Tag Archives: place d’armes

Wednesday 14th June 2017 – AFTER THE EXERTIONS …

… of the last couple of days, it will come as no surprise to regular readers of this rubbish that, just like the mathematician named Hall, today I have done three-fifths of five-eights of … errr … nothing.

Mind you, apart from being worn out before I went to bed, what I got up to during the night tired me out even further. And I’m not talking about Percy Penguin, who as I have said before, didn’t appear in these pages half as much as she deserved to when her presence was relevant.

We were off on our travels during the night and we had a Spanish flavour to them. I was trying to negotiate something from someone in a Spanish scrapyard, or something to do with bits of Spanish vehicles. My Spanish was, as usual execrable and I was making extremely heavy weather of it all in fact, we really DID have an occasion like this in real life back in 1997.
From there I pressed on , in my electric vehicle that bore a strong resemblance to a Sinclair C5, except that it only went half as fast. Some young bond guy with an unkempt beard was at the side of the road and when he saw me coming he stuck out his thumb for a lift. But I was certain that he was walking faster than I was driving, so I told him that my 300-watt motor was struggling to pull me along, never mind anyone else as well.
I ended up at one of these “alternative lifestyle” meetings that I used to go to when I first arrived in the Auvergne (and stopped going to when I – very quickly – worked out that they were more capitalist than the capitalists) where I ended up giving away some of my possessions. Unfortunately the stuff that I wanted to keep was mixed up in there too and some African girl took my toaster, which would be no use to her at all as it had a British plug on it.

And this of course reminds me. Once a month or thereabouts in the Combrailles is a “free market” where people take stuff that they no longer need and give it away to others. And the story goes, so I have been told, that one woman always comes, always takes a few things, and always ends up selling them on the internet.

Yes, that lot of New Age people in the Combrailles were a HUGE disappointment, but that’s all behind me now.

This morning I couldn’t find my medication so I had to break open a new collection of stuff. I ended up convincing myself that I must have left it all behind in Leuven but then a few hours later I had a brainwave, and had a look in one of the inner pockets in my rucksack. And sure enough …

Lunch was up on the clifftop overlooking the harbour, sitting on the wall in the burning sun. And after about an hour or so, the heat drove me back inside. It’s quite exposed out there, but it really was nice.

Tea was something quick thrown together. A pile of pasta, a tin of peas and carrots and a tin of runner beans. When it was cooked, it was fried in olive oil and garlic with some herbs added for good measure, and a dollop of balsamic vinegar. And how delicious was that?

And that’s your lot. Nothing of excitement at all. And now I’m for bed.

Tomorrow is a new day and I’ll try my best to accomplish something.

Tuesday 13th June 2017 – SO HAVING SLEPT …

… the Sleep Of The Dead until all of about 05:00, I was quickly up and about and under the shower for a good soaking. And having finally attacked the half-baguette and the jam that I had bought the other day, I was ready for anything.

Yes, quite!

Packing was exciting. I’m sure that I’m taking back more than I went out with, not including the two pairs of trousers. And so ramming it into the rucksack and the shopping bag was … errr … exciting. I wish that I had brought a larger bag with me now.

I was out early to the station because there’s a supermarket at the back where I was going to buy some lunch stuff (no tomatoes unfortunately because Bane of Britain seems to have forgotten to bring the sharp knife that lives in his rucksack pocket) but the presence of an express direct to Brussels-Midi on the platform prompted me to change my mind, and I legged it up the stairs mucho-el-rapido.

Early in Brussels, I went to see if I could change my TGV ticket for one on the earlier train. For some reason, the SNCF on-line booking doesn’t recognise the 10:13 TGV and instead books me on the 11:13. That just gives me an hour or so to perform the Traversée de Paris and that’s pretty tight, especially when I don’t have Bourvil to carry my suitcases for me.

Luckily there was a place on the earlier train. One day there won’t be, and that will be the day that there will be perturbations on the Metro or the TGV will run late.

There was still a few minutes to spare so I popped to the Carrefour on the station and bought a baguette, a couple of pears and a bottle of water. It’s going to be a long, hot day.

The train pulled in a couple of minutes early and much to my surprise the door to my carriage was exactly where I was standing, so I was second on board.

And heaving – there wasn’t room to swing a cat, and the poor moggy that was in the carry-basket of the person in front of me had to stay cooped up.

We did have a moment of excitement though, when my baguette slid off the overhead rail and almost fell down the cleavage of the woman in front. She stuck it back on the rack, and bent it too for good measure.

But what’s all this about cleavages just now?

It didn’t take long to cross Paris on the metro, which it never does when you allow plenty of time, and it gave me a good opportunity to go for a little exploration.

There’s a bus from Paris-Montparnasse directly to Charles de Gaulle airport, so I tracked that down and made “certain enquiries”, and the SNCF also has a suitcase collection and delivery service, and that can be extremely advantageous as my health declines. I made “certain enquiries” about that, too.

My luck was in over at our side of the railway station. Here parked up at of the terminus platforms was a nez cassé, or “broken nose”.

These are the typical French SNCF electric locomotives built in the 1970s as part of the modernisation plans of the SNCF. They took the French railways to a new level, tanking along at a good 100 miles per hour without even drawing breath and despite being supplanted by the TGVs and being over 40 years old, most of them are still in service.

But it’s rare to find them over here. Their usual stamping ground is in the North-East of the country. That’s why I was so surprised to see one.

Nothing over 40 years old about our conveyance to Granville though. Not even 40 months old, these things.

It was totally heaving too, at least as far as Avranches, and for some reason I couldn’t make myself comfortable which is a change. And I was drifting in and out of sleep all the way up here. I’m not as young as I was. I didn’t do any work of any description, which is not like me as you all know.

But I was glad for the bottle of water because it really was a hot afternoon in the crowded train.

Bang on time we arrived, and so nice was the afternoon that instead of waiting for the bus, I set off to walk home.

Climbing the hill out of town was a struggle so I stopped for five minutes or so to admire the view. And this gorgeous sailing boat is in here today.

No idea of her name, but she seems to be registered in Granville so I shall have to make some further enquiries. But what wouldn’t I give for a lap around the bay in her?

And this reminds me of the story of the sea captain who bought the land at the bottom of a shallow bay in order to create a colony. But while only a mere handful of people expressed an interest, no-one would board his ship.

They all thought that his barque was worse than his bight.

Back here, I crashed out for a while and then made a quick tea out of tins. I wasn’t going to hang about because I really was tired. It took a lot out of me, these three days.

But at least on the train I can do it in three days. Not a chance of that if I were to drive. And it cost me just €195 for the trip. Diesel would have cost me €160, and then we have the autoroute tolls, a hotel each way at the mid-point and all of the stress.

No, going on the train is the way to go without a doubt.

Sunday 11th June 2017 – THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID …

… for this internal alarm clock thing that we are supposed to have. Here I was, due to get out of bed at 07:00 (and on a Sunday too!) and to be on the safe side I’d even set two alarms, and yet there I was, sitting bolt-upright in bed at 06:00 precisely.

Of course, that didn’t last too long and I was soon back under the covers until firstly David Bowie and secondly Billy Cotton did the business.

30 seconds under the shower was more-than-enough and then we had this urine performance thingy. And that’s a real performance when I can’t make the machine work. In the end, I had to empty away a half-bottle of tomato sauce and use that … "the bottle, not the sauce" – ed. That is really taking the p155.

I’d allowed myself an hour to walk to the station and so 20 minutes later, in the bright early morning sunshine, there I was. I’d even had time to stop to buy a baguette to eat with my couscous for lunch. I’m nothing if not prepared (although I do realise that I have forgotten my sponge bag, and I’ll probably realise that there are a few other things that I have forgotten by the time that we arrive in Leuven).

MY ticket from Granville to Paris for a journey of over three-hours costs me just €20:00 (eat your heart out, you Brits!) and this is the train that I take.

Probably not a year old, they are magnificent and I really enjoy the journey. But typing of a train as it’s clattering over the joints in the track is bollyd dficicltue, I’ll tell you.

Pulled into Paris bang on time (eat your heart … ditto) and the direct Metro to the Gare du Nord was open this time. Mind you, it was a hell of a hike to Line 4 and I don’t fancy that in August with Strawberry Moose in his suitcase.

And it was heaving too – and on a Sunday. Like sardines we were. But 40 minutes saw us at the Gare du Nord. I went outside to eat my baguette and couscous. And it was steaming out there too. It’s a long time since I’ve felt it so warm.

And while I was out there I was harassed by a couple of beggars and amused myself watching a pirate taxi driver try his best to tempt gullible tourists into his car. But I was impressed that the savoir-faire of tourists in the town has improved somewhat.

The TGV was packed to the gunwhales and it was stinking hot in there too despite the air-conditioning. You can’t really open the windows at 220 mph I suppose. And we arrived at Brussels-Midi just in time for me to leg it onto the 15:55 to Eupen, with the guard very kindly holding the door open for me.

I’m now installed in my cosy little room with very thin walls and a loud television next door. And Bane of Britain has done it again – forgetting that it’s Sunday and so he can’t go shopping and now he has no coffee, no water, no nothing.

But after a brief repose (because it’s 32°C here believe it or not) I went for a walk and found a shop open and that helped.

The walk did even more to wear me out and when I arrived back I crashed out definitively until … errrr … 20:40 too. And I have so much to do.

But I did manage to find food and so that’s not too bad, and now I’m going to crash out again.

But this thing about three hours or so to Paris on the SNCF does remind me of the story about the Texan in Ireland, looking at the small size of the fields.
“Do you know” he exclaimed. “I can get into my car and it would take me three days to drive across my field back in Texas”
“I know just what you mean” said an Irishman
“Do you really????” asked the Texan incredulously
“Ohh yes” replied the Irishman. “I used to have a car like that myself”.

Saturday 10th June 2017 – AND IF YOU THOUGHT …

… that yesterday was hot, then you should have been here today.

I slept right through to the alarm, and it was a struggle to leave my stinking pit, that’s for sure. And after breakfast, it was already so hot that I had all of the windows wide open in here. And I noticed that everyone else’s were opened too.

Fun times going down for the baguette. I met one of my neighbours coming back from town with a wheeled shopping basket thingy.
“You’re up early” I said.
“Been to the market” she replied. “Like to get it done early”.

In the newsagents “I’m not open until 09:00 tomorrow” he told me.
“That’s a shame” I replied. “I’ll be halfway to Paris by then”. Well, I won’t. Probably no more than about 4 or 5 miles or so down the line, but I won’t let a bit of poetic licence bother me.

On the way back, I noticed that the doors to the church were grand ouvert too. And just as I passed, the church organist struck up a couple of chords on the organ. It was just like something out of a Hammer Horror film – which is quite a good description from my neighbours’ point of view now that I’m living here.

It was round about here that I met my neighbour again, heading in the opposite direction. “I forgot my money” she explained. “I’ll have to go back and pay them as they all know me in town”.

Liz was next. “We’re going to Coutainville-Plage after lunch” she said. “Would you like to join us?”

So I made my butties, hit the streets, went round to the railway station to pick up my tickets for tomorrow (I’ve been caught out before by a non-working ticket machine) and went to the beach.

I found a secluded spot amongst the crowds, ate my butties in the glorious sunshine spread out on the sand on my blanket. I had a book with me too. It’s the story of the German U-boat offensive at the height of World War II – one month where the balance dramatically shifted to the Allies. It’s called Black May and, in the light of recent events, I would love to see a title more apposite than that.

Liz and Terry came along and we all relaxed in the sun watching two girls aged about 3 and 5 having loads of fun. Terry and Liz even went for a paddle.

I continued to read my book and to watch the people on the beach, including this guy struggling down to the water’s edge with what looked like a huge wing – presumably attempting to take off for the Iles de Chausey, or that’s what it looked like.

But in fact he was nothing more than one of these wind surfers, and he spent the next couple of hours, once he finally managed to launch his surf board, parading about just offshore.

We had a drink and then I came back here to finish off the rest of the pear sorbet. I have raspberry sorbet for when I come back.

Tea was out of a tin and now I’m relaxing ready for my trip tomorrow.

Leuven again. A nice change, isn’t it?

Friday 9th June 2017 – HOPPED OUT OF BED …

… nice and early, long before the alarm.

“Up (one, two) Down (one, two)”. Right, and now the other sock.

Yes, have to keep myself fit and active.

An early breakfast followed by some work on the computer, and then at 09:00 precisely, off to the LeClerc. I didn’t need much but still, it’s nice to get out and about.

On the way there we had an exciting moment when a Belgian motorist, seeing me coming, simply pulled out to pass a parked lorry. We aren’t having any of that so I blocked him off and made him reverse backwards. As he finally retreated and I ended up alongside him, I wound down my window and gave him a volley of verbal abuse, in Flemish.

Not for nothing did I spend a year living in Leuven.

You may or may not know this, but there were no driving tests in Belgium until 1973. You simply applied for a driving licence and you were given it. The driver was certainly old enough not to have taken a test. There’s the old French joke about Belgian driving licences being given away in packets of crisps and that’s certainly the case here.

At the LeClerc, we had another one of those “moments”. A woman was loading a pile of bread into her trolley.
“All you need now are two loaves and a pot of tea for 5,000” said our hero gallantly
The woman replied “What?”.
As Alfred Hitchcock once famously said to Kenneth Williams “it’s a waste of time trying to tell jokes to foreigners”.

LUnchtime was on the wall on the clifftop overlooking the harbour. It was really warm and beautiful out there. So much so that back here, for the first time, I felt hot in my apartment. I had to open all of the windows to make a current of air circulate through. If the sun can heat up solid granite walls one metre thick, then it must have been warm.

But it cooled down rapidly in the evening and I had to go round and close everything a little later.

An early night now after my beans, sausage and chips. And I’ll see you all in the morning … "not if we see you first" – ed.

Thursday 8th June 2017 – I DUNNO …

… what was going on this morning but there was a hell of a racket outside underneath my window.

When I went out for my baguette later, I found the reason why. There’s another school trip been decanted into the Old Town and they were assembling right underneath my window. 150 of the brats all told, noisy badgers.

And they were back at lunchtime to eat their butties too. SO I stayed indoors again, even though the wind has dropped down to more manageable proportions.

My living room by the way is the two windows on the first floor on the left of the photo.

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning – took me ages. And it wasn’t as if I’d had a late night last night either. But breakfast and a long hot shower and shave (and clean clothes) soon brought me round. But not that it did too much good because today was another day where I stayed in and did very little.

Tea was nice though. I took the oven chips out of the freezer a good hour before tea and switched the oven on for 15 minutes to warm up. The chips were … errr … reasonable.

So not having done much, I don’t feel as if I deserve to go to bed. But that’s where I’m going all the same. It’s shopping day tomorrow but I don’t need much as I’m not here for three days.

But then again, people say that I’m not all here all of the time, and who am I to argue with that?

Wednesday 7th June 2017 – PLUS CA CHANGE …

… plus c’est la même chose – or, “the more things change, the more things stay the same”.

And sure enough, so it is here. I was just about to get my fork stuck into my lunchtime baguette when the doorbell rang.
“Excuse me, but my car won’t start. I wonder if you would mind giving me a hand”.

And so that was that.

A neighbour with a flat battery, and Yours Truly to the rescue and in no time at all we had the neighbour up and running and on the way round to the garage for a new battery. Such is life.

But I suppose that this “good neighbour” thing is quite important when you live in a block of flats like this. You never know when I might be in need of a bit of help and if you have the reputation of being serviable as they say around here, then people are more inclined to help.

At least, that’s the theory. The practice is usually quite different as any good cynic can tell you. But it’s better to live in hope than die in despair.

The wind is still howling around out here, although not as badly as the last couple of days. And just for a change I was up and about long before the alarm went off and I was sitting down on the sofa after breakfast working when it sounded at 07:00. That’s not at all like me these days, is it?

Apart from that, I’ve been busy on the website and I’ve been also experimenting with a new feature on the 3D program that I use. You can make your own characters based on certain pre-designed meshes, and each mesh has its own setting that you can use to make props to fit it.

The props aren’t interchangeable between meshes but there is a script function that I’ve discovered that can be used to edit them so that they will interchange. I’ve only managed so far to make it work on a couple of meshes but unfortunately not the one that I usually use, but I’ll keep on going.

And I was experimenting with the animation function too. Usually, this sort of thing comes by trial and error but very occasionally the light comes on in your brain and this was what was happening yesterday evening – to such an extent that I ended up having another late night last night as I was carried away by my work.

I could say that this kind of thing keeps me out of mischief, but to be honest, I feel like getting into some mischief right now. My Belgium trip on Sunday is coming just at the right moment to save me from a slow death by boredom.

Tuesday 6th June 2017 – THIS HURRICANE …

… hasn’t blown itself out at all yet. In fact during the night the wind dramatically changed direction and instead of blowing from the south it’s now blowing from the north.

Rather ironically, it’s 73 years today since D-Day and there were major storms on or about this day back then. In fact, it was only a brief pause in the storm that enabled the Allies to launch the invasion when they did, and when the storm sprang up again it blew away several of the temporary harbour installations.

Anyway, as a result of the storm I was awake until all hours with the noise keeping me awake.

And so I decided to nip outside early and take a photo or two of the waves. It was pretty sheltered on this side of the headland yesterday with a southerly wind blowing, but today with a nor’wester I was hoping for much better luck.

Still not as impressive as I would like to see. I’m hoping for at least some spray to come crashing up onto the car park at some time or other.

But I must have dropped off to sleep at some point because the alarm dramatically snatched me out of the arms of Morpheus.

And I’d been on my travels too. But I’ll spare you the details so as not to put you off your supper or something – it was another one of those. However, Zero made her first appearance for a while. Fancy being decanted into a story like this.

Leaving the bed this morning was probably the most difficult occasion that I have had since I’ve been here, but I was soon sitting down and working.

And at 09:00 or thereabouts I started to assemble the stuff that I needed take with me into town, and then off I set. At the Health Insurance people I managed to change my address, but cancelling my policy was something else completely. It’s one of these things that I can only do at the annual renewal date. Of course I don’t need it now that my treatments are being reimbursed at 100%.

The Bank was next, and sure enough, as I suspected, the monthly rent on this apartment has been paid. So I dunno what the Estate Agents have done with it, but to be on the safe side the bank gave me a copy of the payment and I took it round to the Estate Agents and dropped it on the desk of the clerk there. She can sort it out at her leisure.

Having picked up a baguette, I walked back up the hill, running part of the way to chase after my hat that had blown off in the gale.

This afternoon I’ve been carrying on with the blog updating as well as a few other bits and pieces, and sorting out the washing from yesterday. I’ve made all of my arrangements for Leuven too – leaving on Sunday and coming back on Tuesday. That probably means that they will keep me in for a month.

For tea I’ve finished off the last of the lentil curry. Tomorrow it’s sausages, beans and chips. I shall simply add my output to the hurricane outside.

Monday 5th June 2017 – NO CHANCE …

… English bed-wetting types, of anyone sleeping around here tonight.

Not with this howling gale that’s right now lashing the rock on which I stand, which will slowly sink into the sand, just as Barclay James Harvest predicted, if it keeps on going like this.

In fact, the day started off quite nicely. I was asleep until the alarm went off and, leaping out of bed, I grabbed an early breakfast.

An hour or so later I was down in the town in the glorious sunshine with my huge bag full of dirty washing. The idea was to arrive before the crowds did and before the shops opened, and find a parking place as close as possible to the launderette. In fact, I managed to find a free space right outside the door.

But the launderette isn’t much good. It didn’t clean my clothes too well at all and I had to send them through a second time. I shall have to think long and hard about this and about what I’m going to do in this respect.

While the washing was doing I nipped around the corner for a baguette and some tomatoes, and then headed back to the launderette sort out the clothes.

Next plan was to go to the Bank, the Estate Agent and the Insurance place, but Bane of Britain has struck again. It’s a Bank Holiday here today, so I discovered. So forget all of that.

Back here, I ran into (well, not literally) my neighbour who formerly lived in my apartment. We had a little chat – so little that it went on for over an hour and a half and it was midday before I ended up back in here with a coffee.

By lunchtime the weather had changed and I ate my butties indoors. The storm broke at about 15:00 and it was howling around. I dunno what it was that crashed to the ground up the road from here, but it wasn’t half impressive.

I braved the tempest and walked with the camera across to the cliff overlooking the harbour in the hope and eager expectation of seeing the waves lashing over the jetties and crashing on the rocks and all of that. But how disappointed was I?

The bay is quite sheltered from the winds and as a result what was going on down there was nothing like as impressive as I was hoping it might have been. The sea was barely stirring. I’ve had rougher waves in my bath after a plate of baked beans on toast.

Back here I had a few things to do to keep me out of mischief, but as the tempo of the wind increased I couldn’t resist the temptation to fit the zoom lens to the camera and stick it out of the window to see if the waves were any more impressive.

The answer was “some, not much”. I can see that living here is going to be a big disappointment. I was really looking forward to watching the waves come crashing up over the headland in the darkest depths of winter.

So having had tea, I’m feeling pretty tired but I suspect that it’s going to be a long night for me with all of this going on.

Sunday 4th June 2017 – IT’S SUNDAY!

And so I had a lie in – until all of 08:05! Will this luxury and indolence ever end?

Mind you, I nearly didn’t because I was on my travels again last night – quite early too, and it was such a nightmare that I sat up bolt-upright and couldn’t go to sleep for ages afterwards.

It concerned a young man who had a harem, if that’s the word, of women aged from about 15 to their 20s. Five of them, there were. And he treated them cruelly – a real sadist who used to do things like connect them up to electric currents and all of that kind of thing. Totally horrendous stuff. I didn’t know why they stuck it but they did, for reasons known only to themselves. But it was decided after a while to raid this place, free these women and do something about the young man in charge. And so we did. We forced our way into the property and managed to secure these five women. But the man was nowhere to be seen. We questioned these women intently about it and eventually the younger one cracked and said that he was in the back room with “the woman he took from the car”. It seemed that a woman aged about 25 had been abducted a few days ago. Now we knew where she was. We had to smash down the door into this back room and when we did, we saw that it was like some kind of gruesome operating theatre. I knew, even in my dream, exactly what I was going to see and I did see it too. And if I were to describe it to you it would put you off your tea for a week.
Ironically, as this dream progressed, it was very much like déjà-vu. I knew in my dream exactly what the next steps were going to be as if my subconscious had dreamt it before and knew in my dream that I had dreamt it before (if that makes any sense).

It shocked me to my senses – such as they are – for a while anyway.

After breakfast I strolled down to the magasin de presse for my baguette and then spent the rest of the morning working on upgrading the blog. That’s coming along nicely now.

At lunchtime I took my butties and my book and went to sit on the wall overlooking the harbour for a while in the sunshine; And beautiful it was too. When I felt the urge I went for a walk around to see if I could find the bus stop for the local bus that passes near here, and sure enough, there it is. It’s not as convenient as it might be, with this block of buildings situated right in between two stops. So either way, I have a 5-minute walk with my big suitcase. Still, it’s much more accessible than the Auvergne where going anywhere involves native bearers, three months supplies and a couple of hunting parties.

This afternoon I didn’t do a lot and ended up speaking for hours on the phone to Ingrid. It’s nice to hear her dulcet tones again.

And as I type this, I can smell the smell of the pizza cooking in the oven and it’s overwhelmingly delicious. It will be a good tea tonight.

And tomorrow I’ll be going on a major expedition myself into town. I’ll have to rest up properly this evening.

Saturday 3rd June 2017 – AFTER MY NICE DAY OUT …

… and good long sleep yesterday, and my reasonably early night, it will come as no surprise to you to learn that I slept right through until the alarm went off this morning.

And furthermore, after having gone out for my baguette, I came back here, sat down and … errr … don’t remember a thing until someone phoned me up at 11:15. And had they not done that, I would probably still be flat out now because I was totally, completely and utterly dead to the world.

With a start to the day like that, you can bet that I haven’t accomplished much at all. I didn’t even go outside to eat my butties. Mind you, there was a reason for that. There was a big wedding party at the public rooms behind my building and there were hordes of people all over the place. The chances of finding a nice, quiet comfortable spot would have been about zero, I reckon.

As a result I’ve spent all day in here just working on the blog, bringing that more up-to-date and chatting to a couple of people whom I know. If I keep up the blog at this rate, I’ll probably finish it in about 5 years time, if it doesn’t finish me off before then

Friday 2nd June 2017 – HAVING A RIDE …

… on Rosie the Crocodile – and just look at those big scary teeth!

While I was out doing my shopping his morning I had a phone call from Liz. “We’re all going down to the beach at Montmartin sur Mer this afternoon after lunch. Would you like to come with us?”

Do bears go for picnics in the woods?

Last night was a really bad night for me. I was still wide awake at 04:35 and wasn’t sure that I would ever go off to sleep. But I must have done, and crawling out of bed at 07:00 wasn’t very easy either as you might expect.

A shower brought me round somewhat, and then I noticed a little calamity – something along the lines of the fact that I seem to have run out of clothes again. I had a good rummage around and managed to find a few clean things but I really shall have to go to the launderette next week. I have actually found one in the town by the harbour.

Once I’d organised myself I headed off to the shops. Going on a Saturday morning, is, as we know, a waste of time. I went to the Bio shop for some vegan sausages (I fancy sausages, beans and chips), to Mr Bricolage for some fittings for the curtain rail in the bedroom, and to LeClerc for the groceries and some diesel.

But I’m going to have to think again about the bio shop. The stuff in there is quite expensive, the choice isn’t up to much and the staff is quite surly in there. I shall have to see what I can find in the way of mail-order outlets once my bank account is FINALLY organised.

And we weren’t alone on the streets either. By one of the roundabouts was a police motorcycle patrol who was interested in vehicles entering the town. Not quite sure why, but he took a note of Caliburn’s registration number.

After lunch I headed for the beach at Montmartin sur Mer.

While I was on my way up the coast I was overflown by a flight of four aeroplanes. Big four-engines French Army transport planes of some description – I’ve no idea at all what they might be.

But when I was walking down onto the beach after parking up Caliburn they flew back again, directly overhead. This gave me a good opportunity to take a close-up photograph of them as they roared by. They were certainly impressive – and noisy. Just imagine what 500 Avro Lancasters going by overhead must have sounded like. No wonder you needed an intercom

At the end of the beach, away in the distance, they performed a U-turn and flew back off at a tangent somewhere inland. They were clearly up to something, that’s for sure.

As an aside, it was explained to me later that there’s to be a drop of parachutists over the Invasion Beaches to commemmorate D-Day in a couple of days time. I reckon that these would be just the type of aircraft to carry paratroopers and so maybe they are having a quiet rehearsal of low-flying over the beach.

While I had the camera out – do you see that lighthouse across there? That’s the lighthouse on the Pointe d’Agon where we were the other day. We’re actually at the mouth of the River Sienne (not the Seine) and the currents offshore are gradually shifting the mouth southwards by that huge sand bar over there.

Built in 1856 on the site of an old fortress washed away in 1776 by an exceptionally high tide, the lighthouse is now a good kilometre from the mouth of the river today.

We had fun building Rosie the Crocodile and then the lack of sleep last night took hold. I can’t think of any finer way to spend a sunny afternoon out at the beach than by having a good crash-out for a couple of hours. I was well away. And everyone was laughing because I’d put my cap on my face to protect my face from the sun, and as I was breathing in and out, my cap was going up and down like in one of these cartoon films.

Liz and Terry very kindly invited me back for tea and we all had a really good chat, as Kate, Darren and the kids are going home tomorrow. And then , I came home.

It had been a long day and so it wasn’t any longer that I hung about before going to bed. I have no plans for tomorrow so we’ll see what that day brings.

Thursday 1st June 2017 – WELCOME TO THE 1ST OF JUNE …

… and let’s all hope that June will see the end of May.

And on that profound note, I’m sure that you are all wondering how the New Dynamic Me is today.

The answer to that is that the New Dynamic Me was flat-out in his stinking pit until he was taken by surprise by the alarm call. Been a while since that has happened, hasn’t it? And after breakfast, Yours Truly attacked the blog again.

Not quite as easy today, because it seems that in the days when I only blogged when I had an internet connection, I’d compressed five days’ worth of entries into just one. All of that needed to be picked apart and new pages made, photos shuffled around (and tracked down in certain circumstances) and all that kind of thing. I reckon that that was where I ran aground last time I was doing it.

But these days I’m made of sterner stuff and so I spent the morning picking it all apart. And it took most of the morning too. But at least it’s done. And there are several other entries like that too, and for these I’ll need to sit down with a piece of paper, a diary, Caliburn’s petrol log and a few other things besides so that I can work out exactly where I was and, more appropriately and importantly, when.

But it’s quite interesting sitting down and reading what I was doing and what I was thinking all those years ago. For example, there I was in late July 2011 on my way back from Brussels having sold my apartment there, and thinking to myself “well, that’s the last I’ll see of Brussels. I won’t ever be coming back here again”. Ahhh, the wild-eyes innocence of youth and the best-laid plans of mice and men and all of that. If only I knew then …

I went out early for the baguette and missed the crowds. And it was such a lovely afternoon that I went outside with my butties to sit in the sunlight and read my book. And I would probably still be there now except that I started to doze off in the heat. Instead I came in and had a coffee.

Once I’d gathered my wits about me I started to change over some plugs. I’d bought a pile of electrical stuff, such as a slow cooker, a steamer and so on in the UK over the ages, and they came with British plugs. When I was out and about at Brico Cash the other week I’d bought a handful of Continental plugs and so I sat down and whanged some of the stuff over. I would have done more too, except that I didn’t have a wire cutter handy.

Tea tonight was a lentil curry. I put green string beans in it too – not because I wanted to but because I opened a tin of green string beans by mistake. But the advantage of curry is that you can chuck all kinds of stuff in it and it’s all good.

So tomorrow I’m going to go shopping. I’ve decided, as I told you the other day, that hitting the roads at weekend in the tourist season is a pointless exercise. Tomorrow is as good a day as any.

I’ll bet that I’ll forget most of the stuff though. I usually do.

Wednesday 31st May 2017 – AFTER MY EXERTIONS …

… yesterday, I wasn’t feeling up to all that much today.

I was awake early and had an early breakfast too, and then the new, dynamic me took over.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that at one point I was amending the earlier blog entries. This actual blog dates from 2013 and is the nth incarnation thereof. The previous ons dates from 2009 and I managed to incorporate it into this one, but it dropped all of the tags and did something bizarre to the images. Consequently, at one time I had a rolling programme of updating it and correcting the errors.

And so this morning, I restarted. And one of the first ones that I found involved quite a little bit of research. And so that kept me out of mischief for quite a while.

Apart from that, we’ve had another tidying session. A pile of stuff went down to the waste bins and I’ve found a temporary home for all of the glass and china until I buy something that will serve as a dresser. And that jolted me into action too – I went about and measured everything that I need to measure ready for my next mega-shop at IKEA, which will take place sometime soon.

Somewhere during the course of the morning I found time to go out for my baguette – and how I wished that I hadn’t. There was a school trip to the old town this morning and I had 53 children in front of me all spending their €1:00 on the obligatory postcard to send back to their parents. We were there for hours.

Tea tonight was oven chips, and this was a little more successful. I had the oven stinking hot and the chips defrosted before they went in. And I sprinkled them with a little olive oil. That made all the difference and while it still isn’t right, it was much better than the other night. I’ll crack this oven before I die.

So tomorrow will the more-dynamic me still be here? or will he have departed in a puff of smoke during the night?

Watch this space!

Tuesday 30th May 2017 – THAT WAS A NICE SURPRISE!

Yes, there I was down in town doing the rounds and I had a ‘phone call (well, I had a few, but there was one in particular). “We’re just off to the beach. Would you like to come along?”

Well, there I was – not had a shower for a few days, not changed my clothes since ditto and not shaved likewise, and even I was noticing it. But as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, that’s never stopped me in the past so I dashed back home to pick up Caliburn.

Last night wasn’t (quite) as late as the previous and once more I’d had difficulty sleeping. I was awake before the alarm went off too. But it was something else to haul myself out of my stinking pit with a bound and a leap. But I eventually crawled out of bed and had breakfast.

Having organised a few things here and there, I headed off to the Bank. I’d needed some cash as I’d run out, and I needed them to put their stamp on the form that I need to send off about my pension payments. Having done that, I headed off to the Post Office and their new self-service machine which is about three times more complicated than queueing at the counter.

And it was here that I had my phone call.

Seeing as I had already bought my baguette I quickly made my butties, and Caliburn and I shot off to La Pointe d’Agon.

By the time that I arrived, Liz, Terry, Darren, Kate, Dylan and Robyn had beaten me to it and had already put on the nosebags. With my butties, I sat down with them and joined in the affray.

You’ll probably notice that the weather wasn’t so good. It was cold, overcast and windy but that kind of weather is never going to put kids off visiting the beach, building sandcastles and hunting for impressive seashells.

They weren’t so keen on swimming however and I can’t say that I might blame them.

We had eaten our butties at the side of the car park for two reasons.

You don’t want to get sand in your sandwiches
The tide was in and the beach was submerged

But by the time that we had finished eating and chatting – which was quite a while because a lot has happened since the last time that I have seen Kate and Darren, the tide had gone out.

It goes out quickly here and quite far too so we set off. Strawberry Moose was with us too, and it’s a long way for him to walk, and so he hitched a ride out across the sand dunes to the water’s edge

And His Nibs isn’t as light as he might be either, and a 6-year old can soon find him to be something of a burden on a long walk. In the end, Yours Truly ended up carrying him out.

And while we were relaxing, or walking in the water or collecting seas shells, the sun came out and it was a very pleasant afternoon. So much so that round about 16:30 we decided to head off into Agon-Countainville for ice-cream and, in my case, a nice hot coffee.

I came back home later, having called at the Casino for the tomatoes and the pots of fruit purée that I had forgotten on Saturday. Tea was the last helping of the kidney bean and tomato stuff with pasta.

And if I’m not careful, I’ll be having an early night. And tomorrow, I’m sure that I shall find something to do.

EPIC HALL

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