|A favourite haunt in Brittany|
Monsieur Le Maire, Je proteste…
I began, but then found I could not continue because my French failed me. So I decided to continue in English and translate later when I was absolutely certain of my sentiments, comments and helpful suggestions.
My brother, James, and I have been camping for many years now and I am afraid I have to tell you that, as pleasant as your campsite is, you have the wrong trees. I appreciate only too well that this will come as a great shock to you as those trees have clearly been there so long that they probably have a preservation order. They are maple, Monsieur, and therefore completely the wrong trees. Ask your wife. Would she hang out washing under maple trees? Of course she wouldn't. Who wants to wear clothes reeking of waffles and syrup?
I suggested he replace them with good old English Oak. I moved onto the more delicate subject of the sanitary block and its inhabitants…I had to scribble this next section in a whisper to save my embarrassment.
At 7.37 precisely this morning I walked into the shower block only to find - and I must steel myself to say this, Monsieur - a very large Dutchman in his underpants and slippers getting shaved at a washbasin. Naturally I averted my eyes and rushed through to my shower - third one on the left. You really must have a word with that camper's wife. One, such a sight is quite definitely to be reserved for wives and mistresses; two, she needs to buy better washing powder as those underpants were grey and not the white I always achieve; three, he was of an age to know better, over-confidant and over-my-dead-body as a pin-up.
Of course, that distressing little incident led me onto the plumbing and the…umm unfortunate death that occurred.
vos amis Anglais
James et Moi