JOURNEYVILLE 2 OR THE REST OF SATURDAY

Another rain soaked car journey, where the following curious French things were noted:


• Toll roads show no greater evidence of the toll money being spent on them than the non-toll roads.
• French drivers clearly have no part of their driving test that includes knowing and respecting breaking distances.
• When you stop in a French council estate and use their E.Leclerc, or Intermarché or Carrefour and your wife and eldest go shopping leaving you and the youngest in a deserted underground car park, you really do feel like you are in Mesrine or District 19, especially when silhouetted at the entrance to the car park is a steadily growing group of youths. I point out that none of this middle-class foreign shopping terror was called for or had any grounding in actuality, but still, that was how I felt at that moment in time.
• French radio. Why is French radio still so determined to anchor itself in the late 80s UK charts. This is the play list; Eurythmics, The Police and/or Sting, Phil Collins or U2. Also, did you know that Robbie Williams sings in French over here? For example, L’Amour Supreme. He doesn’t belt out the chorus as well as he does in English, but hey, he gives it a good shot in French. On the subject of French radio, much the same as Italian radio, swear words in English do not bother them, so they play them. Biggest example being Bruno Mars, Millionaire. Over here, he wants it ‘So Fucking bad’, I liked it when it was just a ‘freakin’ requirement.

Remember Dave Stewart? The French will never be able to forget him.
Incidentally, I look a bit like him, apparently.

We arrived at our house for the next 7 days. It is gorgeous, it has a pool, it has more rooms than we number in our family, so we can all row and sleep in separate beds if need be. It rained over the first night so much it kept us awake. We ordered croissants and French bread and the next morning it arrived in a cute bag hung on our front door.

Chez Magill for the rest of our holiday. If you imagine a river running
by the front door and cloud as low as the chimney, that is how it greeted us.