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| A favourite haunt in Brittany |
My morning thus far has been shocking, disconcerting,
horrifying and a few other useful words in the same vein. So I'm writing a letter of complaint to the
Mayor.
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.
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| Grand Rue |
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.
I am
very sorry to have to tell you, Monsieur, that your plumbing is positively
Napoleonic. And the noises emanating
from the cistern whilst I was showering can only be described as
Josephine. For a single lady of my
advancing years such an experience is most unsettling. May I suggest that you have your plumbing
looked at urgently?
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| The chateau |
Lastly,
I must confess to a very unfortunate death on the campsite. Having showered, and assured myself that the
Dutchman had left I went to the communal washbasins to clean my teeth. One of your basins was inhabited by an
enormous black beetle. In an effort to
put the poor creature out of its misery I put the plug in the sink and switched
on the tap in the hope that it would float to the top and walk away. Meanwhile I used the only other basin
available. When I next looked over to
the beetle I found him on his back immobile.
I had mistakenly switched on the hot tap and boiled him. I do apologise for this terrible error, but
you have the taps the wrong way round.
I further suggest your plumber addresses this too.
vos amis Anglais
James et Moi
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