12th February
In order to keep up with any hot insect-related gossip and generally find out who’s who around here, my best networking territory is the village bar, so I have a vested interest in it’s continued existence.
Mr and Mrs Strange (a British couple) took over the bar last summer, the pétanque club got started, supper events happened, it was popular with the French, British and Dutch communities - then Mr Strange needed to disappear.
One day the Strange parents were replaced* by their eldest son Kurt, a goth rocker/death metal fan and his Scandanavian wife, Courtney. This couple have spent the last few months looking as though they had accidentally pressed the wrong buttons on the teleporter.
Mrs Strange recently came back to visit her bar and there was a big shouting match, this resulted in her son buying air tickets back to Denmark, he has not mentioned this to his mother. Courtney asked me to keep quiet about it because they wanted to break the news at an 'appropriate moment’.
The 'appropriate moment’ didn’t happen and Mrs Strange has gone away again. Courtney said that she thinks the news will sound better in an email. She’d like me to stay quiet about their departure because they are hoping that the other, younger, brother will turn up to take over - a minor obstacle being that he doesn’t want to.
I’m useless at secrets and I really don’t want to keep this one. The pétanque club has just become registered to host tournaments at the village bar, the process has taken months, when it was finalised there was huge joy from the players, match dates for the year are now fixed.
*Mrs Strange did tell me about their flit some time before they left. I was sworn to secrecy on pain of death.
Homeric Hapaxes.
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Via Laudator Temporis Acti, a quote from Bryan Hainsworth, The Iliad: A
Commentary, Volume III: Books 9-12 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1993; rp...
6 hours ago
There are a lot of people who pressed the wrong buttons it seems. I remember trying to shock when I was younger.
ReplyDeleteCan't they find some local fellow called Gaston to run the bar? If I went to a bar in France, I'd want to be served by a genuine snail-eating Frenchie.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I am cut out for bar strife. I never would have made it in the days of the Wild West or these days in France.
ReplyDeleteThis is a fascinating story and I can't wait to find out how it ends but I worry that you are playing with fire. (Secrets, that is...) I know you are in deep cover, but does no one there know of your secret blogger identity? That picture of Kurt always gives me the whim whams.
ReplyDeletebb - it's all part of growing up
ReplyDeleteGorilla - I'd love a Frenchie to run it, problem is that the last few at the bar went broke, rural france is littered with shut pubs
Xl - I keep a gun in my pocket round here and pretend it's a banana
KSV - Kurt gives me the whim whams, but his brother is worse, God help us if he turns up.
I have mentioned that I'm writing about all this, and no-one believes me.
I do hope that somebody comes and runs this bar and makes it the type of wholesome thing people presumably emigrate to France for. (If you're into death metal surely you'd emigrate to places like Wolverhampton, Walsall, etc.)
ReplyDeleteThis tale is edging towards a fascinating and inevitable denouement. Will younger son appear? Is he an IT assistant from the London Borough of Lewisham? Or if not, what?
ReplyDeleteI reckon the younger brother will be Mr Normal and everyone will be bored with him.
ReplyDeleteShall I see if Pat Butcher or Peggy Mitchell are free? They're very good at keeping secrets.
ReplyDeleteSx
Gadjo - I'd just like someone to come and run the bar who wants to be there.
ReplyDeleteBT - I've met the younger brother, he is not an IT man from Lewisham.
Frenchie - nor is he any sort of Mr Normal
Scarlet - Pat Butcher and her giant earrings would sort that place out.
Lulu, right now I'd like to be there. I have No Idea whether I could run a bar, but at least I'd try to be positive.
ReplyDeleteI hear that bar serves a delicious earwig sandwich.
ReplyDeleteGadj - I think you'd better get over here
ReplyDeleteWow - the earwig sandwiches are served at my house, the bar serves molotov cocktails and acid reflux
The British who practise the petanque It is "Strange" ,that amazes me !
ReplyDeleteCrabtree - It is possible there will be one less British person playing pétanque in future
ReplyDelete