under another sun

Into the local village of Les Mages this morning, walking under the tiny underpass, past the plopping frogs. A friendly little market there, where we bought vegetables and fruit, some sliced cured ham (which proved to be delicious). The lady we bought ham from was correcting my French in a friendly way, and when I paid her she told me words to the effect that she was charging me a few euros, but the heart of France is free.  Meanwhile, the butcher’s stand was fun, and he was a real performer. One of the locals was buying lots, and he routinely dropped in the odd extra sausage. We bought some sausages, and were given a really good extra slab of pate for nothing. Then we went into the Tabac, where Lorraine got us coffee, and the lady there remembered us. I really like being in this Tabac as it feels like you are glimpsing a completely everyday bit of French life. Men ordering their demis, and Pastis which changes colour with water, and coffees. There is a lot of gambling there a...

A bit of an odd day. Up fairly early (for us) and into town to have a croissant and coffee in the slightly surly wifi café called Café-Sola (written in the coca cola font). Sent off a couple of emails, and uploaded a bit on this blog too. Lorraine and I then sauntered back to the flat, buying an artisan baguette en route, before tucking into lunch. The weather then took a surprising turn, windy (I ran around closing the shutters) and the rumble of thunder over the mountains and big spots of rain that never fully developed into a rain storm, and then a light rain for a short while. Lorraine and I enjoyed from our balcony, reading (The Buried Giant by Kasuo Ishiguro, Lorraine something about people killing each other in Scotland) sewing and so on. Later, we took a walk around Collioure, springing up the hilly bits in the coolness. We ended up in a restaurant (not on our list) where we had a quick pizza.   Not a particularly good pizza, I ordered something called a Mexicaine ...

Up with the sparrows after the kind of a fitful sleep you have when you know you are getting up early, and very kindly driven to Ashford Eurostar by Pete for just after 6.00pm, who had been watching the Olympic opening ceremony and was going to go back home and catch another half hour’s sleep before work.  Had a bite at the café there before going to the platform and boarding our train. A few thoughts about the excellence of the Eurostar tunnel as a terrorist target before the train slid in, but luckily all was well. Soon we were zooming through the flat French countryside before Paris. At Gare du Nord worked out how to get to Gare de Lyon, a mere two stops on the metro, once we found the correct platform. Gare de Lyon something of a maelstrom of people waiting. I went to a shop and carefully selected two of the worst baguettes in France and some drinks, then we made it aboard the TGV to Perpignan, along with hundreds of others. We were sat on the top deck, next to an annoying ...

Nervously getting ready this morning, breaking off to chat to Betty. Hopped on a bus and into town, then a train up to St Pancras. Arrived early and hung about in St Pancras for a while looking at the sculpture of John Betjeman, and phoned Mum and Mas. Then onto the Eurostar, the closest thing to a Shinkansen in the UK, zoomed across Kent and even remained calm under the channel trying not to picture myself at an average depth of 48 metres below the seabed, with all the English Channel overhead. Distracted by seeing a Toby-lookalike and also an actor who was in the Spiral TV series we saw on TV (although it took me several minutes to work out who he was). Strangely once the train surfaced in France I felt as if I'd crossed a weird Rubicon. My apprehension was replaced by pleasure looking out at the flat greyish landscape of northern France punctuated by churches poking up from little villages. I glanced at the man sitting across the isle from me and he was reading Proust's Sw...