Thursday, 25 August 2016

The Sausage of Knowledge

In Concarneau market on Monday Louis bought his dad this rather sensational sausage. I know it's lush because we nibbled samples. Anyway this piece, an eye watering 10 Euros worth , is now sitting in the cupboard in the motorhome. It's out of bounds being a special gift but it's been so tempting. Surely no-one would be any the wiser if I took a knife to it and carved off just enough to have a nibble. The temptation is almost unbearable It's like the sausage version of the apple in the garden of Eden!

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

Pebble Duck

Klaus the Knaus, my motorhome has lots of nooks and crannies and little things tend to get mislaid for a while.  And maybe there is joy when the whole process of losing stuff is taken as a whole.  Finding lost treasure brings much glee.

The other day when I was digging the fondue set out of its compartment under one of the seats by the dining table I came across many coins down there too.  A mixture of sterling and Euros as befits a well travelled van. It was just like digging about down the back of a settee.
I was also reunited with this stone that we found on Brighton beach over two years ago now.  I was wondering where it had gone just the other day. When I picked it up I marvelled about how wonderful nature was to produce such a wonderful likeness to a duck. Duh!  Then I realised that it had been tampered with.  It's a great idea though.  Perhaps if I pick up some permanent markers at the supermarket today Lou and I can be copycats and leave our own pebble trail  on the beaches that we visit.

It looks like I'm going to need to work out how to use Instagram.  I've been meaning to have a look for a while so this is just the kick up the bum that I need.  Then I can ask #Reco whether duckie was left on Brighton beach.  Or was he washed by the tides from somewhere else in the world? 

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

My Second Favourite Aire

This holiday had to be a cheap one. Doing up a house for the last year has taken its toll on my finances.  A period of extreme belt tightening is required.  Or a windfall.  Now wouldn't that be lovely?

I contemplated a holiday in the UK . Cornwall or Dorset seemed to be beckoning.  However,  after doing one of my useful back of the envelope calculations I worked out that pitch fees would be no less than the Plymouth-Roscoff ferry cost.  It was more even for two weeks at the type of swanky campsite that would find favour with Lou. 'Sod it' I thought. 'We're off to France.

And so how are we doing this on the cheap? Well it's not rocket science. There were no new holiday wardrobes, we're limiting eating out and cafe visits,  doing free or cheap stuff like walks, cycles,playing on beaches,  freebie exhibitions and local swimming pools and not driving too far.  This last one is quite a biggie as Klaus the Knaus is a bit of a drinker. In spite of the economies we're still eating like lords.  Yesterday we plucked up the courage to get out our 'very Magor and Jerry' fondue for the first time in ages.  Readers who've been with me a while might remember the last time I used it. 

This idyllic woodland is just behind our van.  And the beach and rocky headland are just metres away.  There's other beaches too,  a running track and a swimming pool to die for.  But this is no fancy campsite.  It's an aire, another of my money saving ploys.  I've written about them before.  In towns across continental Europe there are designated overnight spots for motorhomes which are free or cost very little. There's also facilities to top up water and empty the grey tank and toilet.

 Now thsee shots have been taken at my second favourite aire, about a mile along the coast fron the walled city of Concarneau.  It was nothing to park here when I was last here.  Now it costs six Euros a night.  For such a beautiful spot it seems a very small price to pay.  I might be showing off my favourite aire of all time in a few days if there's a space available there.  

Monday, 22 August 2016


My lovely friend Corn Pipe,  who has studied linguistics, recently introduced me to a word which I'm particularly taken with. Idiolect is a term that acknowledges that every person's use of language is different.  We all  have our own particular nuances when it comes to the use of vocabulary, pronunciation and grammatical form.

Now I think  the word 'widgy' is especially unique to me as I think I made it up. My Google search has yielded no evidence that suggests someone else invented it before me. It describes the extreme discomfort and sense of restlessness caused by a seemingly minor irritant.

Yesterday I was driving in sandals that are probably on their last legs.  The leather underneath the sole of my foot was coming away from the shoe's cork bed and rubbed against my heel when it rested on the accelerator pedal. Aaaargh!  My whole nervous system seemed to  be on edge even though just a small part of my body was being aggravated.  Now that is the feeling that I describe as widgy! 

Sunday, 21 August 2016

Stones, Stones and More Stones

We came across these on the coast at Cameret-sur-Mer a couple of days ago. Cairn building gone mad!  Of course somewhere there is our own contribution to this natural art installation.

And there were more high on the cliff above our campsite.  Here's Louis adding his own little stone tower.  He had definitely come of age as a teenager.  Apparently I'm not allowed to tag him on Facebook as he does not want his friends to know that he spends time having fun with his mum.  Good job none of them read my blog then isn't it?

There! A 'boring walk' turned into a bit of an adventure.   Louis conquered four peaks at a secluded bay near Morgat.  It dawned on me the other day that what I love about the Breton coast is that it is like a combo of my two favourite places in Devon, Dartmoor and it's shoreline.  Perhaps that is why we're drawn back again and again.

It appears to that we're not the first people to mess about with rocks in these parts.  Here's the work of distant ancestors.  I was blessed to have this as the view from my motorhome bedroom window for a couple of nights.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

Starring Cro

It's always great to meet fellow bloggers in the flesh.  So I got quite excited when I saw that, seemingly, Cro from Magnon's Meanderings was going to be one of the stars of the show at the spectacle held at Fort de Bertheaume, a stone's throw from our campground the other night.  I'm rather partial to the sound and light shows that are a favourite with the French. They're always a bit of a treat for those of us who are fans of the bizarre.

And here's the man himself in his natural habitat.  I have to say that I was a little surprised to see how unkempt he was. Perhaps it was because  Lady Magnon wasn't in Brittany with him  that personal hygiene standards were slipping.  You know what these blokes are like when left on their own for too long.

As I tried to get a close up shot Cro turned nasty and made some incoherent grunting noises.  It was not the meet up I'd expected.  After the initial shock of being attacked by a prehistoric man mirth set in. I don't think I've laughed quite so much in ages!  As is usual with these tableaux we moved swiftly on through the ages. I'm still trying to scrub off the glitter sprinkled by Old  Father Time two days later!

Friday, 19 August 2016

The Human Fly Paper

I was woken this morning at about 5am by a combination of torrential rain pounding on the motorhome roof and excruciating itching at various points down one side of my body.  Yep, there's a mozzie sharing the motorhome with us and they're especially partial to a nibble of me.   I probably emit some odour that's delectable to insect life and my ability to attract little flying friends  earned me the nickname that is today's title.  Surely there is a design fault with these bloodsuckers. I wouldn't mind if they could take their tiny drop of blood and go away without causing damage but no.  They have to leave an unsightly cluster of red welts and extreme irritation.

I see that there's also a spider crawling around on the ceiling of the van. I'd normally shoo him gently outside but maybe I'll leave him be. Perhaps he can trap and eat that blood sucking little bastard!