General Witterings -
Still Here on Rosy

Life continues at a gentle hum here in Briare.

On the Fanny front:

I have now got her walking beside me on AND off the lead (provided that nothing too exciting happens).  She will also run along beside me whilst I'm bicycling, so once or twice a week we have a bike-ride/run along the towing path.

I was reminded by a bit on BBC Radio 4 that I don't have a copy of Fanny Hill on board - I guess I ought to.  And that thought led to a musing on a sketch that I've been involved with several times in reviews etc.  It is a pseudo Victorian melodrama with an evil Baron Hardon and his pretty daughter Fanny.  She is in love with the weedy farm hand, Richard, who goes to America to make his fortune.  He returns, rich, and somewhat larger having eaten lots of buffalo beef.  He exposes Baron Hardon as a crook and villain, and plights his troth to Fanny including the words "If you'll be my little Fanny, I'll be your big Dick".

James and Claret, who own (and are trying to sell) the good ship Castor, appeared.  They fed me salmon, and I drove them to the station where they entrained for Paris, then flew to Greece for a winter holiday.

The following evening we had a 'racelette' party at the Capitainerie  - a racelette being a sort of upside fondue - where little trays of cheese are grilled on the table.  It was a particularly good evening, as there was lots of singing of traditional French songs.  Several tunes rang bells in my memory.  First time round for me, I did "Sur le Pont d'Avignon", number two was "It's a long way to Tipperary" and number three was "I belong to Glasgow".

Fanny loves these parties, as she gets lotsa cuddles and lotsa scoff.

She slept all the next day.

As did I.

The day after that, I attacked the Paloma.  This is the gas-fired instant water heater that was playing up.  The problem is that the "instruction" booklet gives basic operating details, but ignores basic servicing.  This is "dumbing down".  If anything goes wrong, they want you to return it to a dealer/factory.  What was wrong with mine was that the pilot flame was yellow (and kept going out).  It did this 'cos the air intake was blocked with dust.  So, I brushed the air-intake filter with a toothbrush, re-ignited the thing, and got a blue, non-going-out flame.

The work was much complicated by the gas bottle running out of gas half way through the service, but all was OK in the end.

The next day, I did some public duties - brushing leaves and wind-blown detritus off the good ships Aloha, Falcon and Trillium.

Then the Laird of Strathnaver took me out for a meal at "O Sagres", a Portuguese bar in Briare.  The meal was fine, but the owner kept getting angry with various customers, and with his wife who was putting the children to bed, tending the bar, cooking our meals etc. etc.  She eventually took the huff, and retired, in tears, to the house part of the establishment, complete with the night's takings.  Jess the Woof looked kindly at a drunken Frenchman, who instantly wanted to buy her.  The Laird said that the asking price was one million Euros.  Foolishly, I opined that Fanny was available for a mere half million Euros, and relations between Fanny and me have a been a touch strained ever since.

Our food, since you ask, was sardines, followed by roast-beef with haricot beans, followed by cheese.  A red Portuguese wine with the food, and numerous glasses of port afterwards.

Thursday 6th March was a sad day for us all, as François died.  He was living on his boat, moored on the quay beside the St Hubert.  He has been dreadfully ill with a cancer for some time.  In the afternoon I collected some fine sand from a sand-bar on the Loire, and over the next few days washed, cleaned and dried it.  It will be used to form non-slip surfaces on the decks of Rosy.

On the Friday, I spent time tidying up the reveal on the entrance to the shower on Rosy.  The plastic strip was peeling off, so I removed it all, and put some more up.  Fingers crossed that it stays stuck up.

On Sunday, James and Clare came back from Greece, so I met them with their car at the station, and then fed them in the evening - including a nice bottle of Pouilly Fumé.

On Tuesday I put on a suit and tie for the first time for three years for the funeral of François.

That is all.

Toodle pip!!

Bill