FRANCE: CLOSE-RUN THING All three arrived home oddly. Zach uncharacteristically subdued, Darren walking awkwardly on his heels, OS with a fixed, buck-toothed smile. When OS tried to explain things she could only manage giggling incomplete sentences.
They'd signed on for 12 km adventure down the River Hérault gorge, three to a canoe. French canoes are equipped with a dieresis - canoë - and are thus pronounced can-oh-ey. During the briefing (in French) the francophone customers all laughed at one point. No translation was forthcoming.
After about 5 km the ZDOS canoe slid nescapably into a whirlpool which briskly overturned them. OS broke the surface but couldn't find Zach, saw only his cap floating rapidly downstream. She could, however, hear him and after a while realised he was under the still overturned canoe. Strong currents had by this time carried away two sets of flip-flops and a paddle. As the two adults struggled the canoe to more tranquil water at the side of the gorge they noticed two Belgians passing through, clinging to their overturned craft.
I then lent OS the car to drive to the Clermont l'Hérault Super U where, she assured me, the selection of flip-flops would be wider than at the hated Intermarché at Gignac. It seemed the least I could do.
MORE CHAT The waitress at Le Pavillon, where we had dinner, gave good value. Her calmness towards a multi-voiced babble asking for drinks suggested my (kind of) apophthegm: Quand tout le monde parle, rien est compris. (When everyone speaks, nothing is understood.) to which she gave qualified approval. Later I asked her for an idiomatic French equivalent for the anti-grief exhortation in English: Get over it! Quickly she devised something elegant involving light at the end of a tunnel. Dinner OK too
I just can't visit this blog any more, at least until you all reach the safety of the UK.
ReplyDelete(Poor Tom!)
ReplyDeleteHope all goes well for the remainder of your time away.
You hide your concern and sympathy very well, Sir.
ReplyDeleteHow is VR by the way?
All: Thunder and lightning are crashing about outside as I walk from my bed to the Compaq this morning. Since the villa proprietor has already had one TV turn into a glassy blob during such a storm his instructions to guests is to disconnect the TV and Skybox for the duration. This I have done and I'm hoping Zach sleeps on this morning and fails to discover I have rendered useless his gateway to the silver-screen world.
ReplyDeleteBut most of all my thoughts are with Tom. Especially as I pull out the power plugs and antennae coax since these tasks make me peculiarly vulnerable to a sudden megavolt surge of electrons through the house's electrical system. I am in fact risking his worst fears. My only comfort is that he'd be unable, even if he cared to do so, to read about the latest amusing event in this holiday since the potential author would be roast mutton.
And I would also be unable to tell him about yesterday's disaster when the pool, previously an enticing blue, turned into a hideous acid green and the pool-man introduced "a very powerful product" which made swimming a no-no until midnight yesterday.
Tom: Assuming I survive this visit to France perhaps you would like to become my executor. That way you could be involved in the chain of tragedies that constitutes my life, but at several stages removed.
Crow: I fear this response is not going to alleviate his apprehensions.
Ellena: VR is far too sensible to get involved in such a harum-scarum advanture and stayed back at the villa with me.
However, you raise an interesting point. My posts are deliberately limited to 300 words in the belief that in blogging - and elsewhere - less is more. That given unlimited space I may run off at the mouth.
As a result I try to avoid the obvious. My sympathy and concern can be taken as understood; because such matters are difficult to animate they are therefore best left out. Irritating you by omitting certain matters is better than irritating you with masses of predictable detail. My aim on the whole is to entertain and it is a matter of personal regret that I shall be unable to dilute any tendencies towards solemnity in the account of my funeral (a Humanist event at which secular music and good quality wine will predominate).
I'll give the executorship some thought. Alright, so I peeped; but I kept one eye shut!
ReplyDeleteWhere is Winnetou when you need him!
ReplyDelete