Day Four at La Giraudiere
Trip Start
May 05, 2008
1
5
Trip End
Jun 06, 2008
Brossac Charente, France
Sunday, February 8, 2009
sign of things to come, I feared. However, being as I was inside a
blanket and absorbed in the boyish mentality that literally, literally
nothing can 'get' you (with the exception of needing the toilet), I
felt that everything would be safe and/or toasty in the coming hours.
And toasty it was. I started off working on the webpage for Mamie
Bulles Restaurant in Brossac. This involved walking all the way there
in the pouring rain to be told 'come back at 2:30'. Luckily, Paul had
prepared some delicious paté on toast. With a nice bit of Brie and some
vin rouge, I felt strangely indifferent to the weather, like a man
who's had his last meal and faces the guillotine with stoic acceptance.
Well, a little different to him. But nevertheless, eager (eager? He's
probably not that either) and full. That's probably the only thing the
man and I have in common, actually.
En route, I decided to take a snap of the torrential rain, with the
umbrella covering a good 80% of the landscape. I felt the European
Union brolley was a pretty nice touch in showing the unification of
France and England, at least weather-wise. But it turned out to be a
great afternoon. I chatted with Frédéric, the barman, for a while about
his business in my stunted French, which he was most forgiving of. In
fact, I even got a free beer. J'adore la France!
When I arrived home, Dave and Ann, the new couple, had arrived. We
broke the ice and got along fine. We had a few glasses of Glendronach,
which Dave kindly brought over; the best-tasting (and only) whisky
where my single priority has been its appreciation. Michelle, an
American woman, also arrived today. She definitely seems quite nice. I
couldn't help but feel a little out of place, though, during the course
of the evening. There was a 16-year age gap between myself and the
next-youngest person at the table, which meant putting something mature
into the conversation required thought. And Simon's thought and
over-analysis means that by the time he's thought of an awful pun, the
conversation's moved on. The only thing worse than a bad pun is a badly
timed bad pun.
It was nice meeting everyone though, and I could tell within a few days
most things would turn out to be fine and 'dandé', as the French
probably don't say.
Comments
Would you recommend working at LA GIRAUDIERE?