(no subject)
I finally got round to writing up the protobot trip to France, in 1998.
Zachary, Timothy, Toby and myself are now embarking on the Historic Annual Grand Tour of France. This is an ancient tradition among our families. The first born male in the families of Lee, Bamham and Benjoras and the second son of the House of Dickerson tour France together in solemn pursuit of enlightenment until the fine day when their own male scion comes of age and the responsibility is passed on. this year is especially important since it will be the second time it has happened, and therefore the tradition will be set in stone.
So far no record has been made of the First Annual Grand Tour of France. So here, for the sake of history, is my memory's best effort to recall events. Please remember that we were travellers, not tourists. Toursits wear day-glo, swig beer and talk in loud annoying voices. We did not wear any day-glo.
DAY ONE - London/Lille/Troyes [sometime in August 1998 - Ed.]
We made good time through the 'chunnel' and arrived in 'Lille' in time for 'breakfast'. Almost immediately we saw a foreginer relieving himself in the bushes. At first we were disgusted by such behaviour (being English - and therefore very repressed - we were not even aware other people had gentials and considered them to be some sort of cancerous growth. Timothy had even surgically removed his with a hacksaw the night before, and laughed heartily at his mistake), however we soon learned to join in, since the French translation for 'public convenience' seems to be 'smelly hole in the ground that doesn't flush'.
We hired a car for the week and set of for Brittany. Zachary had been nominated navigator because he loves maps. Unfortunately we soon came to realise he was not taking us to Brittany at all, but to the south to enjoy a tour of everything he saw on family holidays in his youth. This included the Cathedral in Troyes, of which we saw three (being not particularly sharp at street navigation).
Distressed and starving after such a long journey, we drove to the nearest lake where we swam, played ball and set up camp for the night. Tim crashed the car in a ditch much to the hilarious amusement - and cost - of us all.
Matthew ate steak and chips.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY TWO - Troyes/Some mountain 50km from Argentat
Zachary and I decided that a splendid way to start the day is doing impressions of Eliza Dolittle selling her flaarrs in St Martin's. It was in this fine spirit that the entire campsite was woken up.
Part of Zachary's childhood holidays was, apparently, travelling great distances in discomfort with no rest. In this spirit we attempted to travel the whole way south to a campsite near Argentat on the Dordogne, but fell short by fifty kilometers and camped up a mountain instead. Little else happened on the way, though future scholars may be interested to note we discovered that Stella Artois, that famously expensive beer, only costs about fifty pee a bottle so we got through a great deal of that whilst we were driving, eating and camping.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Matthew ate steak and chips.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY THREE - Mountain top / Argentat
When Zachary wakes up his first instinct is to find out what time it is. Zachary sadly doesn't have a watch of his own, and lacks the intelligence to find out the time by himself, so essentially if Zachary wakes up everyone else soon has to follow.
We resumed the journey where we had left off and drove on to Argentat. the campsite is next to a huge lake, so Timothy, Zachary and myself went out into the middle on our airbeds. Matthew attempted to follow without an airbed and we managed to keep a comfortable distance from him the whole time. [I think this is a subtle allusion to the fact Matt was sucked up a sewage outlet - Ed.]
Now we were fully in the land of Zachary's youth it was time to visit the same things he had visited, and we went to an unspectacular ruined citadel percehd on a hill in the Dordogne. Always keen to educate, Timothy and I used museum weaponry to reconstruct possible sword fights at the site, but we soon learned that local staff were the enemies of education.
Zachary demonstrated what a brave little climber he is by scaling a solid rockface and slipping through a doorway at the top. Zachary then demonstrated he is only a brave little climber when he is going up, and we very nearly had to leave the quivering wretch to the mercy of the elements.
At Zachary's insistence we dined in the local campsite restaurant. The food was disgusting and when we asked the waiter for a dessert menu he brought it to us, waited for our choice, took our orders, and then bellowed "We are closed now. Please leave." We dutifully did so, and Zachary said it had been just as awful last itme he was there. We asked him why on earth he made us go there again. He smiled smugly.
Whilst playing volleyball a foreigner joined in without invite. He implied in his half-English that Zachary played like his momma and had chocolate instead of muscles. We responded with a long string of obscenities that ensured he did no intrude again.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Matthew ate steak and chips.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY FOUR - Argentat
Arising early, we drove for three hours to a town identical to Argentat and Matthew and Timothy forked out twenty pounds each for a game of golf. Being more sensitive by nature, Zachary and myself went shopping, threw mini-sticks of dynamite at cows, and then gorged ourselves on salad and chips. Not feeling particularly hungry that evening we announced to the others that - what with the hot weather and all - perhaps a light picnic would be preferable. The others starve.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY FIVE - Argentat / Beaulieu
Rising early, we went into central Argentat and set off on a twenty-one kilometer two-man canoe trip to Beaulieu. The paddling techniques accurately reflected the pesonalities of the paddlers. Matthew sat back and let the other paddle the whole distance, pausing only to dip his paddle in occasionally to correct direction. Timothy was unable to work as a team and would paddle any which way he could. And Zachary and I stopped after three kilometers, drank a couple of bottles of wine and ate all of the sandwiches as we drifted down the rapids whilst our friends patiently waited for us further down river.
The rest of the day is - inexplicably - a drunken blur. Zachary and I played a fun game where I throw beer bottles at him and he avoids them. We passed one man who lay on the bank of the river bank, his boat upturned and paramedics fighting for his life. "Monsieur Helie Coptre," Zachary shouted, in sympathy.
["Monsieur Helie Coptre" was Zachary's catchphrase for the holiday, and about two years after. On Day Two we had played the game when you name humorous books and authors - e.g. "Should I Stay, by Hugo Now". Zachary patiently watched for about three rounds before announcing the winning strike: "A Guide to Helicpoters, by Monsieur Helie Coptre" - Ed.]
Matthew's legs went bright red with sunburn. "Will they go brown?" he asked, pleadingly. We told him they would, but both his legs peeled off at the end of the holiday.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY SIX - Argentat / Le Vigan
Perhaps frightened that we were settling in and enjoying ourselves, Zachary announced we should now set off travelling again, this time to Le vigan, which lies so far in the South of France the day was - predicably - spent entirely in the car.
The next campsite was small and cramped and we were given a plot jammed in between a German and two Swedes. Recognising a trend in our recent behaviour, we bought three crates of beer and - after dinner in a firclet - we constructed a large fire and settled down for a night's drinking. We found our neighbours to be most unpleasant, as they spent all night shouting at us to shut up. As evening turne into night, and night turned slowly into early morning, I decided to scavenge an entire tree from the beach, which proved more than sufficient firewood.
Matthew drove over a tree.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Matthew ate steak and chips.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY SEVEN - Le Vigan
The heat became quite unbearable. In the mornings the tents were too hot to sleep, in the afternoons the streets were too hot to walk, and in he evenings the sun was too low in the sky it burnt our eyes as we played tennis. The only time available to us was the night, but how could we stay awake at night knowing we wouldn't be able to sleep in the heat during the day?
We spend hours in the shade, and at lunchtime (the hottest period) descended into some caves deep inside a mountain, where Zachary developed the amusing joke of snapping stalactites and then quacking like a duck.
We decided it was generally too hot, and we should head back north.
Matthew and I argued over something very petty.
Zachary got very drunk.
DAY EIGHT - Le Vigan / Bourg
So again, a day of driving. We headed for Lille and stopped off briefly in a small French town. It turns out that one simply cannot buy food to eat in the afternoon. There are no cafes and the bakers close very early. We wandered around for ages and the best we managed was a tomato salad (to prepare: chop tomatoes into a bowl). We drove on and arrived in Bourg too late to book our chosen campsite. We took an inferior one instead. For dinner we again discovered we were too late, and that things close at nine. We got an awful takeaway pizza and Matt had to subsist on biscuits and crisps alone. When we got back to the campsite, the gates were locked.
DAY NINE - Bourg
Zachary and I went windsurfing. By which I mean, I was blown downwind into a sewerage pipe, had a tantrum and demanded to be taken home.
In the evening, drunk and high on the joys of mini-golf, Timothy and I wander over and ask the security guard if we can go swimming in the pool after dark. he says no. Under no circumstances. He stresses that this must not happen and we will be thrown out if we do.
Thinking about this, Timothy and I conclude he seemed quie undecided on the matter, and so wander out of sight, strip off our clothes, leap into the pool, and start climbing up a giant water slide. It isn't until we reach the top that we can see the security guard running towards us with a torch, followed by a whole gang of bounty hunters. Terrified, we run down the slide and into the night.
There are few experiences as terrifying as being pursued naked through the woods by thirty screaming children with torches. Of course, I was caught. I stressed I was English, and the man let me off with a scowl and the words "English? Ah. Vous est les hooligans".
DAY DAY - the motorway
Drove north.
DAY ELEVEN - Disneyland Paris
Tim tells a hilarious joke: what's the difference between the Warner Brothers and Walt Disney? Well, their surname is 'Warner' whilst Walk 'Disney'. Actually, I don't think I remember the joke.
I absolutely needed to get back to work. Trisha was insistent about this when I took the holiday time off. I had also just taken the job, and I really wanted to make it work. Ah, but I really wanted to go to Euro Disney too, so I called up to explain we'd had a puncture on the way home (true, but not wholly relevent) and that I'd be a day late (also true, but not exactly against my will).
[This diary entry is bizarrely short, and completely excludes the fact Zachary and I were chased by Disneyland's security and had to adopt disguises, following one of Zack's 'public protests' in a fast food restaurant - Ed.]
DAY TWELVE - Paris / Lille / London
Go home to my squat in Lambeth.