Ants

You can see how empty life is without cycling filling every waking hour - I am reduced to talking about ants.

But first, a cautionary tale - rocks can be slippery when wet. Out with the dogs on Monday morning, as usual, and it was chucking it down, as usual. There is a stile into the field near us, which I go over twice a day, every day. There are rocks either side of the stile, normally providing a sturdy path, and given little thought. On this fatal day, however μ, the coefficient of friction, was obviously considerably sub-optimum for reliable traction. Down I went, possibly the most painful thing that has happened to me since, and I still don't know how it happened, I got myself tangled up with my bicycle frame whilst descending the South Downs rather fast. Anyway, it could have been worse, could have been life-changing had I been less lucky, but as it is I have a backside the colour of a baboon's and pains in my back which make gardening difficult...into each life a little rain must fall.

Oh, yes, ants...idling in the conservatory, unable to do any gardening - see above - I was surprised to see a large squadron, I would say swarm, but apparently that is racist, of ants heading in my direction. Normally, I take a benign view towards other life on this planet, if it leaves me alone, I am happy to reciprocate. I addressed the advancing horde and told them they were not wanted, that they must leave, and that would be the end of the matter. I think the leader muttered something about 'all property is theft', so desperate measures will be taken.

And finally, cue for a song...Blue Moon

Catullus

I just came across this quotation from Catullus, translated by the ever-amusing Edward Enfield:

You come back to your own home and you lie on your own bed and after all that struggle abroad there is nothing left to worry about. What could be better? This alone would make it all worthwhile.

Excerpt From: "Downhill all the Way: Cycling Through France from La Manche to the Mediterranean" by Edward Enfield. Scribd.

It is beyond doubt true, but already, I'm missing being on the road, and thinking ahead to the next trip, this time with far less luggage.

Me again

It just goes to show how cycling can fill your life. When I was cycling, you got a fact-filled post every day, but now...tumbleweed. I haven't been doing nothing (is that a double negative? I don't think so.), but most of what I have been doing has revolved around catching up with all the stuff that I didn't do when I was away enjoying myself.

We have a big garden. I don't enjoy gardening. Worse than that, our big garden consists of a mixture of granite, marble, bracken and what we laughingly call the lawn, but what you and your friends would call a field. Just to make absolutely certain that not one iota of fun can be obtained while working in the garden, this seems to be an especially good year for horseflies.

On the much-missed nature table, something which is puzzling me. Last night, when out cycling, I saw a dead badger beside the road. Although it's a quiet road, badgers have very poor eye-sight, so quite likely it was hit by a car. This morning, while out walking, on the other side of the ride, another dead badger. What do you think?

Finally, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, I am actually doing something revenue-earning tomorrow. One of my former customers is paying me to take the train to London, plus my time, plus a free lunch so as to sort out his laptop. I did tell him there were probably people locally who could do it more cheaply and he said those magic words that all self-employed love to hear: "Money is not an issue".

Back to my war on bracken, but I'll leave you with this photo of why I just love living here:

Gee..but it's great to be back home...

One of the plus points about going away is that it makes you appreciate how good you have it at home. I like my comforts and I like my privacy, and  you have to forsake both when you're on the road on a bicycle. The thing that I found most irksome was getting clothes washed and, more importantly, dried. After a month, you really do get fed up with putting on damp socks. I had a gauze bag and thought it would be possible to dry stuff by putting it in the bag and trailing the bag in the wind, but a) you look a dick and b) everything just gets dirty again.

I do like Brittany Ferries, their boats are large and comfortable. Certainly a better option than driving back to Cornwall from Portsmouth, or even worse, Dover.

My bike was utterly disgusting, it took me a morning to clean it, and the chain is still a bit yukky. It has developed a very irritating creak when I'm pedalling hard, and I am trying to track it down. Hopefully not the bottom bracket.

Anyway, home to a garden looking like a rainforest, and bickering at the flying club...I must start planning my next trip.

De echte laatst

For those whose Dutch isn't as whizzy as mine, today's title translates as 'the really last one'. Bear with me. If you were one of Bob's boys at Raytheon, it was fairly normal to go and drink yourself stupid at t' Narretje at lunchtime. At some point, someone (never me) would declare this round was de echte laatst, and we really should go back and do some work.

There is a point to this. I declared Strasbourg as 'the end' because I felt continuing was pointless. But today has been the real end of this jaunt, ending on a high instead of a low. A trip right across France by train was enjoyable in itself, and it let me see exactly how far I'd been, not even counting going across the bottom of Germany. Incidentally, the ticket clerk who told me it was 'une rien' from Gare de l'est to Gare Montparnasse was a lying bastard. It took half an hour on the bike. Additionally, I met nice, interesting people on the train, and it was all a lot of fun.

I don't suppose many of you have been to Roscoff. Unless you live in Cornwall, it's an unlikely ferry port. It's not like other ferry ports. It's small and charming and generally delightful. It even has a museum about the onion johnnies. Don't know about them? Those of a certain age (I include myself) will remember the French onion sellers with their bicycles festooned with strings of onions. The reason they came to England was because, in those days, it was easier to get to England from Brittany than to get to Paris. Not many people know that.

I walked into town from my b and b, enjoying the view and smelling the sea air, and had a perfect meal of crêpes accompanied by bio cider, chatting to the amiable host and enjoying his music : R&B, soul and rock 'n roll. That was a proper ending. I like France. A lot. We get on.

By the way, can anyone see the point in globe artichokes? Talk about a lot of hard work for little reward.

Evening, all.

Bike on TGV

Cycling across Paris..Arc de Triomphe

Some river or other

La dernière classe

This evening, we have a bit of a literary theme, so if that is not your scene, switch over now.

Being in Alsace got me thinking. As I mentioned, Alsace has been pinched by the Germans / French on more than one occasion. The title, as well as indicating this is probably the last you will hear about this little saga, also refers to a short story by the wonderful Alphonse Daudet, in a collection called Contes du lundi. It is about a French teacher in an Alsatian school teaching (you've probably guessed this bit) his last class after the Germans had invaded in the Franco Prussian war. Living in England, that sort of thing hasn't happened for nearly a thousand years, but it makes you think, doesn't it?

Continuing to pinch bits of French literature to wrap this up, I will have bored many of you witless with my eulogies for Voltaire's Candide. It really is the only philosophy you need to know. I am glad I did this, but now I feel, like the eponymous Candide, it is time to cultivate my garden.

I take the train from Strasbourg at 0715 tomorrow and eight and a half hours later, I shall be back in Roscoff. Apart from the last bit, we're talking TGV here, so it makes me realise just how much I have achieved.

Especial thanks to Ad, Philip and Geoff for keeping me going when I might have given up, and to Kylle for offering to bale me out on more than one occasion. And thanks to Carla, for just being so nice.

Finally, on a lighter note, yesterday's curry was so good, I thought 'why not?'- well, you do, don't you? The place was surprisingly empty, but about half way through my meal, two very drunk Tamils came in and started treating the waitress like a servant, not helped by the fact they spoke no French. I acted as interpreter (at first) and late as mediator, persuading her just throwing them out was probably better than calling the cops. When I paid the bill, I said i should pay more for the floor show. Au contraire, dit-elle, I have knocked 10 euros off for your help.

Evening all.

French for beginners - buying a ticket

Translate into French:

Moi (for it is he) Good morning, I would like a ticket to Roscoff tomorrow morning for me and my bicycle, is that possible?

M. SNCF I very much doubt it. Anyway, why go to Roscoff? There's nothing there. Strasbourg has everything.

Moi euhh? I want to catch the ferry.

M. SNCF No, no, the ferry goes from Calais. I sell you a ticket there.


And so on. Eventually, after being convinced by a colleague that, yes, there was a ferry from Roscoff, we had a long discussion about where the ferry went, why one would want to go there and finally, he sold me a ticket. I hasten to add this was all very good natured.

It is wonderful not to have to cycle anywhere today.