I've had a fascinating few days since I last wrote, including visiting Carlisle for a Sunday afternoon and evening, and getting to rural France via Beauvais and the French railway and metro system.
The most interesting bit was Paris for the time it takes to have lunch and change trains. In the old days, the 3:15 train from Montparnasse heading south was hard to catch if flying from Glasgow, as one only had about 1hr and 50 minutes for lunch. Not enough to savour it properly. This time, I had a whole 3 hours, but sadly refrained from sampling the wines as I needed my wits about me to get the right train.
At Montparnasse, of course there is the famous black obelisk, which is the tallest building in France. It was built over 30 years ago, and the story goes that the developers just wanted to fill a big hole with a square block. At the time, the market was a bit soggy for offices, so the architects came up with the idea of a landmark building. The only problem was that it broke every rule as to height and density in Paris, and looked dead in the water - until ( I believe) a junior in the architect's office came up with a cunning plan.
" Why not" he said " Buy the two blocks next door which are going cheap." I'm sure he was looked at as if he had two heads ( happens a lot to me), but he continued.." Then average the height over the whole site..."
Brilliant! So that is why there is the massive tower, and alongside it a one and a half storey Galleries Lafayette stretching as far along the road as the tower goes up.
I noticed lots of police in vans, cars, motorbikes and even push-bikes, who finally picked up a chap who was clearly the object of their search. Everyone was very well behaved whilst the boys in white ( mostly) rushed about.
I like the enlightened entertainment policy that pertains on the Metro. Not only do you have to have a licence, you have to have a quality test before they let you on. On Metro line 4,on Tuesday they had clearly got all the saxophonists together, as there was one at every stop, and at one point a whole combo even got on the train, playing not only jazz, but swing, blues and at one point even classical.
On my way back on Sunday, I was delighted to see and talk to two proper pilgrims, complete with staffs and shells who were going to walk to Santiago de Compostella They had just come from the UK to the Gare du Nord, and were considering where to go to start walking. There are two main ways from France, the one via Tours and the other from Vezelay. I suggested the Vezelay one - its prettier in my view. From the Spanish border its pretty indivisible. They were planning to spend about 4 months on the walk, and be at the Christmas service in the Church. They had the light of the Lord in their eyes - and love for each other too.
And so to Beauvais once more. There is an excellent Bistro opposite the station where I now take my evening meal, as the bus for the airport leaves there at 8pm. On the way, there was a lady standing beside a set of traffic lights. The driver pulled in, the lady hopped aboard, kissed the driver and handed him his supper - and none of your sandwich rubbish either. He had a hot meal which I saw him openeing as he had a 30 minute wait for his return journey.
In France, C'est la Vie.
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
A French affaire
Before not getting my flight on Thursday, I took myself to the Bistrot du Boucher in Beauvais where I have eaten exceedingly well several times before.
As I was early, I sat outside in the sun nursing a beer the restaurant had given me.
A smartly dressed lady, at a guess in her early thirties, came towards me, and started pacing up and down, then lit a cigarette. She had a worried expression on her face. She tapped up and down for a bit on her heels, dragging on her cigarette, then angrily threw it away. The following was all in French, so forgive the rough translation.
" Monsieur, tell me, are these heels too high?"
" I'm sorry?"
" My heels - are they too high for my outfit?"
" Er no, no I don't think so...."
" This is most important for me - are you sure?"
" Yes I'm sure they are just right." She looked relieved, and as a young man came round the corner her face changed into a warm smile of welcome, followed by a lingering kiss when he reached her. He resisted, scowling.
The restaurant was by now open, and the couple went inside. I followed and was led to a table a short distance from them.
My meal was excellent ( Flan of courgette, crayfish and lobster sauce, followed by a magnificent pave de boeuf with salad, and cheese to finish, all washed down with a glass of rose, and then a glass of red) but the drama unfolding across the table opposite was riveting.
They were lovers who had had a tiff ( several over a period it would seem) and the girl was determined to get him back. He on the other hand had had enough - in fact, he had found someone else, and wanted nothing more to do with her. The look on her face was heart-rending. He said he had only agreed to meet, because he wanted her to know finally definitely and irreparably that it was over.
Whilst all this was going on, another man - at a guess 45ish, greying, receding hair, but as the French would say "soignee" - came in, sat down and the waiters rushed to provide him with a drink - he was clearly a regular. The girl glanced his way once, then ignored him. She launched into a justification of her position, how she always wanted to have his children - I did think a bit louder than was strictly necessary - how she would help him, love him, and lots of other things too.
The young man was unmoved.
He stood up.
" C'est FINI!" and walked out.
The girl promptly burst into tears and held her head in her hands.
The older gentleman had watched all that had gone before. He carefully finished his drink, then rose, and sat down opposite the girl.
He spoke very softly so I could not hear all that was said, but slowly the girl's sobs shortened, and after a few minutes she looked up, her previously perfectly made-up face now a Jackson Pollock of dribbled black lines.
A few minutes more and a little smile escaped.
The man put his hand over hers, still speaking softly.
A short while later, she got up and announced her intention to repair her " maquillage" and disappeared to the loo.
The man returned to his table and picked up his keys which had been on the table. As he passed me, I said " Well done, she was very upset."
He stopped and looked at me. He was deciding something.
" Monsieur, I have loved her for more than ten years, but I was always too old for her. She always wanted younger men, always of no worth, of no consequence. She thought tonight would be her last chance for happiness in the future. I have to tell you I would wait another ten years and another ten if necessary.
But I tell you frankly, monsieur, my whole being will be stretched to bring her the happiness in the future she hoped for tonight."
As I was early, I sat outside in the sun nursing a beer the restaurant had given me.
A smartly dressed lady, at a guess in her early thirties, came towards me, and started pacing up and down, then lit a cigarette. She had a worried expression on her face. She tapped up and down for a bit on her heels, dragging on her cigarette, then angrily threw it away. The following was all in French, so forgive the rough translation.
" Monsieur, tell me, are these heels too high?"
" I'm sorry?"
" My heels - are they too high for my outfit?"
" Er no, no I don't think so...."
" This is most important for me - are you sure?"
" Yes I'm sure they are just right." She looked relieved, and as a young man came round the corner her face changed into a warm smile of welcome, followed by a lingering kiss when he reached her. He resisted, scowling.
The restaurant was by now open, and the couple went inside. I followed and was led to a table a short distance from them.
My meal was excellent ( Flan of courgette, crayfish and lobster sauce, followed by a magnificent pave de boeuf with salad, and cheese to finish, all washed down with a glass of rose, and then a glass of red) but the drama unfolding across the table opposite was riveting.
They were lovers who had had a tiff ( several over a period it would seem) and the girl was determined to get him back. He on the other hand had had enough - in fact, he had found someone else, and wanted nothing more to do with her. The look on her face was heart-rending. He said he had only agreed to meet, because he wanted her to know finally definitely and irreparably that it was over.
Whilst all this was going on, another man - at a guess 45ish, greying, receding hair, but as the French would say "soignee" - came in, sat down and the waiters rushed to provide him with a drink - he was clearly a regular. The girl glanced his way once, then ignored him. She launched into a justification of her position, how she always wanted to have his children - I did think a bit louder than was strictly necessary - how she would help him, love him, and lots of other things too.
The young man was unmoved.
He stood up.
" C'est FINI!" and walked out.
The girl promptly burst into tears and held her head in her hands.
The older gentleman had watched all that had gone before. He carefully finished his drink, then rose, and sat down opposite the girl.
He spoke very softly so I could not hear all that was said, but slowly the girl's sobs shortened, and after a few minutes she looked up, her previously perfectly made-up face now a Jackson Pollock of dribbled black lines.
A few minutes more and a little smile escaped.
The man put his hand over hers, still speaking softly.
A short while later, she got up and announced her intention to repair her " maquillage" and disappeared to the loo.
The man returned to his table and picked up his keys which had been on the table. As he passed me, I said " Well done, she was very upset."
He stopped and looked at me. He was deciding something.
" Monsieur, I have loved her for more than ten years, but I was always too old for her. She always wanted younger men, always of no worth, of no consequence. She thought tonight would be her last chance for happiness in the future. I have to tell you I would wait another ten years and another ten if necessary.
But I tell you frankly, monsieur, my whole being will be stretched to bring her the happiness in the future she hoped for tonight."
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Credit Agricole.
Well, BB has prompted me to put the Credit Agricole story first.
If you follow the charming and second best card player Winchester Whisperer, you will have spotted we were in Albert over the last few days.
I had stayed there before in the Hotel de la Basilique, where Didier and Sandrine looked after us excellently again.
As you do, I got chatting with Didier, telling him how nicely I thought they had done up the hotel since last we were there. Whereupon he told me his story.
The Credit Agricole, with which his family have banked for more than 100 years, lent him about Eur 20,000 to do up the hotel last year. Admittedly they took no security, but the hotel and its business must be worth , ooh, say about Eur 400,000
Things were quiet running up to Christmas, but no payments were missed, but money was tight.
Before the January payment, due 24th of the month, and in fact on 10th January, his bank manger walked into the hotel and without any discussion said two things.
1) We will not honour any of your cheques which are presented as from today.
2) We want our remaining loan ( about Eur 16,000) repaid immediately.
Taken aback, Didier asked why.
" Because you have only paid Eur 500 into the account in the last 10 days"
" So what? " said Didier. " I have 14 more days to make the payment, and if necessary I can borrow money from my father"
" Nevertheless, as from now your account is effectively closed. And we have taken your credit balance into the loan account."
Bouncing a cheque in France is a criminal offence.
Absolutely shattered, Didier spoke to his father who wrote a cheque on the spot for Eur 20,000, but on his way to pay it in, he passed another bank, CIC.
He walked in and asked to see the manager, who he knew ( Albert is a small town), and told him the story.
The manager smiled.
" Well, I think I know why. Here are account opening forms so that you can at least trade. We will honour your cheques meantime. Once we have this open we will see about the rest. They have to give you 6 weeks notice to repay anyway."
Still shattered, but mightily relieved, Didier filled in the forms, then paid the Eur 20,000 from his father into the account, and proceeded to contact his suppliers to sort out the mess of CA's making.
A few days later, Didier spotted in the paper that CA had made a loss of Eur 5 BILLION. He went along to see his new, friendly bank manager.
" Ah yes," he said ," This is the reason, as I thought."
As Didier said, " It's not me nor people like me who have lost CA Eur 5Billion. In fact they have made it from us. It is they themselves who have gambled and lost, something we would be punished for. But, of course, not them."
As a postscript, the CA manager was furious with Didier's father for giving him money - it was a CA cheque and was Eur 20,000 less that they had to weather their own storm.
If you follow the charming and second best card player Winchester Whisperer, you will have spotted we were in Albert over the last few days.
I had stayed there before in the Hotel de la Basilique, where Didier and Sandrine looked after us excellently again.
As you do, I got chatting with Didier, telling him how nicely I thought they had done up the hotel since last we were there. Whereupon he told me his story.
The Credit Agricole, with which his family have banked for more than 100 years, lent him about Eur 20,000 to do up the hotel last year. Admittedly they took no security, but the hotel and its business must be worth , ooh, say about Eur 400,000
Things were quiet running up to Christmas, but no payments were missed, but money was tight.
Before the January payment, due 24th of the month, and in fact on 10th January, his bank manger walked into the hotel and without any discussion said two things.
1) We will not honour any of your cheques which are presented as from today.
2) We want our remaining loan ( about Eur 16,000) repaid immediately.
Taken aback, Didier asked why.
" Because you have only paid Eur 500 into the account in the last 10 days"
" So what? " said Didier. " I have 14 more days to make the payment, and if necessary I can borrow money from my father"
" Nevertheless, as from now your account is effectively closed. And we have taken your credit balance into the loan account."
Bouncing a cheque in France is a criminal offence.
Absolutely shattered, Didier spoke to his father who wrote a cheque on the spot for Eur 20,000, but on his way to pay it in, he passed another bank, CIC.
He walked in and asked to see the manager, who he knew ( Albert is a small town), and told him the story.
The manager smiled.
" Well, I think I know why. Here are account opening forms so that you can at least trade. We will honour your cheques meantime. Once we have this open we will see about the rest. They have to give you 6 weeks notice to repay anyway."
Still shattered, but mightily relieved, Didier filled in the forms, then paid the Eur 20,000 from his father into the account, and proceeded to contact his suppliers to sort out the mess of CA's making.
A few days later, Didier spotted in the paper that CA had made a loss of Eur 5 BILLION. He went along to see his new, friendly bank manager.
" Ah yes," he said ," This is the reason, as I thought."
As Didier said, " It's not me nor people like me who have lost CA Eur 5Billion. In fact they have made it from us. It is they themselves who have gambled and lost, something we would be punished for. But, of course, not them."
As a postscript, the CA manager was furious with Didier's father for giving him money - it was a CA cheque and was Eur 20,000 less that they had to weather their own storm.
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