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A Brit, Abroad
Having spent a week in Nice recently I thought it may be apt to make a few comments, or observations, about my holiday…
Firstly, queuing. Having spent the majority of my life in the U.K. I’ve become accustomed - nay, attached - to queuing. It’s an elegant, non-confrontational, way to maintain order and establish who is first. It’s just good practice, I can’t see how it can be bested. However, I know that it’s not the norm in the rest of the world, and I’m more than willing to accept that… but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety whilst waiting for a bus.
As soon as the bus arrived, with the doors closed, people began to gather - and push, and shove - around the afore mentioned door. The aim of this struggle appeared to be an attempt to establish a hierarchy, the victor of this epic would be allowed to stand directly in front of a closed door.
An Alpha Female emerged, dominant amongst the crowd, and rather pleased with herself, until the door opened. Much to her surprise the door swung outwards, making contact with her nose and creating a rift in the crowd.
How dare the door open into her face, what was the bus driver thinking!? The door should have opened inwards! And for crying out loud, someone else got on the bus before her. So much for Liberté, égalité, fraternité!
Secondly, food. Now I know it’s more than a little bit predictable to come back from France and talk about food, but they sure know what they’re doing. I was expecting a bit of trouble, being a good for nothing vegetarian, but it really wasn’t bad.
By george, breakfast! When there’s a choice between grease and tea so milky you might as well have not bothered, or a selection of pastries and freshly pressed coffee I know what I’d choose! Even the pastries from the supermarket were of a high quality - at least to my untrained palette.
Perhaps rather predictably I was quite taken by the cheese. Never has this chap had such a good selection of cheese. I can’t really comment on specifics, because I wasn’t taking notes, but that strange, amorphous, orange block from the supermarket isn’t ever going to cut it again. Marvellous.
Thirdly, balconies. I know they’re not a particularly French thing, but I’ve fallen in love with the idea of a balcony. Watching the world go by as you eat your breakfast, or sitting in the breeze as you read, is splendid.
The things you see can be amazing, or mundane, but a lot more interesting than the plain white walls of an apartment. If only the British weather was more suited to it…
Well, there we go. I may or may not get round to assembling a selection of photos to share with you all, we’ll see how I’m feeling.
Toothpaste
An odd topic, and not something I can talk about for any length of time. We all use it and none of us give it any thought. Well that all changed for me today and I just wanted to share my little discovery with you…
Imagine, there I am, browsing the “Dental hygiene” section of a well known retailer and this little fellow appears in my peripheries. On closer inspection it turns out Euthymol is “A Scientific Dental Preparation”, which is fortunate. I for one am not going to put anything in my mouth unless it’s been prepared scientifically.
Upon opening the tube I see it’s unique qualities. The stuff is bright pink, smells a little bit like Deep Heat and tastes how it smells. Research (and by tat I mean a quick Google and a little look at Wikipedia) revealed that the active ingredient and the ingredient that gives it it’s distinctive taste is Bituminous Coal…
It’s quite a medicinal toothpaste but I like it, the stuff is just eccentric for eccentricities sake. I don’t know what made me buy it, other than the funky packaging and the promise of scientific cleanliness.
Thus concludes today’s strange little diversion.
On The Wireless
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight - The Spaniels
A nice, calm, and relaxing song. There’s not really much I can say that you wouldn’t find out from listening to the track of your own accord. That’s never stopped me before, so I will state “It’s probably one to enjoy when unwinding, perhaps with a drink, or at the end of an evening with some friends - if they’d permit it.”
A style of music that seems old-worldy (if you’ll permit such a ham-fisted phrase) yet somewhat timeless. Or perhaps that’s just me…
I shall ramble no longer, enjoy it.
On Head-wear
As some may know I will, on an occasion, don a thick tweed flat cap and quite enjoy doing so. These warm summer months have demanded some form of head-wear yet have been less than suited to my normal cap. Thus the journey for a new hat began.
I could have settled for a linen flat cap and been done with it but I was feeling al little more adventurous. There were, in all reality, three possible choices, which I shall discuss now…
1) The Panama Hat
Being a quintessential summer hat this was first on my list. These are wide brimmed hats that originate in Ecuador, they are traditionally made from finely woven toquilla straw and are very flexible. Their flexibility makes them great for travelling, surely a plus.
2) The Trilby
A hat I’m sure we’re all familiar with. Often made from felt Trilbys have a much shorter brim than the Panama and are more indented along the top. They had a great deal of popularity during the 1930’s and 40’s and are making something of a come back.
3) The (slightly ridiculous) Homburg
Slightly larger than the Trilby in terms of brim and with, perhaps, a little less flair and more formality. They too are often made of felt and have enjoyed a great deal of popularity. As they are larger and hard, they can be difficult to travel with.
After contemplating my choices, I decided to head out into the real world and see what there was on offer. Many hours were spent, many hats were tried on, and many retailers (reputable and not so) were visited. In the end it came down to what was available within my meagre budget and I settled for a rather smart straw trilby. It has a smaller brim so is portable yet enough shape to be instantly recognisable. I can tell it shall serve me well.
Barnstormer
After discussing some more esoteric drinks, I thought it might be nice to give some consideration to the humble beer, one of my favourite beverages. Clearly, however, some narrowing down must be done as breer is a genre of drink that spans from the likes of Fosters to Brew Dog’s 41% ABV Sink the Bismark.
I should, therefore, follow convention and talk about one drink - Bath Ales’ Barnstormer. I’m fortunate enough to live close to some great micro-breweries and some larger independent breweries, but this particular offering by Bath Ales doesn’t half shine out.
Barnstormer is a lovely, dark, malty beer. As such it’s got a slight chocolaty taste to it, with a number of sweet, fruity notes. It’s bloody refreshing on a warm day and after a bottle I’m only left wishing I’d stock-piled a few more when it was readily available. I may have to venture out into the wild and see if I can pick some up.
For those who like lighter ales it’s not too dark or heavy, and as such could be seen as a nice introduction to darker beers.
Bath Ales is a an independent and relativity young micro-brewery who produce some of the finest beers I’ve had. If you see anything they make, if not Barnstormer, give it a go.
The Talkies
One stumbled across this the other evening, rather amusing! There are several other Noel Coward parodies but this is by far the best (and perhaps better than some of his actual work, if I am permitted to make such a bold and outrageous statement).
It’s rather well done though some video might improve things. One can not have it all, I guess.
Well, I cant even remember how I found it or what I was looking for when I did - such are the marvels of this modern world. It was probably something equally as obscure…
The Hunt for Tweed - A Reprise.
(Following on from The Hunt for Tweed)
And thus the quest continued, the charity shops of this great city were trawled and little became of it. In a fit desperation I gave up on the hunt, believing the Tweed Jacket was to be little more than pipe dream, little more than a distant memory and a mildly amusing blog post.
Then it happened. The gods of the charity shops were smiling upon me. I stumbled into a shop, dragged in by company, and decided it might be an idea to browse the jackets; and there it was. A jacket that fit perfectly, fulfilled the bill in every way, and was cheap to boot.
Oh my. What a pleasure to wear. There is little one can say about a jacket, as we all know what they are like. I can’t claim it’s anything spectacular, but its my tweed jacked, and it pleases me.
But the charity shop did not only reveal a tweed jacket. As I was dragged - but not by force, this time - into another I managed to pick up two books that have further fueled my burgeoning love of Romantic poetry - The Penguin Book of Romantic Verse and Byron, The Poetical Works. One has started to read Byron’s Don Juan, what a marvellous poem.
It appears charity shops are beginning to redeem themselves and that patience is truly a virtue. Some of my former gripes still remain, but alas, one can not have it all.
I guess little more remains that to say that I am well and truly chuffed.
Glenfiddich
Ah, alcohol. A friend of mine gave me a bottle of 12 year Glenfiddich a few days ago and though I’ve had it before I thought now was as good a time as any to give it a little review.
I don’t have a great deal to add to the wealth of information that’s already around regarding this - or any other - whiskey, but that’s hardly a reason to keep my self to my self now, is it?
It’s a nice whiskey with an interesting set of aromas and an equally as interesting taste.
The nose reveals a sweet note, along with something of a fruity - pear like - quality and a slight butteriness, all complemented by the smokiness you’d expect from a scotch.
The taste is much the same, smoky and warming with a fruitiness and a subtle biscuitiness - if you’ll permit the new word. It has a oily yet slightly dry mouth feel to it. All in all something of a delight.
Alas, I am no whiskey connoisseur and know of the bad rep Glenfiddich gets, but it’s a fine drink and something I always like to have on hand. It’s reasonably priced, and like most things you get what you pay for - it’s neither too simple, nor too complex to enjoy on a quiet night.
Keats!
Another slow week, chaps. Though I have used some of my spare (and not so spare) time to look at some poetry, now wishing to add Keats to my list of poets I quite like - making a list of two, Byron and Keats.
I feel the onward march of civility and the rumblings of sophistication in my northern mind!
So, as with Byron a poem I liked and a link to some more…
Give me women, wine and snuff
Until I cry out “hold, enough!”
You may do so sans objection
Till the day of resurrection;
For bless my beard they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.
Mildly amusing, no?
Well, back to academia I must go… I’m nearing then end of this busy period, so you may be treated to a more rambling post soon, whoever “you” may be.
The Weather!
Alas, another short post this week. The demands of academia have quelled my desire to write long pieces of prose and have all but reduced me to a shadow of my former self.
But it’s not all doom and gloom, it”s sunny! And what more noble a subject than the weather? Complaining when its hot, or cold, windy, rainy or snowy is a mainstay of conversation up and down this isle. I guess I should stick my oar in then.
Cor blimey it’s hot! Good with it too, not that awful kind of hot that you can’t escape, but that kind of hot where a pleasant breeze drifts by and cools you down. The kind of hot that makes everything seem bright and happy, or something equally as pretentious and poetic.
It’s a shame I can’t be outside, but thus are the demands of education. Looks like it’s going to last, so I can enjoy it soon. And I’m awaiting that inevitable thunder-storm with great anticipation because then I can complain once more, and be wholly in my element.
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