Since we arrived in the land of sunshine and cigarettes we (we being me and Rachel, my parter in crime for the duration of this working holiday) have been on a couple of trips into civilisation.
First came Cognac for the Blues Festival.
Well I say Blues Festival.
We didn’t actually have tickets.
Instead of seeing once-semi-famous-blues-bands “rock out” to some old tunes on stage we saw post middle age men in biker gear drinking beer and having impromptu “jam sessions” in bars.
Basically the same thing right?
Cognac itself was a quiet sleepy little town with not a lot to offer.
Well, except Cognac, but we didn’t drink any of that either.
Just as we were about to give up and sit down to eat our home made French baguettes (more like a soggy school lunch sandwich but you know, when in Rome….or…errr, France), we were surrounded by a marching band and serenaded with WHAM!’s ‘Careless Whisper’.
20 good looking French boys blowing their trumpets for us?
Don’t mind if we do.
Next came La Rochelle, a gorgeous port town where we behaved like sensible adults, dining in a French bistro, spending all of our weeks wages on clothes and jewellery (Rachel) and riding on a Ferris wheel.
Even though it tipped it down with rain when we decided to have a sit down by the river, we never wanted to leave.
Finally we had a trip to Saintes to celebrate Bastille Day on the 14th of July.
I treated myself to a candy floss bigger than the size of my whole upper body #health, and was banned by Rachel from going on the French themed merry-go-round because I was too old and it would be too embarrasing.
I was very disappointed I didn’t get a ride on a giant cock.
Cock as in cockerel you filthy people.
The animal, not the….
Just before the fireworks started, we heeded warnings about the idiots with deck chairs who found themselves nice comfy spots an hour before the display only to find that their view was obstructed by trees.
We sat down all smug a few minutes early on a comfy little grass verge with beautiful views over the river and a clear view of the sky.
Well, so we thought.
Guess which twats couldn’t see the fireworks.
Yes, we had to get up and run, and ended up in a giant crowd on tip toes trying to peer over some very tall persons shoulders.