they live up to their names. I’ve paid twice the price for conditions and facilities that haven’t been as good as this. I had a really good sleep and was off on my travels again during the night, although you are probably eating your breakfast this morning so I’ll spare you the details.

Breakfast was superb too. In fact, everything about it was definitely good value for money from my point of view.

When they threw me out I went to the Tax Office and found that my hospital payments are all up-to-date which is good news. I did a little shopping and then headed out to Evaux-les-Bains. I was early so I tidied up a little (yes, just a little) in Caliburn. The garage where I have to go is a body shop as you might expect, and he had an old Ford Vedette V8 awaiting attention.

These are copies of 1940s American cars sold by Ford France, and when that company was nationalised after World War II, Simca took over the plant and designs and carried on making them. Simca Vedettes are reasonably common, but a Ford is rare.

So we have a plan for the repair, and he’s going to have a look at the rust that’s appearing on the nearside sill while he’s at it. I’m entitled to borrow a car while the repair work is being done, so I may as well have everything done all at once.

From there I had a delightful meander through the countryside. The wheel bearing is by now driving me mad so I went to see the garagiste there and we had a chat. He can fit Caliburn in Wednesday afternoon and Thursday which is good for me – it means that I can hit the road Friday night. He’s going to find me a hire car for a couple of days while Caliburn is receiving attention.

I’ll nip into Montlucon tomorrow morning and take two wheels with me. If the tyres have arrived, i’ll have them fitted. If not, I’ll leave the wheels and go back for them in the hire car. That means that I’ll spend the first part of the morning fitting Caliburn’s winter tyres on the front.

That’s what I should have done in the first place.

Saturday 1st OCTOBER 2016 – I HAD NOTHING …

… like as good a night as I have had on the others that I stayed here. For some reason I couldn’t put the blankets straight on the bed and it was all very uncomfortable. That rather disappointed me. And I was wide-awake by 05:40 too – something that hasn’t happened for a good few days.

But at least I got to see the sunrise for once, and it really was beautiful. Not quite the same as it had been in Greece three years ago, but beautiful nevertheless.That cheered me up for the morning.

I’d been on my travels too. There was some kind of meeting going on – a reward, effectively, for people who had worked for quite a while at a certain company – and this involved staying at a hotel. I’d arrived and been given my key so off I went to find my room – and that took ages to find. Eventually I discovered the room and went in – to find that the bed was all heaped up any old how. And there was a suitcase in there, belonging to someone else. I went back to reception to complain, and it turned out that we were having to share rooms. I wasn’t at all impressed with this and made quite a fuss about it. Eventually the organiser, a young girl, came over to chat with me and I told her precisely what I thought. She added that the place was dirty and totally unfit for what she had planned, and so was intending not to pay them a penny for what we had – or hadn’t – received. Although that didn’t solve my problem.
From here I went as an observer to see something going on in an industrial city. Transport was the big problem here, with a huge Ship Canal that passed by somewhere in the distance and all goods had to be trans-shipped onto railway trains. Some young guy had the idea of building a feeder canal to the city so that barges could sail up the ship canal straight into the city without any unloading at all. So he engaged a firm of contractors who built it, but not how I would have finished it off because he brought it to finish a row or so behind the main street, with buildings in the way. I would have knocked down the buildings and brought the canal basin up to the main street. But then he was given the bill. he was expecting a bill of a couple of million. The bill was in fact 50 million and he started to have a major panic about how was he ever going to pay it off and as yet no freight had actually sailed up his canal.

I was alone again at breakfast but ended up having a really good chat with mine host. But soon enough I was back in my room resting. I’m dismayed at just how easy I’m becoming tired these days, but it can’t be helped, I suppose. At least I’m here.

When lunchtime approached I hit the road, and headed off westwards to Franquelin. That’s a village on the coast halfway towards Baie Comeau. It’s situated at the base of a steep valley and it was where I had my run-in with the farces of law and order the other day.

This isn’t the modern road into the village by the way. The steep drop to the concrete bridge over the river looks fairly modern to me, and the village is canted off to the side alongside the river. This could well therefore be a previous incarnation of Highway 138 from a bygone time.

Looking back in the direction from which the road comes, you can see the road snaking along the side of the river. There is a bridge across the river way in the distance and I was musing to myself that this was the way that the road crossed the river back in the olden days. I was tempted to go for a look but there was a huge hole in the middle of the road where the local council was doing some work.

And another thing that you will notice is that autumn has arrived. The leaves on the trees are turning. It’s the best time of the year to come to Canada, as I have said before.

My landlord and I had discussed old vehicles, and he had told me that here in Franquelin there were a couple of old first-generation snowmobiles. I was half-hoping to see an early Bombarider such as the one that we saw at Goose Bay back in 2010.

I was rather disappointed not to see one of those, but I wasn’t disappointed to see this machine. I’m not sure of the make or model of this machine and it doesn’t appear to be as antique as I was hoping to find, but it’s certainly unusual and quite rare enough these days. I’d have gone over to have a look at it but the gates were all locked up and there were people around.

No such problems with this machine. This was parked up at the side of the town’s workshop in full view.

Anyone of my age will have seen one of these before. In Europe this would be a piste-basher, used on the ski slopes for flattening down the snow and also for transporting goods and supplies about.

It is a Skidozer 302, made apparently by the Bombardier company, and probably dates from the 1970s, not that I would know very much about it, and I would gladly learn more if anyone would care to communicate with me.

Back on the modern main highway and there’s a small pull-in at the side of the road just here, with a couple of tables. This is where I stopped for lunch, with the lovely view along the coast back in the direction that had travelled.

I had company for part of the time – a woman walking her dog came over for a chat, and someone in a nearby house was playing music so loud that it probably vould have been heard in Montreal.

And the bread that I had bought yesterday in Baié-Trinité was totally disgusting.I shan’t be shopping there again.

I drove on towards Baie Comeau and nipped down to Alcoa’s wharf to see if there was anything moored there.

I was in luck, because we did have a ship here. The Federal Nakagawa it is, a bulk carrier of 20,000 tons on her way from Jamaica to Toledo in the USA, on the Great Lakes via half a dozen or so ports along the St Lawrence.

I thought that she might have been the CSL ship that I had encountered on the St Lawrence while I was on the ferry from Matane the other day, but she didn’t arrive here until the 29th, and so she’s ruled out.

usually, in the bay there are half a dozen ships queueing up to unload, but there were none today. But in the main port is the Africaborg, a ship of the Wagenborg Line. She’s not as big as she looks, being of only 12,000 tons and built in 2007. She’s come here from Ulsan in Korea, from where she set sail on 27th August.

Long-term readers of this rubbish will recall that when we were here in 2010 there was also a Wagenborg ship here in the docks but I can’t now remember the name of that ship

Apart from seeing the Africaborg in the docks, I had an interesting walk around the harbour here at Baie Comeau. Winter is approaching and there was something of a rush to remove boats from the water.

I had a very good time watching them try to load up a diesel-powered yacht onto a yacht trailer, and that was very interesting to see. It might be a surprise to you but I’ve never seen this done before so I was quite keen to watch them do it. But while I was watching them, I had an interruption.

My friend Rhys from South Carolina was on the phone. It’s the first time this year that I’ve heard his dulcet tones so I was quite keen to speak to him.

And while Rhys and I were busy chatting about his bus (he’s converting a redundant school bus into a mobile home) and the solar energy system that he’s installing in it, I was busy watching them remove the yacht. It was quite an art to drive (because it was using diesel propulsion) in between the stakes of the trailer and winch itself tightly onto the cradle so that they could pull the boat out of the water with the lorry and park it up for the winter.

And as our conversation rambled on, they pulled the yacht clear of the water and a couple of guys there gave it a thorough inspection.

And then they reversed the trailer back down into the water, slackened off the tethering ropes, re-positioned the yacht so that, presumably, it fitted better on the cradle, re-tightened the tethering ropes and pulled it out of the water again.

This time it passed its inspection and they towed it off around to the hardstanding at the side where, presumably, it will over-winter.

By now, the battery was flat in my telephone and I’d lost contact with Rhys, so I went off on the prowl to the other side of the docks, with a certain aim in my mind.

Baie Comeau is famous for having a small isolated railway network which presumably transports wood and pulp about. It’s not as isolated as people might think though, because there’s a rail ferry over to Matane where it connects with the Canadian National railway network (or such of it that remains after the decimation of the country’s rail network in the 1980s).

There are some railway sidings on the dockside and a couple of old diesel locomotives that move the railway wagons around. This is one of them. It’s SOPOR 4998, a General Motors GP38, one of the very last built and dating from November 1971.

And SOPOR? It’s the Societe Du Port Ferroviaire De Baie-Comeau.

I’ve actually been looking in the past for the dock from where the rail ferries leave, and I managed to track it down today, narrowly avoiding being squidged by a line of cars coming off the car ferry that had arrived a few minutes ago.

I couldn’t go over for a closer inspection because it’s all fenced off. But that’s it just over there, neatly hidden behind the installations for the car ferry. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a ship here, but you can’t have everything

In fact, the port of Baie Comeau is nothing like as busy as it used to be before Highway 138 along the north shore was completed in the 1960s. In those days it was the base for all kinds of goelettes, the boats that used to sail from village to village along the coast transporting supplies, ferrying people about, and returning with the output of the crafts carried on in the various villages.

Nowadays, there’s not even one coastal boat that calls here.

I mentioned wood and pulp just now, didn’t I? Baie Comeau owes its existence, like most of the towns on the North Shore, to forest products and the town was created almost from nothing in the 1930s when they began to exploit the timber in the interior of the region to make newsprint.

It was someone called Colonel Robert McCormick, who was the publisher of the Chicago Tribune newspaper in the USA who created the Quebec North Shore Paper Company to exploit the timber resources of the area for wood-pulp for his journals, and this is the modern pulp mill.

I went off to the shops, which are situated a couple of miles outside the town for a reason that seems totally bizarre to me. I arrived just in time to be thrown out of Walmart which, for reasons known only to itself, closes early on Saturdays. The other supermarkets have more realistic opening hours so the Maxi at the other end of the mall was where I did my shopping.

And why is shopping in North America so boring?

Well, when you’ve seen one bunch of shops you’ve seen a mall.

I’ll get my coat.

Heading back to town again, I went to play “hunt the railway line”.

I had visions of it disappearing way into the wilderness where trains would come back laden with lumber, but it seems to peter out here in the middle of the big industrial estate and I’ve no idea why. I went off to see if I could see anything else that might be railway-related, but there was nothing at all. I shall have to make certain enquiries at a later date in this respect. it wasn’t ‘arf disappointing.

But anyway, by now it was going dark and it was teatime. Seeing as how Godbout is so isolated and I’m never likely to be able to find my Sunday night pizza anywhere in the vicinity, I decided that I would have a Saturday night pizza from the restaurant at the traffic lights.

I ate it in the darkness on the way out of town. It was totally overpriced and totally disgusting but beggars can’t be choosers at moments like this. It was after all the only place in town.

Once I’d organised that, I headed off back to my little room in Godbout.

And here’s something else over which we can ponder.

These are the roadworks on the bridge over the river at Godbout and I know that I’ve mentioned them before. But on the way back tonight (I was coming in the opposite direction) we had some really weird goings-on. The lights on my side were on red so I waited, and a red pickup came through from the other direction, turned round and went back down again, even though the lights were against him.

And then we had a lorry coming the other way that had clearly burnt the red light because it was touch-and-go as to whether I would block him in as my light changed to green. He made it through with about a foot and half a second to spare otherwise he would have had to reverse all the way back downhill again.

And serve him right too.

Thursday 22nd September 2016 – WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT!

There I was, lying in bed trying to go to sleep, and time was drawing on. I remember 02:30 and I remember 02:45 and I hadn’t been to sleep at all. I’m not sure when I finally dropped off.

When the alarm went off at 06:00 as usual, I was wasted. It was a good job that there was a repeater at 06:15 and that was almost as bad. But nevertheless I crawled out of bed and ended up chatting away to a friend of mine on the internet.

I managed a shower and that was excellent, especially the shampoo which was the best that I have ever used, and then I hit the streets.
Before I left the hotel, I went down to the end of the drive and took a photo. The town of Miramichi is on the Miramichi River, one of the longest in New Brunswick, and it flows by on the other side of the road from where the Fundy Line Motel is.

It was such a nice day too as you can tell from the photos.

Having handed in the key I headed off to Tim Horton’s down the road – the first time that I’ve been to a Tim Horton’s this year. I treated myself to a coffee and a couple of cinnamon and raisin bagels, and then went out to face the world, still not feeling too much like it.

First stop was only a mile or so up the road towards town. This chimney here had attracted my attention and so I pulled up for a butcher’s.

There was a park here, called the French Fort Cove and I didn’t remember this at all when I was here before. But that was easily explained – it wasn’t here.

Where we are is in a former quarry that was mined, and there were also iron workings here (hence the chimney) with all of the output being loaded onto ships just down there at the cove. These workings eventually closed down and the land was given to the town in 2002, being subsequently developed as the park.

While I was here, I heard in the distance the familiar wail of a diesel locomotive. No idea where it was, which was a shame, otherwise I might have gone a-chasing after it.

Instead, I continued on into the town to find a parking place by the river where I might be able to have a good shot of the bridge across the Miramichi river.

And if you are thinking that the bridge looks familiar, we have seen something like this before. The Seal Island bridge on Cape Breton Island over which we have driven on several occasions was built to the same design.

This is the Centennial Bridge, so called because it was opened in 1967, the centennial of the formation of the Confederation of Canada in 1867. Previously, there was a ferry, latterly the Romeo and Juliet, that plied its trade across the river here.

I suppose that I must have travelled over the bridge when I came here in 2003 but I really don’t remember it. And do I decided that I would put that right today, and to take a photograph to prove it.

And so off I went, onto the highway and across the bridge. And when I reached the other side, I turned round and came back, with Strawberry Moosetaking a fine photograph of the view from the top.

But coming back wasn’t as easy as it might have been. Half of the population of Miramichi was in Tim Horton’s, and the other half was driving across the end of the road where I was trying to turn round.

Having done that, I headed off down the coast for a nice leisurely drive to the sea, seeing as it was such a beautiful day

Round about 13:00 I stopped for my butties at Tracadie. I found a really nice spec at the side of the river where I could sit in comfort and read my book.

And it was such a nice day that I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes to relax in the sun. And there I was, gone, for a good half-hour. In fact, it took me quite a while to sort myself out. And that’s not a surprise seeing as how I’d had such a bad night previously.

But I was eventually back on the road continuing my drive along the Acadian Trail, and took the deviation out towards Shippegan. After all, if there’s anything to do with deviation, then in the words of the late, great Bob Doney “I’m your man!”.

The road down to Shippegan leaves the main highway near a beautiful church situated on the banks of a large river and the scene was certainly quite photogenic.

We’ve noted before that Canada seems to be littered with old Jaguars and we keep on stumbling across them. It did occur to me that we haven’t noticed one yet this year and so here’s the first, at Saint Simon, with a boat painted in the “Star of Acadia” in the background.

We can’t miss out an opportunity to photograph it – just to prove the point that, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … at one time the UK was selling its cars all over the world. 20 years later, it couldn’t sell a single car in its own country.

The collapse of the British motor industry is a spectacular example of the decline and fall of the United Kingdom, and those Brexiters hoping to bask in the glory of the United Kingdom’s future in a free market economy are are heading for an extremely nasty shock.

From here, I headed off to the coast and Caraquet. I’ve found another cheap motel, the Motel Bel Air, and I’ll be staying here for the night. No microwave unfortunately, so I’ll have to eat out tonight, but apart from that the room looks as if it’s another one of these “good value for money” places.

I hope that I can have a good sleep tonight.

Wednesday 21st September 2016 – I’M BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN

After something of a disturbed night last night, I was up and about fairly early on. And after a light breakfast, I started cleaning the motel room and tidying up the place, as well as chatting to a couple of people on the internet. And by chucking-out time, 10:00, I was ready to go.

I dumped the rubbish and took back the keys, and then headed off into town and the Sobeys supermarket for some shopping for lunch. And as most North American motels these days have microwaves, I also bought a bag of spuds and some more beans. It’s as well to be prepared.

I headed off northwards along the Arcadia Trail, and the first place that I visited was Cap Caissie. This is a small fishing port at the mouth of Shediac Bay.

It looked as if the tide was going out here so we’d be having a beach here in a couple of hours. And if you look at the weather that we were having this morning it would have been nice to have hung around for a while and done some sunbathing. But I had other things to do.

There’s a harbour here at Cap Caissie were no boats in there this morning, but there was a refrigerated lorry standing by.

Talking to the driver, it turns out that it’s lobster that is the catch here, and all 14 boats registered at the port are out at the catch. The driver was telling me that the catch hasn’t been so good this summer but over the last week or so things have been pretty good.

From the port at Cap Caissie there’s a good view of a lighthouse half a mile or so away. And so when you see a street name – Chemin du Lighthouse or Lighthouse Lane, you have to go for a look (or, at least, one of us does).

And if you think that Lighthouse Lane is going to lead you to the lighthouse you are mistaken because nothing could be farther from the truth, as you can see in this photo.

Further on round the trail is the mouth of the Cocagne river, and guarding the entrance at Cap Cocagne is another port.

This is another small commercial port and there is plenty of lobster fishing, judging by all of the lobster pots out there in the estuary, but there’s a considerable presence of pleasure boats here too.

As an aside, the word Cocagne in France has several meanings, two of which are completely contradictory.

You have the Pays de Cocagne, which is the Land of Milk and Honey where there are abundant harvests, a warm climate and all that kind of thing, and then we have the Mât de Cocagne which is the greasy pole that you try to climb up but you always keep on sliding down to the bottom

One of the games that we play while we are out on our travels in North America is “100 uses for a redundant school bus”.

School buses are only allowed by law to carry school kids for a certain number of years and then they have to be retired from school operation. There’s not much of a market for old school buses and so you find them littering the North American countryside not doing very much.

Here’s one from the 1950s or 1960s that’s been painted white and is being used as a summer house by the side of the sea. That’s certainly a novel way of making use of one.

After lunch by the river at Bouctouche I went for a drive around the Bay of Bouctouche. We’ve been here before a few years ago and so instead of the famous sand spit, I’ll show you something else.

This is actually a shop that’s been extended by the addition of a bow and a stern from some kind of wooden seafaring vessel and a couple of masts have been plated in it.

I was hoping to find out more information about it so I went to make enquiries, but despite all of the doors being open and the stock being lined up outside for inspection, there wasn’t a soul about. That made me think that maybe this was what became of the Mary Celeste.

That wasn’t all that there was to see around here either. Just across the road were a coupe of old motor vehicles. We’ve not had too many of them to date.

The coach is an old Prevost that looks as if it might have been built in the late 1940s or something like that, and the car is a Dodge that dates from 1928. It’s been painted in the colours of Arcadia, which was the name of the area around the New Brunswick – Nova Scotia border during the time of the French occupation.

Further on along the coast you can catch a glimpse of Prince Edward island away across the Northumberland Strait.

With a telephoto lens you can come up with some kind of shot of the coastline over there, and the Prince Edward Island wind farm. And note the wind turbines too because one thing that you will notice about New Brunswick is that there aren’t any, despite the magnificent weather.

New Brunswick is still tangled up in the mess of the Lepreau Nuclear Power Station and trying desperately to go to any lengths to justify the massive expenditure that has been poured into yet another one of the Province’s white elephants.

We saw this bridge near Rexton back in 2013 and so I won’t post it again, but I do remember making a remark about the state of the carpentry.

And so I can show you a photo of one part of the bridge as it is today, and you cans ee how much it has deteriorated. and I thought that it was bad three years ago. I wouldn’t like to be driving on this bridge in another three years time

I stopped off on the edge of Rexton to fuel up – Strider still has his unhealthy fuel consumption – and this ship in the Richibucto River caught my attention. I went across to photograph it.

It’s not a real ship of course. it was constructed in 2003 as a symbol of Rexton’s ship-building industry. They reckon that in a period from 1819 to the turn of the 20th Century some 105 ships were built here, of which 94 were built in just one shipyard – that owned by the Jardine family.

My road north took me to the town of St Louis de Kent, a town that has a claim to fame in that the world’s largest Acadian flag is flown in the town.

St Louis de Kent is quite a hotbed of Acadian nationalism, a movement that took hold at the end of the 19th Century, mainly due to the efforts of Marcel-François Richard, to resurrect the heritage of the Acadian settlers – the French settlers of the mid-18th Century who were abandoned by the French empire during the Seven Years War.

Whilst no-one will deny the events that occurred subsequent to the fall of Acadia, no-one should lose sight of the fact that we are discussing a period of history 250 years ago and it’s a mistake to judge historical events by today’s standards.

Many colonists of French origin were indeed expelled from Acadia, but only those (at first, anyway) who refused to take an oath of allegiance to the King of England. But there was nothing unusual in asking citizens of captured colonists to take such an oath and even more so when a war between the two colonial powers was still taking place.

Displacement of recalcitrant colonists was nothing but normal behaviour back in those days and if you remember being with me in the Czech Republic last May, we discussed the displacement of recalcitrant Germans of many generations of settlement from the Sudetenland as late as 1948 – 200 years after the displacement of the Acadians – and no-one thought that what took place in Eastern Europe after World War II and which affected 30 million people was a major issue.

That’s not to take issue, of course, with the cultural traditions of the descendants of the Acadian settlers – I’m all in favour of celebrating culture and tradition – but St Louis de Kent is another place where all of the information on the tourist information boards is written in nothing but French – and that’s in an officially bilingual province too.

There’s a statue here to Marguerite Bourgeoys and we all know who she is. We visited the house of her birth in Troyes in 2014 and we’ve mentioned her many times on our journeys round Montreal.

She organised the women and girls of Montreal with their religious and educational needs during the crises of the early days of the colony there, and it was the organisation that she founded, the Convent of the Sisters of the Congregation of Our Lady, that was asked to open a convent here in the late 19th Century.

You’ve all seen this place before. It’s the Fundy Line Motel in Miramichi where I stayed in winter 2003 and this is where I ended up last night.

It’s quite basic and a little tired but then so are its prices, and it’s scrupulously clean. It scores very highly on my value-for-money index and I’m happy to stay here for the night.

It has a microwave, which is good news, for I have a bag of potatoes and a can of beans, as well as a vegan burgerleft over from when I was in Shediac.

That’s me organised for tonight anyway.

Wednesday 14th September 2016 – AND AS FOR LAST NIGHT …

… while I was in bed and asleep early enough, I had to make a little trip down the corridor at about 00:40 and that was that until 04:45. Not the best night, but not too bad, is it?

I’d been on my travels again too. There was this wartime motorcycle, in yellow desert camouflage paint, and there were three of us on it – a woman driver, her young child as a passenger, and me bringing up the rear on the pillion. We rode, with her driving, quite some distance into Europe, and then she asked me to take over. This became rather embarrassing because I couldn’t make it move. It seemed that there was too much slack in the throttle cable so winding the throttle on was just taking up the slack. Some man came by and gave me some advice and lent me some rubber gloves to pick up the front end and pull it over a wall (I’m not sure how I intended to do that, with the weight of the bike) – and then the man had a flash of inspiration. He reckoned that this bike was a wartime European Army bike, and he picked up the telephone to call some kind of registry. It turned out that we had bike n°60, which was used by a Belgian by the name of Crabbe, from Liège. And he had died in 1960, so he was interested in how come this girl had obtained the bike.

Breakfast was rather late this morning and so while I was waiting I loaded up Strider with everything that I was planning to take to me, and once I’d eaten, I hit the road.

I didn’t make it very far though before I shuddered to a stop. only as far as Woodstock in fact.

On the edge of town isn’t darkness – at least not at that time of morning, but a car body repair shop and here sitting in the parking area was this magnificent beast. We’ve not had a Car of the Day yet in North America.

It’s actually a Buick Special and dates, according to the guy in the garage, to 1937. The bodywork is in good condition and although the interior is rather worn and tatty, it’s complete and undamaged. I need to empty my suitcase to take this home with me.

I stopped off at the Atlantic Superstore in Woodstock in order to buy stuff for lunch – including some hummus of course but also some vegan cheese seeing as how the stuff that I have is a little bit on the old side (it’s at least a year old, you know). They had a new variety of vegan cheese on offer and so I decided that I would give that a try.

And that reminds me – where does a native American do his shopping?
Answer – in a Siouxperstore.

Now here’s something upon which the Brexiters can reflect for the next 50 years, and that is that the Canadian Prairies are the breadbasket of the world. More grain is produced here than almost anywhere else in the world and with the economies of scale that are practised here on the huge farms, the costs of production compared to a British farm are negligible. No-one can produce wheat as cheaply as the Canadians. And so the cost of a baguette here in a Canadian superstore is $2:89, which is about £1:90. In a French supermarket, it is €0:75 – or about £0:65.

Leaving the EU might save the silly Brits £350 million (which, the Brexit leaders have now decided, won’t be given to the NHS despite using that reason as a major plank of the Brexit campaign) but the European agricultural subsidies will go. And then listen to the Brexiters complain about the dramatic increase in the price of food.

The European Union’s Common Agricultural Policy comes in for some severe handling in the popular press, but the writers and readers of these articles have never compared the price of food in the EU with the price of food in the rest of the developed world.

And so abandoning another good rant for a while, I drove on South-West.

At Fredericton I called at Value Village, the Co-operative Charity Shop. I managed to pick up a copy of Pierre Berton’s Arctic Grail. Berton was one of the leading Canadian historians and wrote his books in a very engaging style, although occasionally he did manage to slip into a little bit of polemic when he wasn’t paying attention. I’ve quite a few books by him now.

With all of the roadworks going on at the top end of Fredericton I missed the turning to Home Depot and ended up back on the bypass. So never mind – I’ll have to catch up with that in due course on the way back.

Halfway down to Moncton I stopped off to make my lunch. And this is where the rain started. You can tell that I’m going to the seaside for my holidays, can’t you?

As the rain came down heavier and heavier, I arrived at Shediac. This is where I’m going to be staying for a week or so.

And it was here that we had a major catastrophe.

Looking for a motel, I drove out through the town and not finding anything, I went to do a u-turn in a lane at the side of the road. And as I was turning round, the edge of the road collapsed under the weight of Strider and we slid irrevocably into the ditch.

No matter what I tried, I couldn’t extricate myself from here. But I wasn’t alone for long. A woman driving by stopped, and offered me a lift down to a nearby garage. They came out with a breakdown truck and within 5 minutes, had lifted me out of the ditch. My stupidity cost me $60:00, but it could have been much worse, and you have to pay to learn.

The tourist information here found a place for me to stay. Seeing as how it’s now out of season there are some reasonable deals going around and I’m in a studio, with a bedroom, living room, bathroom and fully-equipped kitchen. It’s lovely and I would be quite happy to live here for good, I’ll tell you that.

Having installed myself, I went out into the rainstorm and down to the supermarket in the town where, for the first time since I don’t know when, I did a week’s shopping. And the lack of European food subsidies didn’t half hurt the pocket. And with having a freezer here, I could buy ice-cream (well, sorbet) and stuff like that. I could really become used to this kind of life.

And back at the flat I made myself a pizza for tea, and it’s been a while since I’ve done this too, isn’t it? And followed by some tinned fruit salad and ice-cream for pudding.

Now, I’m heading off for a reasonably-early night in my comfortable (for it really is) bed where I’m going to sleep until the sun comes back.

Sunday 19th June 2016 – NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!

I had to leave the comfort of my stinking pit once during the night, but I was soon back in it and fast asleep. And the next thing that I remember were the bells of the local church summoning the faithful. I tried to count the peals of the bells but was easily defeated by the crazy campanologist so I had to look at my phone to find out the time.

Ohh yes, 09:47. That’s what I call a lie-in. When was the last time that I had a decent sleep like that?

I’d been on my travels too, driving a sports car in some kind of rally. as far as field positions had gone, we had finished down the field but bearing in mind the individual start times, we were well out in front in the classifications and I was expecting, with all kinds of confidence, to leave the field behind me the next day. But on setting off, the tractor-digger that I was towing behind me suffered a collapsed digger arm and that seriously delayed me as it wouldn’t raise back up. Of course, the idea of switching on the engine to start up the hydraulic pump never ever occurred to me.

After breakfast, I went for a pleasant stroll down to the boulangerie down the street – the one that I looked in the other day – for my baguette. I’ve run out of hummus so it’s vegan cheese, tomato and olives today for lunch. For a change, it was quite nice weather outside but it soon clouded over. The weather is really miserable right now and no-one would ever believe that it’s flaming June.

And while we’re on the subject of vegan cheese, I forgot to post a photo of my exciting discovery from several days ago. So now’s the chance to catch up with the outstanding issue.

As you can see, it’s the same brand of vegan cheese that I discovered a month or so ago, but this time it’s a Cheddar cheese substitute. THis is quite an exciting discovery and will definitely make my cheese butties taste much better.

This afternoon, I’ve been on at the Titanic public enquiry again – the American version. Today, I’ve been reading a great deal of nonsense from some of the passengers – the most important part of the disaster according to one woman was a sailor sitting next to her in a lifeboat lighting up his pipe, and another passenger regretting that sailors were put in the lifeboats to row and that their places should have been given to some of the “gallant and heroic First-Class male passengers who gave their lives so that those wretches could escape”.

But I have said before that I have no time for Senator Alden Smith who chaired the enquiry, but this nonsense about “what is an iceberg made of” has finally been put to bed.

You remember that we said the other day that the American Press of the day ridiculed him for asking the question – on the basis that “everyone knows that icebergs are made of ice, which is water”. But we had an Arctic expert giving evidence today who stated that icebergs are full of rocks, and it’s those rocks that could easily split the iron sides of a ship and cause the damage that led to the sinking of the ship. So Senator Alden Smith had the last laugh after all, although you would never expect the American Press to apologise.

It was such a nice evening that I went for a walk into town. And I’m glad that I did because I encountered a motorbike that I didn’t recognise, so I went for a closer look.

This is a Hercules, a German make of motorcycle – a company that was famous for producing a Wankel rotary engined bike and which ceased production in 1996. There was nothing to indicate anything more about this bike, but it’s a single-cylinder four-stroke of about 125cc, something like that.

We don’t have a classification for old motorcycles so I’ll file it under “old cars”.

The Town Hall in the city centre looked absolutely splendid in the late evening sun and was well-worth a photograph. It does make you wonder just how splendid the city must have been before the Germans burnt it to the ground in 1914 and blew it to bits in 1940.

Now that I have my vegan cheese I could go for a pizza, after all, it is Sunday. And I had a beautiful vegetarian pizza that went down well. And a lovely walk back home where I polished off the rest of the cake with some soya custard-substitute.

Now, I’m going to have an early night. I have a busy day tomorrow at the hospital.

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality

Category Archives: old cars

Tuesday 19th September 2017 – HAVING BEEN …

Monday 28th August 2017 – I WONDER IF …

Sunday 30th July 2017 – HOW LONG IS IT …

Sunday 9th July 2017 – GRIBOUILLE …

Sunday 14th May 2017 – THIS NEW MICROWAVE THING …

Tuesday 18th April 2017 – IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME …

Friday 17th March 2017 – THAT WAS ANOTHER …

Thursday 16th March 2017 – I THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE …

Wednesday 15th March 2017 – THAT WASN’T A VERY NICE …

Tuesday 6th December 2016 – SO HERE I AM …

Saturday 1st OCTOBER 2016 – I HAD NOTHING …

Thursday 22nd September 2016 – WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT!

Wednesday 21st September 2016 – I’M BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Wednesday 14th September 2016 – AND AS FOR LAST NIGHT …

Sunday 19th June 2016 – NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!

Your reactions

Excellent

Useful

Interesting

Weird

Surprising

Boring