Later in Montmarte

Sunday 30 May 1999. Montmarte will remain for me one of the highlights of our weekend, though there were really so many things to enjoy.

As the coach took us towards the restaurant for our evening meal I snapped this out of the window, to remind me of the many apartments of Paris, where people live in the heart of the city. One of the things that also intrigued us a little was the habit of having external window blinds instead of them being inside.

There was a short walk to the restaurant where we had another superb meal, commencing with that great French favourite, onion soup! It came with huge croutons - in fact as I remarked at the time, it seemed ready dunked with chunks of bread and was delicious. Beef Bourgignon followed and then an apple tart, glazed and then with some spirit over it which was set on fire here. It flamed with a dull blue flame and the camera has not been able to pick it up - but take my word for it folks!

My friend with the clarinet and saxophone was playing again and had a friend playing that seemingly most French of instruments, the accordian. Not the piano variant but a true "buttons both sides" job. And very good he was as well!

Now you may remember me mentioning Edna a couple of pages ago when we were climbing to Sacré-Coeur. Edna was an absolute wonder during the holiday, always cheerful, always mischievous and just bursting with joy and fun. It was her 86th birthday and in came a cake with a firework on top and the musicians played Happy Birthday to her whilst we all sang and raised our glasses and cheered. "Well, I don't know!" she said, "I'm only eighty six!"

The coach made one stop before heading back towards Bougival, and that was back in Montmartre at the famous windmill of le Moulin Rouge. The dancers are mainly British and American these days. It was here that Toulouse-Lautrec fell in love, only to have his heart broken - yes... there's no time, Toulouse... The first fully nude striptease was performed here in 1896. The dancer was arrested leading to riots in which two students died. And no, I don't have a photograph of her...

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Stealing Bikes and Buying Love

18 August 2001. We are still in Amsterdam. We have been exploring on our own for a while but are now joining the rest of the coach party.

Our rendezvous point is the restaurant where we shall have our evening meal. Ben's Bar. When we get there, there are already a few familiar faces from the coach milling about. We get a drink apiece and wait for our guide Chris and the rest of the folks.

We sat in a corner of the restaurant by a window that is only just out of sight to the right of the photograph above. On the left of the photo and directly opposite us over the canal are a few bicycles, chained against the railing. We were kept entertained throughout the meal by the antics of various tea-leaves, who were put out at the presence of chains, but who proceeded to remove wheels, seats, handlebars and any other bits they could before one persistent chap came back after having already taken the saddle. He produced a huge bunch of keys and tried them patiently until he finally was able to hoist the frame onto his shoulder and set off, accompanied by a rousing round of applause from the restaurant...

It started to go dark and an air of expectancy crept over Chris's party. She was about to lead us through Amsterdam's notorious red light district! She warned us against taking photographs. Although a quick visit to Google images will show that taking photos can be possible (you'll have to do your own searching - I'm not providing any links!) apparently both cameras and photographers have been known to be thrown into canals...

I didn't risk it. Although this could be because Fran didn't let me stand still for more than a second and also because shortly after spying a rather delicious form in a window lit by red fluorescent tubes, I walked straight into a crotch-high bollard and thoughts of making a transaction suddenly didn't seem as appealing... The rest of the group did however find it very funny...! There were very many windows, most of which were occupied by a comprehensive assortment of women. All ages (over 21 most if not all), sizes, shapes and colours were there. Dressed in lingerie, some were miserable, others bored and others enticing. Some could have been supermodels, really beautiful girls. Aw... Fran!!! It's not polite to look without buying...! Chris led us around at a hell of a lick (if you'll pardon the expression...). There wasn't even time to ask the price.

The coach picked us up and delivered us back to the hotel. Then a "men only" optional trip returned for a couple of hours. I wasn't allowed. In fact Fran maintained a firm grasp of my ear throughout the evening...

Now I know... The lack of photos may be a disappointment! So my final offering for the 18th of August 2001 is this. It was done just to illustrate this entry. The research I've had to do to produce this has been exhausting... And as I'm sure I've mentioned before on this blog - I'm rubbish at drawing people!

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Newcastle Trip

Just back from a two-day trip to the Newcastle office.

One of my colleagues who lives even further away than me was there too but in a different hotel so we met up last night and went for a meal. A little bizarre in that a waiter came up to the table at about 8 minutes to 7 and said "If you are still here after 7 o'clock it will cost you more..."

Apparently it was a badly worded attempt to say there was a discount for early diners! However what happened in practice was that plates were cleared and we were at the till in 2 minutes flat...

A Stroll Across Frank's Bridge

The number of times I've driven through Kirkby Stephen on my way to and from Newcastle and every time I've glanced at the sign for Frank's Bridge and thought "I'll visit that some day!"

Today has been "some day!" Frank's Bridge is a pedestrian bridge over the River Eden.

Apparently the two stones at one end are for resting coffins on... the bridge was on the way from nearby villages to the parish church! The stones allow the bearers to catch their breath before the last leg into the village. The Eden itself is clear in the sense that it is not cloudy, but it is coloured dark brown from the peat fields it has worn its way through over the centuries. It doesn't deter the ducks, many of whom were trying to get a little shut-eye as we crossed the bridge and stood above the river bank where they had congregated.

There are other treasures in Kirkby Stephen. Possibly the last signpost measured in miles and furlongs points to nearby villages. I wonder how many people there are left who are able to get a picture in their mind of just how long a furlong is? Just for the record it is ten chains... What? Still can't get a fix on it? Well a furlong is also 1/8 of a mile.

We decided to try the local chippy - opposite the Sports & Social Club. We had meat and potato pie with chips and mushy peas. If you are hankering after the same, you could do much worse!

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