General Witterings -
Rosy Winters On

Many thanks for all the helpful information and hints about how to proceed from here regarding future voyages etc with Rosy (or not - as the case may be).  I'm still keeping options open, though am being hampered by the reluctance of the purveyors of new(ish) engines to reply to requests for information.

Rosy is now the proud possessor of a General Ecology 'Nature Pure' water purifier - claiming to provide tap water at least as pure as bottled water.  We shall see.

I was pretty impressed with the depth of knowledge of folk regarding the physiology of ducks' throats.  Apparently ducks don't produce saliva, so can't swallow dry bread - it has to be wet.  Here in Briare, one duck is ahead of the game.  She CAN catch a piece of thrown bread, dunking it in the water before swallowing it.

I was invited out by the Laird of Strathnaver to a whingding in the Bar de Briare - a local watering hole.  They were doing a special 'moules frites' on Saturday night.  We arrived - he in his kilt.  Most people were tipsy - several were seriously blotto.

One chap had that strange face that comes when the alcohol causes a complete relaxation of the facial muscles.  I believe that the modern expression is 'shit-faced' but I hesitate to use the expression, as some readers may find it offensive.  So I won't.  Anyway, he surveyed us - Rex in his kilt and moi.

I think I can best illustrate our 'conversation' by way of a computer program.  I learned a bit of COBOL and a bit of BASIC, and haven't programmed for some 20 years, so the following is a bit iffy.  I guess its a mixture of the two, so it's either COBAS or BOLIC.  Guess what - I prefer the later.

Anyway, here is the conversation:

1000 START
1010 LET N=1
1020 HIM "BONJOUR LES ANGLAIS"
1030 US "BONJOUR.  MAIS PAS ANGLAIS.  ECOSSE"
1040 LET M=RND 1 TO 12
1050 LET K=1
1060 HIM "HA.  ECOSSE.  NO PROBLEM.  HIC.  NO PROBLEM"
1070 IF K=M THEM GOTO 2000 ELSE
1080 LET K=K+1
1090 GOTO 1060
2000 IF N<INFINITY THEN GOTO 1070 ELSE
2010 GOTO 1020
2020 IF N=>INFINITY THEN 2030 END

It's at times like this that I remember why I'm not awfully keen on bars.

Then a second seriously pissed, large, fleshy chap appeared, and took exception either to the Laird's kilt, or to the Laird's bottom (which the Laird displayed three or four times during the course of the evening to folks who enquired "Les culottes ou pas culottes?"

The large fleshy chap (LFC) lunged at the Laird's legs, and swiped his skean dhu.  The Laird by this time had had a few, and rushed LFC provoking a serious contretemps.  The tipsyish to tipsy+ crowd went to restrain LFC (who looked fittish and fortyish), whilst the rather attractive barmaid and I restrained the 70ish Laird who was muttering "I'll kill him.  I'll kill him".  I refrained from saying "Not if he kills you first, matey" which, had they been loose against each other, seemed more than likely.

At this point things looked as if they might become seriously serious, especially when Monsieur le Chef deserted his post out back at the chip pan (the moules cook themselves - it's the chips you have to watch) and appeared in the doorway wielding his favoured 12lb stainless steel ladle.

For reasons and circumstances that I can't now recall, I ended up with the skean dhu, and decided that it was not a good thing to have.  I called for the barman who was hiding behind the bar, and asked him to put it in the locked cash drawer.  I wiped my finger prints off it before passing it to him.

At this point, the Laird disengaged himself from his affray with LFC and took to accusing MOI of selling his family heirloom (i.e.  the aforesaid skean dhu) to the barman who, it transpires, is a barman only as his front - in reality he is the local fence!!!! 

I'm not awfully anxious to meet the local constabulary at present, as I'm engaged in some minor illegalities of my own.  France has cheap, untaxed, red diesel, but only for use in commercial boats.  Pleasure boats are supposed to use the expensive white diesel.  BUT you can buy the red stuff for oil fired heating.  As I'm now moored up for the winter, I've taken a delivery of the red stuff, which I burn in a diesel stove.  The red costs 0.43 Euro a litre, the white 0.74 Euro +++ (even up to one Euro) per litre.

The Laird is off to the far North of Scotland for a week to inspect his estates, so I'll be looking after Jess the Woof.  He should be bringing back with him a wooflet for me.  I was going to call her Josh (as in Josher - a type of narrow boat) and had even got Jeff Dennison's permission to use this name.  On second thoughts, though, I've thought of a rather more feminine name for her.  I'll tell you later.

Toodle pip!!

Bill