Hi there all not long to the meet, some are getting a bit confused just turn up and when you see a coffin dodger entering that resembles one in now and then you have found him.
I’ve had a steady week end sis was off to France for a few weeks which reminds me when I have travelled through france do it every few months but this was when I was in Chalon-en-Champagne (it used to be called Chalon-sur-Marne).
There is history. A rather fine cathedral built over a 12th Century church. Some wonderful 16th and 17th century stained glass. On side chapel was partly curtained off, but a notice assured me that Jeanne d'Arc had prayed there. I peeped in and saw a pile of dusty chairs that may well have been there when she was there.
Until 21001 French Zebra crossings were optional. That is to say, they were painted on the road, and pedestrians were encouraged to cross on them, but motorists were not obliged to give way. Now they are, but most drivers refuse to believe that such a daft rule can have been brought in, and carry on as before. I'm told that the mortality rate amongst pedestrians is soaring.
Then there are the strange signs and names. I wouldn't immediately think of walking into a shop called Kitapiss to buy wallpaper. Cat food, maybe, but not wallpaper. And there was a worrying sign in a small glass boutique in the covered plaza fronting the local Carrefour 'Changement des piles'. Personally, I don't like my piles, don’t suppose you do, but I've got used to them, and don't know that I want to change them for someone else's - especially in a glass boutique with everyone watching. And especially on a 'while-u-wait' basis, which presumably means taking whatever is in stock at the time. And especially in-between shops, which presumably gives the operators only seconds to complete all the necessary blood and tissue matching. I noticed that no one went in whilst I was watching, so neither did I.
The meat counter at Carrefour had lots if dinde for sale. I asked a callow, spotty, effeminate youth in a white coat what it was. He said 'Gobble gobble'. No-one had told me that the meat counter at Carrefour was the local cottaging arena, and then I felt even more foolish back in the hotel I learned form my dictionary that dinde is turkey. What a daft word. I can cope with boeuf, steak, poulet, lapin and mouton but dinde!!!! Where did THAT word spring from? Perhaps Dave can enlighten us as he lives in France.
Will enlighten you on my military career of cocktail shaking in the next issue , if you enjoyed the only X-rated cookery page.
Regards to all M
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