Those Gauls are crazy!!!

I like a party as much as the next man - unless that man's name is Yassin. I met Yass for the first time about 15 years ago, I met him again this weekend and I think he has been partying ever since our first encounter. meet yass

Yassin is a crazy Gaul. I just spent the last weekend with about 15 crazy Gauls and Richard my yorkshireman friend who lives in France and, to quote same, we 'made ourselves 'ave it!' It was not weekend for the faint hearted or the amateur party animal Only those with a blithe disregard for their own safety and sanity were welcome - I passed - just.The man in the picture (msr Frou Frou) passed easily.

I wont go into the seedier details suffice it to say that it was the Tempo Latino festival in Vic Fezensac a small rural town which annually plays host to this orgy or drinking and merriment thinly disguised as a latin music festival. There was latin music - but there was also Pernod for breakfast 6 hours sleep over two nights and men in binkinis at the public swimmng pool (the sane patrons saw the funny side and actually applauded when we arrived).

Lunch on day two was something - well quite something actually - perhaps assisted by my party muddled brain and the fact that I don't speak very good French it was like having lunch in an Hieronimous Bosch (sorry about spelling but you know who I mean) painting. Luckily my fellow demons were friendly and the bull stew was delicious washed down with neat Almanac!


Well after lunch we went to the pool with the orchestrator of the whole debauchery (who n fact is a serving French Policewoman!) and so it went on. A fabulous weekend of revelry French style, lets see how the Basques shape up

Caravans Dogs and Mini Golf

What links caravans, large dogs, and Mini-Golf? This blog dummy! Actually, I would have accepted incompatibility with a rainy climate - but hey if every rain-shy activity were off limits to the British we'd be left with drinking and darts and we've all seen what that can lead to....



So lets not dwell on the weather (just see the pic of the day for a taste) let me invite you to share the view of British summer I have had this week via the prism of my familial visitations.

Mother likes caravans. Don't ask me why (its something to do with the ingenious storage solutions I think) so much so she has two．　Ｅａｒｌｉｅｒ　ｔｈｉｓ　ｗｅｅｋ　ｓｈｅ　ｓｈｏｗｅｄ　ｍｅ　ｔｈｅ　ｓｍａｌｌｅｒ　ｏｎｅ　ｗｈｉｃｈ　Ｉ　ｆａｌｅｄ　ｔｏ　ｐｈｏｔｏｇｒａｐｈ　－　ｐｏｓｓｉｂｌｙ　ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ　Ｉ was too busy trying to avoid hyperthermia in the windy caravan parking area in North Wales by shivering and jigging up and down like some kind of caravaning ice addict. Suffice it to say that caravans have come on a lot in the 30 years since I last spent a week in a tinfoil chariot sheltering from the summer in a cow field in Cornwall - they even have satelite TV in case you get bored with the sunshine outside - ahem.

Father likes big dogs. Deerhounds actually which have the benefit of being almost impossible to walk, massively hairy and partial to the odd sheep. Ideal you might think for breeding in Wales - well spotted because that's exactly what he's done．　Ｈｅｙ　Ｉ　ｌｉｋｅ　ａ　ｂｉｇ　ｓｈａｇｇｙ　ｄｏｇ　ａｓ　ｍｕｃｈ　ａｓ　ｔｈｅ　ｎｅｘｔ　ｃｒｕｆｔｓ　ｎｕｔ　ｂｕｔ　ｔｈｅｓｅ　ｂａｂｉｅｓ　ａｒｅ　ｅｎｏｒｍｏｕｓ．．

Ａｌｓｏ　ｅｎｏｒｍｏｕｓ　－　ｍｙ　ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒｓ　ａｎｄ　ｓｉｓｔｅｒｓ　ｉｎ　Ｅａｓｔｂｏｕｒｎｅ　－　ｗｈｏｍ　Ｉ　ｈａｖｅｎ’ｔ　ｓｅｅｎ　ｉｎ　ｙｅａｒｓ．　Ｗｏｗ　ｈａｖｅｎ’ｔ　ｔｈｅｙ　ｇｒｏｗｎ，　Ｉ　ｄｏｎ’ｔ　ｈｅａｒ　ｙｏｕ　ｓａｙ，　ｗｅｌｌ　ｙｅｓ　ｔｈｅｙ　ｈａｖｅ　ａｎｄ　Ｉ　ｔｈｉｎｋ　ｉｔｓ　ａ　ｌｏｔ　ａｎｄ　ｉｔｓ　ｍｙ　ｂｌｏｇ　ｓｏ　ｊｕｓｔ　ｔａｋｅ　ｍｙ　ｗｏｒｄ　ｆｏｒ　ｉｔ．Ｉｎ　ｏｔｈｅｒ　ｎｅｗｓ　Ｉ　ｌｏｖｅ　ｅｍ　ａｎｄ　ｗｈｅｎ　ｔｈｅ　ｓｕｎ　ｆｉｎａｌｌｙ　ｃａｍｅ　ｏｕｔ．

My brother has an Alpha Romeo Spider. Not so much a boast as a fact that explains this video...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dY8MTU_gNM

As you can see the weather - ahem - lovely. Unfortunately you can't really hear the sound of the engine in that video but take it from me it is a fast car and since my brother had just completed a day of racing driving instruction at a local race track he was driving pretty fast. Which is of course really not very sensible - but may have been a little fun too.

I now find myself in the heart of Southern Englishness where there are no poor people, everyone is white and the houses are thatched - its all a bit surreal. Later today I am taking a train to the North where reality will resume its grip and the accents will be less silly.

Oh - and just in case anyone was in any doubt as to how much fun you can have in the West Country here's a pic of me at the biggest Tank Museum in the world! (I know you're jealous Andrew and KB)

Juanathan

Cured!

When does one consider oneself cured of an affliction? Is pure absence of symptoms enough? Can we say that the epileptic, asthmatic, or liberal voter is cured simply because they haven't experienced their defining characteristics for a while? I don't know, but what I do know is that I just spent over 24 hours in the air without the slightest twitch, shake or stifled gasp of weak kneedness - CURED!

In fact, I really enjoyed it! I enjoyed the fact that I had two seats to myself from Syd to Tokyo. I enjoyed the faux Japanese food. I loved the Britishy types working on the BA flight, I loved it that the films on offer included All the Presidents Men and The Candidate (surely one of the best political campaign movies ever made - or only...) and I loved the space age beauty of the environmentally destructive Terminal 5 - phew

But I'm getting ahead of myself lets start at the start. I didn't leave Sydney on Tuesday night. Yes I was dropped at the Airport by Mr Bolwell stiffling our tears in manly fashion I waved adieu and strode through the doors to my new life - six hours later I joined 150 other grumpy passengers for an unscheduled night at the Novotel Brighton (nice beds) due to maintenance problems. I was less than chuffed as you can see here ...


As you can see I remained positive and in fact it was only 5 hours before we were all back on the bus heading for the airport and were processed in record time and were soon airborne.

Having missed my connection in Tokyo I got the treat of a night in Narita Nikko Airport hotel the highlight of which was my first experience of wearing a nightshirt..

I now find myself 24 hours later typing this entry watching the clouds trundle low over the slate roofs of North London whilst the dulcet tones of Test Match Special describe the 'action' at Lords as 'splendid' and 'quite marvelous' - and I am happy.

Tonight I go to Brighton to meet old friends and maybe have a pint or two - marvelous!