Sunday, 18 August 2013
Friday, 16 August 2013
Driving in France
KM = sleek, sexy, modern. If you take a dislike to one, at least you know it'll be over quickly.
Miles = dirty, 1950s, imperialist, powdered eggy. They go on for ever.
Kilometre to mile used to be roughly the same equation as euro to pound. Creme de Menthe in Carrefour costs way more than it used to. You can't devalue a kilometre though. It has too much integrity.
1200km London to Toulouse. 1200km is about 750 miles. But 1200km does by much more quickly than that.
The villain here is Kenneth Baker. Or Geoffery Howe. I can't remember which, but in the 70s one of them had the opportunity to switch us to both metric and a decimal week, but bottled it. Tories screw everything up.
Driving long distances in France alone in a right-hand drive car is a pain. The best autoroutes all have péages, where you stop and take a ticket, or hand it over and pay. The booths are, of course, all on the left (socialism is still just about alive in France). In summers of yesteryear I would simply have one of the many Mr Pandasandwichs deal with the machine or boy, but je roule solo these days baby. So now I have to get out and run round each time. An unedifying sight for the farmers and balloonists.
No picture of this - the fuzz were all over me man.
Miles = dirty, 1950s, imperialist, powdered eggy. They go on for ever.
Kilometre to mile used to be roughly the same equation as euro to pound. Creme de Menthe in Carrefour costs way more than it used to. You can't devalue a kilometre though. It has too much integrity.
1200km London to Toulouse. 1200km is about 750 miles. But 1200km does by much more quickly than that.
The villain here is Kenneth Baker. Or Geoffery Howe. I can't remember which, but in the 70s one of them had the opportunity to switch us to both metric and a decimal week, but bottled it. Tories screw everything up.
Driving long distances in France alone in a right-hand drive car is a pain. The best autoroutes all have péages, where you stop and take a ticket, or hand it over and pay. The booths are, of course, all on the left (socialism is still just about alive in France). In summers of yesteryear I would simply have one of the many Mr Pandasandwichs deal with the machine or boy, but je roule solo these days baby. So now I have to get out and run round each time. An unedifying sight for the farmers and balloonists.
No picture of this - the fuzz were all over me man.
Thursday, 15 August 2013
First meal in France.
Continuing the now celebrated French Surfaces project. Shops shut early in France.
Why did it melt? Who can say?
Ill-considered French lighting disaster scenario (also the title of the fith Fall album)
Luxury hotel room in Boulogne
Emotional ferry hand
A tiny ferry worker digests the contents of a troubling text message, perhaps from a lover in Paraguay, or Minsk.
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