As We Can Get It

tale of two English office workers dreaming of being students forever, dans la belle France June 1992.

Twas an early Summers' morning, they traveleth to the fair city of Portsmouth where upon a fine inn provided bacon rolls and tea whilst the strange inhabitants of that fair city tried to force upon them both reflective triangles and spare bulbs, which advice twas bravely ignored.

But a few hours later aboard the Duc de Normandy the intrepid duo were taking repast of cold pizza and chips having already tried out the comfy seats whilst they visiteth the cinema to watch the grand tale of The Medicine Man.

As the Sun moved toward the Western prison they braved the casino but soon retired for coffee. Mere hours later the long trek Southward was begun in earnest, not once falling prey to the French signposts.

Many fair maidens were vieweth as the journey progressed. Shortly after the Sun set they arriveth at their destination, the hard journey finished, not but a thousand bugs and a smallish rabbit squashed on the bumper.

The following day, unpacking their travel kits was followed by one of their small number losing at most all of the known games, however the evening meal was a glorious success and some of the foreign neighbours were visiteth. Alcohol was consumed profusely.

The neighbours, they were visiteth once again, dictionaries were flourished and cerises offered, bribery to watch the video of the grandchildren, all this after having succeeded in contacting long lost love ones afar. The hot water has once more been found to be doing funny things, like not heating up water.

Upon day three of their Summer holiday the fearless two travelled fourth for their first shopping expeditions, which they failed leaving the shop with but some ravioli and .. well some more ravioli due to French siesta time. Hours later they returned to wander around the fair metropolis of St Jean D'Angely then attempt the shopping once more this time accomplishing their objective, leaving with more crisps, wine, frankfurters and a big bag of garlic, all to fend off the mosquitos our reader must understand.

A day further into the event packed adventure was a visit to Angouleme having passed through a pretty town where "we'll stop there on the way back", Angouleme, well orange was definitely in there. Returning long hours later with tired feet they arrived at Jarnac, that pretty town, to exclaim "well blow me down, there lies a Cognac chateau, we really mustn't try that, too early in the day for drinks". But being the brave heroes of our story they entered the cavernous maw of Courvoisier whereupon they braved the American mangling of our fine language and saw Napoleons second best hat (world's full of second bests, take for example Shakespeare), the other being mercilessly destroyed an age earlier. For their pains they each received a small specimen of the amber nectar.

Traditions holding strongly the duo went upon the morrow to walk in the Forest of Aulnay, having been warned that it was full of trees. Even the ancient Roman way was full of trees and little black things which sucked like buggery. And the roads, well they persisted in disappearing from in front their very eyes.

Not to be daunted they travelth onwards to Chef-Boutonne wherein lies a fairy tale Chateau and little else. An early return to their abode was called for, and some beer on arrival, shortly followed by a stroll up the hill past le silo to the gentle musical accompaniment of Vincent losing his shoes to Alex. Ever inventive our intrepid duo stretched their imaginations to their limit and introduced primitive flea darts to our friends in the European community.

Upon the day of Thor they visited Brouage the old walled town, Rochefort of rope fame, and Port Des Basques of no fame with no chance of any for the future. But all was well due to invites from the local populace for diner, an excellent feast amongst children, but quiet hours later allowed international discussions of all possible trivialities.

The last day of the real week brought a quick visit to Venerand for the fontaines, Roman ones at that, roughly translated upon arrival as, funnily enough, baths. Then off to Pons to see the Donjon, naturally closed for lunch, but once you've seen one donjon you've seen them all, now haven't you? Shortly afterwards the grand Chateau of Douhet was viewed but not visited, enough said, as for the Roman Aqueduct, well the holiday makers remain in the dark about that. Never fear, a short visit, largely to the wine section, in the Lecler helped no end, despite the cashier (avec dodgy neck) taking the piss out of our two carrots and strange looks when one half of the duo wanted Miel pops and was threatening to sulk otherwise. All to those soothing lyrics of the Macc Lads.

A glorious victory over the huns was had in Third Reich.

A day of rest whereupon they visited Dampierre where a chateau is and Villenouvelle where a chateau is supposed to reside, a purchase of further food supplies and a visit to Galanchat, meeting Vincent avec lady bird upon the route. Two bottles of vin were consumed followed by a short visit to the local bar.

The real days of rest whereupon Empire in Arms was begun, turns taking longer even than the 3rd Reich turns. Naturally, the locals were having a fete despite the pouring rein, so we friendly visitors visited only to find many boules players in the rain, and the duo had expected tea cakes and beer.

Onto a week day and travelling was begun once more before even the bread van arrived, a mad dash to Bordeaux through the Blaye and Bourg regions and many ignored degustation vente signs. Bordeaux, well big town, no shops, bloody hard to park, ah at home again. Bombing out of Bordeaux to see the Lac, bombing out of Bordeaux to see the Lac, bombing out of Bordeaux to see the Lac, and the park Des Expositions, big building. That done , down the rue to the Dune de Pylat, biggest pile of sand in Europe. Back out of there into a traffic jam and our second spectacular accident en route. Straight through Graves and a huge desgustation, shortly..wine bottle in the boot, into an ordinary Bordeaux region and une autre degustation, shortly..wine bottles in the boots, oops gone six o'clock, since nothing open onto St Emilion, another accident on the way, must be all this wine they drink, beaucoup de grand cru vinyards dans St Emilion, quaint village and...an open wine shop, shortly..wine bottles in the boot. A long hard drive home in the dark, the duo recommending sunsets in Chalais. Many dead bugs later and another eventful journey is finished. Time for bed.

Tuesday, rain very much stop play. Ahhh, Wednesday, Cognac chateaux in profusion, wunderba, more I cry, but time waits for no man, so having added œ60 to the alcohol bill they travelled home again.

Thursday and a slightly gloomy day to visit the fair port of La Rochelle, a games shop and a pretty park near a student area. Again a good day, the intrepid duo having nearly regressed to students once again.

Friday and more shopping, plenty of fromage for the taketh back of, and a barbi for the locals. Oh glorious food and wine, so few other things to life.

Upon the Saturday and a return Northwards having failed to heat up the water overnight at any time during the holiday, pausing briefly to consume coleslaw from their travel rations and to visit the Grand chateau of Chenonceaux...Then onwards to go forth and return to England and the quaint charms of WORK!