VINTAGE TRAVELLER

OK.  Back from France, wine cellar replenished, few extra pounds round the middle, silly grin on face.

We stayed at a former chateau (most rural hotels seem to be former chateaux)

 

in a little place south of Calais, not far from the Belgium border.  It was set in small but pleasant grounds.

 

When I say 'small', I mean a bit bigger than my garden, with only a small stream running through it.  It was perfect for a couple of days relaxing and of course we had chosen it for its renowned chef, who likes to surprise guests, rather than give them a menu.  Here's a starter - scallop soufflé on caramelised endive with seafood sauce and a crustacean foam.

Yes, it was stunning.  Main courses don't photograph so well, so here's a dessert - baba on a sort of crème with spiced pineapple and a little tube of rum (I'd already squeezed mine!).  There's a mulberry lurking round the back too.  Don't know what the red bits are; maybe the chef cut himself.

 

Even for someone who doesn't do desserts, this was heaven!

The hotel was used during the War as a hospital (for German soldiers).  There is still a bomb shelter in the grounds (which we didn't have to use).

We spent a day in Ardres, which has a nice public office (if you look closely, it is dated 1679.  Actually, it is dated 1679 even if you don't look closely.),

an interesting church,

 and a very nice wine shop.

But we also enjoyed driving through the French countryside, with one village seemingly piled on top of the next.

Though the roads in these parts were horribly congested.

 

I took this pic just because I liked the colours.

 Some nice brickwork.

On the way home, we stopped in Boulogne.  We always used to lunch in the old city, partly because it is historic and nice, and partly because it is nearly all restaurants.  But we've now found where the locals eat lunch . . .   This is the town hall in the old city.

 This is the town hall in Calais.

KNIT PICKING

Since the explosion of interest here in Scandinavian thrillers, both written and on television, I suppose it was inevitable that we should start seeing British thrillers based on the same tenets - dark scenes, broody, troubled detective, lots of suspects, every character with a mysterious secret, all the players somehow inter-connected, each episode meandering mysteriously and slowly on, each ending with yet more unanswered questions and maybe a new suspect, women in jumpers, etc.

I watched the 2-part thriller Shetland last week.  It was quite good.  It was set in a bleak landscape (the Shetland Isles unsurprisingly), there were lots of secrets, the community was close-knit, the jumpers were even more closely knit, everyone seemed to have a secret, the detective was broody, but . . . I don't know, it finished somehow rather unsatisfactorily.  I think they missed the point about making it slow.  Two episodes was just not enough.  When we found out whodunnit, it wasn't really such a big surprise and, since there had been little time for many plot twists, it ended with a phut.

There was great scenery though.  And an obscure Viking festival was featured; I had never heard of that and was fascinated that it has survived.  It could have added an even more sinister atmosphere to the context of the crime, but again, it sort of passed by.  The series was as if a producer had demanded a British rival to The Killing and someone had made the leap from Icelandic jumper to Shetland jumpers, but hadn't really followed the thought through.  The disillusioned detective's daughter had the best jumpers and all the best lines - he said to her, 'you can see Iceland over there.'  She responded, 'what the supermarket?  Oh no, I forgot, there are no supermarkets on the islands are there.'  Later she added, 'I can't even go out and climb a tree.  There aren't any!'  Unless you want to see what The Shetlands look like, don't bother to look for this series on catch-up.

I am in the middle of the longer Broadchurch at the moment.  Broadchurch beach is actually Bridport and is based around the high cliffs you may remember I featured in a recent post.  The main actors are David Tennant and Olivia Colman.  If you are a fan of David Tennant, he is brilliant.  If you're not, you might think he acts too hard.  He is the broody detective with a past to hide and, as with others in this genre, he seems to be emotionless.  But it's hard to tell whether he's trying to look like someone who's trying hide something and struggling to suppress his emotions for risk of giving too much away although not being quite broody enough to be charismatic and likeable or whether he's trying to look like someone who's a brilliant impassive detective with a broody nature, but isn't quite succeeding.

But the show is actually all about Colman.  She is just extraordinary.  Knowing all the members of the community well, her character has to help conduct an enquiry that appears to suspect any or all of them.  And of course she still wishes to be one of them and is distraught for all of them and shares all their suffering.  When she looks at the camera, you don't need any words, nor anyone else in the scene, you just feel what's going through her mind and what's going on.  Fabulous!

So far the series has followed all the rules - dark scenes, broody, troubled detective, lots of suspects, characters with secrets, all the players somehow inter-connected, each episode grinding slowly on, each ending with unanswered questions and maybe a new suspect, and a woman, not in a particularity memorable jumper, but in a nice boating waterproof anyway.  I hope it continues to unravel in this way (the series, not the jumper) (although, on the other hand . . .).  Broadchurch will be appearing on US TVs later in the year, so look out for it.

In contrast, I have just finished watching Spiral, the French detective series.  In many respects this series also followed the Scandinavian rules.  In fact it beat Shetland and Broadchurch by also having subtitles.  They both had tricky Scottish accents to contend with, but there's something about subtitles that adds to the mystery.  Or maybe that's just by association with the Scandinavian language thrillers.

Anyway, Spiral also had a woman in a jumper.  Again, not a particularly memorable one, although I might have just been distracted by the fact  that it kept slipping off her shoulder.  All the police here  seemed to interpret 'plain clothes' as down-and-out scruffy blousons.  What a waste of an opportunity for the French fashion knitwear industry.  One of the criminals disguised himself as a policeman at one stage by not shaving and putting on a leather bomber jacket.  Even he saw that it was some sort of uniform.  But I suppose it must have had an element of realism in it, otherwise it wouldn't have been accepted on French TV.  Perhaps all those louche men hanging around on French street corners with cigarettes in their mouths are actually police officers.

Spiral was also a police procedural thriller, like most of the dark, mysterious Scandinavian ones.  I am in the process of reading through the 10-book Martin Beck series, which was the forerunner of all of today's police procedurals.  The main premise there, apart from the gloomy, dedicated detective with a consequent hopeless homelife, was that society was rotten, mostly because of the actions of Government.  So most of the action takes place in run-down public housing, with understaffed police, illegal immigrants living outside the law, citizens with their lives ruined by public servants or wealthy industrialists, etc and most of the criminals evoking more sympathy than the representatives of the law.

Spiral had the dingy, run-down back streets, rather than the grand frontages one is used to in scenes of Paris, it also had the illegal immigrants and down-trodden citizens and uncaring, self-serving authorities.  The police characters too all had the usual personal problems.  But it didn't seem to have the political message of the Martin Beck procedural.  What it did have though was a great premise - instead of the gloomy, bleak, wintry, nocturnal environment of The Killing or Shetland, the atmosphere was built up with intertwined stories of crooks, lawyers and police, and every one of them operating outside of the law with greater or lesser degrees of venality.  Maybe that was the political message ie real life in France is not the one promoted in all the superficial fashion and holiday magazines?  Anyway it was fascinating to watch at every level.

We were not invited to like the thuggish police officers that much.  Nor did I have much sympathy for the criminals, certainly not for the anarchists among them.  But, if the environment revealed in this series was indeed realistic, what a dystopia!  I guess there will be another series in due course.  Watch it!

RYE REMARKS

It was a sudden decision to go to France last week, but it was partly encouraged by a thought that we might visit Rye, a town I last visited many years ago, but which I keep seeing on the TV or on calendars.  Oh, and it's also near Christmas and a good time to stock up on cheap plonk, tins of duck confit, etc.

Of course the reason Rye appears on calendars is that it is particularly photogenic.  It is a little medieval town, built in that peculiarly medieval way, with cobbled streets running uphill from the fishing port to the inn and the church and the castle.  But this town has hardly changed since it was built.  There are a few Tudor and Georgian additions, but it is essentially caught in a time warp.

When I was young, my mother used to read me a story or a poem before I went to sleep and one still sticks in my mind now:

Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark -
Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk.
Laces for a lady; letters for a spy,
Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! 

I always used to imagine a town just like Rye outside the window.  And indeed Rye thrived as much from the activities of smugglers as it did from any other trade.  Here's one of the streets from the harbour:

 

And this is the road past the Mermaid Inn (I think it's called Mermaid Street).  The15th century inn is on the right and is still one of the places to stay or eat:

But the residents have a sense of humour.  Here's one house on the top of the hill:

 

and here's another:

 

and here's a commemorative plaque on a little cottage behind the church:

 

We then stayed the night in Dover, ready for an early departure on the ferry the next day.  And I can hardly believe it, but last year, when we did this, we awoke to find it had snowed in the night; this time I thought the same thing had happened.  But it turned out to be a heavy frost and I had to spend nearly half an hour before breakfast trying to scrape the frost and ice off the car.

I shan't bore you with more pics of Boulogne where we went for a delightful lunch and a bit of Christmas shopping, but I was struck by the view of Dover from the French side in the early morning sun.  Given our long history of invasions and threatened invasions, it still seems incredible that England is in fact so near France and so visible.

 

Oh, OK, here's a shot of the Notre Dame cathedral at Boulogne which I quite like, taken from under the city walls .  I thought it gave a good sense of how the buildings in the old city, public and private alike, are packed in together within the fortifications.

BALE BOND

Saw Skyfall tonight.  Bond certainly suffered for his cause (whatever that is), putting his life and soul into it in fact.  The action sequences were great; Bond was great (vintage you might say) and all the 50 year old bits that were reintroduced were amusing and enjoyable.  I just have to think for a while whether the plot worked.  Why did the baddy cause such mayhem and distress; why didn't he just kill the person he intended to in the first place?  He was so clever and had such extraordinary resources at his disposal (oh, I have think how he obtained those too) that he could have finished the story at any moment he chose.  Of course there would have been no chase and not much of a denouement in that case, but they're just details.  Hmmm.

We're off to France tomorrow.  Sudden decision.  Might just get a few things in for Christmas though while we're there.  Mostly of the liquid variety probably.

Back at the weekend sometime.  A tout a l'heure.

360 BLOG 1

second page            Oct 29, '07 12:26 AM

for everyone

17 January 2007

Went to London to see Spamalot. Great for real devotees of the Pythons and an enjoyable spectacle with a couple of new parts, but a bit thin.

Unfortunately, it now looks unlikely that I will live overseas again in the near future. So I guess my travels will now be limited to holidays. Here's a pic of the corner of our lawn taken today instead of anything else. Is this another effect of global warming?

Wednesday 17 January 2007 - 05:25PM (GMT)

2 January 2007

Happy Christmas and Happy New Year!

This year my son and daughter gathered here for a wonderful few days of family Christmas. I enjoyed myself so much chatting (oh, and eating and drinking - I think we might be entitled to an award for our contribution to Petersfield's bottle bank) that I didn't take any pics except of my grandson, who continues to grow and develop delightfully. He is so happy - now reacting to us and smiling. I hope we will leave him a world he will like. Here he is clearly enjoying his Christmas present (new buggy).

Wednesday 17 January 2007 - 05:19PM (GMT)

24 November 2006

Well, I didn't know before I went to France, but it was Beaujolais Nouveau day! So a great lunch with a carafe of Nouveau in old Boulogne.

What a contrast there is on the road between Calais and Boulogne. The first impression always is of ghost towns. Where is everybody before midday? Where can you stop for a coffee? The out of town hypermarkets, the monuments to the Chunnel and the terminus itself contrast starkly with the ancient rural communities, the picturesque dilapidation of the towns, the lack of High Street multiples.

Out of season now, so the main street was bereft of the crowds of British visitors. But the restaurants are still quaint (in a nice way) and serve good food if you pay enough.

Unfortunately it rained all day, so lunch was long and the stroll round the old city walls short (and few photos - see top page). I arrived back at the ferry, boot full of wine and cheese, an hour early and gained a place on the earlier boat. The Beauljolais Nouveau has gone and the cheese is fast disappearing, but the wine store should eke out until the New Year . . .

Friday 24 November 2006 - 03:30PM (GMT) 14 November 2006

Not much to say about this month. Autumn has been taking over. I have managed a couple of delightful walks through the surrounding autumn countryside. Here's a tree from my last walk. As soon as you leave the town, you lose sight of signs of human habitation (apart from the odd fence or fellow hiker!). The views are across vast areas of open countryside, the sounds and smells are rural. Any autumnal intimations of mortality are banished by a sense of the miraculous regeneration of nature. This week I am going to France for a break and to stock up for Christmas. Yes, for those who haven't been to Harrods in the last few months, Christmas is approaching.

Tuesday 14 November 2006 - 10:40AM (GMT)

23 October 2006

Have just returned from a delightful break in Saltzburg. I wanted to catch the Mozart celebrations this year and just about managed it before the ski crowd arrives. Surprisingly it was warm during the day and I spent most of my daytimes sitting out in cafes and restaurants or hiking over the mountains (see my top page pics). It is unusual to find such a self-contained town, leave alone one that has survived its history so well. The old city deserves at least a couple of days just wandering about; most buildings claim to be mediaeval and are very pretty. And the walk along the Salzach is also a delight. Up on the mountain, you have a real sense of the quirk of nature that allowed this town and its important heritage to survive. Even the building materials used for the castle, hewn from the famous Saltzburg cliffs, have historical interest (just consider how, almost uniquely among European castles, it survived). The Hotel Sacher is on the river - it's the only branch of the famous ViennaHotel , home of the Sacher torte - and well worth eating on the terrace (maybe everyday!) with a coffee. But beware - there are so many coffees in Austria they don't allow you to order just 'coffee'. Verlangeter is the nearest to Americano or filter, but the others are well worth trying. But don't bother with coffee or cake if you don't like vast quantities of cream. I recommend vast quantities of cream and then a hike up the mountain . . . I managed 3 concerts which were wonderful as much for the settings as the music - one in a 15th century wine cellar, one in the fortress and one in town in a stately home (schloss). Maybe it's just the harking back to another more peaceful, less hectic, age, but wandering the town, climbing the mountains (?hills), and sitting in mediaeval settings for coffee, wine or meals, watching life pass by, is just so heartwarming. You couldn't leave Saltzburg without feeling benign and uplifted, as well as relaxed.

A one day trip on the train to Vienna threatened to disturb that rest. If Saltzburg was sleepy, it was because everyone had gone to Vienna! Also notable was the mysterious underground station population - more sinister than colourful. Cafe society is alive and well in the pedestrian walkways and parks, but for true relaxation . . . back to Saltzburg.

A DROP OF PORT

I am conscious that I haven't got round to posting pics of my trip to France earlier this year.  For some reason or other, I seem to have been too busy with my present life to find time to catch up on old doings.  But I'll try to tell you a little about what we did.

My two very close friends of many years standing (and sitting for that matter) kindly offered, at a time when I didn't expect even to be walking, to take us to France in their car.  I was in fact by then quite mobile, although more nervous than I am now about vigorous activity.  Still, we did walk a bit and I made sure I had my daily constitutional to try to build muscles up again.  It was all rather special, if now seemingly such a long time ago.  I am planning to offer to drive them next year (if not mad, at least to somewhere as lovely and enjoyable as this).

My friends had done everything - booked ferry, booked hotel, prepared itineraries, etc.  It was truly wonderful!  All we had to do was lie back and not think too much of England.

This was the delightful hotel we stayed in in Honfleur.

That's me in the garden, taking a quiet moment before dins to read a book.  And here are my friends exploring a backstreet off the old harbour.

 

And this is a scenic view of the old harbour.

It's lovely isn't it.  I just couldn't stop taking photographs of it.

This is the east side.

And this is the west side, where all the portside restaurants are.  It didn't matter that most of them sold the same food (moules, etc); the setting was just delightful and it was the place to sit and sip a glass of something and watch the sun go down.

This is a sail - technically known, as all nautically-minded folks will tell you, as the little triangular one at the pointy end of the fishing boat.