TGIF...

The next time you think you're having a bad day...

Fire authorities in California found a corpse in a burned out section of forest while assessing the damage done by a forest fire.
The deceased male was dressed in a full wet suit, complete with scuba tanks on his back, flippers and facemask.
A post-mortem revealed that the person had died not from burns, but from severe internal injuries.

Dental records provided a positive identification.
Investigators then set about to determine how a fully clad diver ended up in the middle of a forest fire.
It was revealed that on the day of the fire, the person went for a diving trip off the coast some 20 miles from the forest.

The firefighters, seeking to control the fire as quickly as possible, called in a fleet of helicopters with very large dip buckets.
Water was scooped from the ocean and then flown to the forest fire and emptied.

You guessed it.

One minute our diver was enjoying himself like Flipper in the Pacific and the next he was doing the breaststroke in a fire dip bucket 300 feet in the air.

Apparantly he extinguished exactly 5'10" of the fire.

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Check it out!

The Sun Shites on the Righteous...

Remember my last post? About the Scottish guy who sent me £10 because he'd underpaid his bill...?
Yes?
Remember how pleased with the world we all were?

Well, last Wednesday one of our waitresses dropped our precious credit card machine and rendered it totally useless!!!
We had to revert to the old swiped vouchers for two days while awaiting for the arrival of a replacement.
This morning the manager began keying the vouchers into the new machine.
Halfway through the fifty or so payments, one of the transactions was refused due to an "invalid card" £46.95...

Aha! Is it still a wonderful world?

Now, I am sure that the person knew the card was invalid and therefore he or she is a THIEF !

Many people do not consider this as a crime...
"Ha, ha, ha... We've just had a free meal!"
Or when they buy fake videos or perfume... Or when they consider tax fraud or social benefits...

But they would never ever steal an egg, you know...

My mother, bless her soul used to say:
"Qui vole un oeuf, vole un boeuf!"
(He who steals an egg can also steal a bull!) Bloody heavier, like!

Does it make me lose hope? No way...
Our Scottish friend's gesture is still fresh in my mind!
There IS always HOPE!

The sun shines on the righteous....

Does it really?

This morning, my faith in human nature was reinforced no end!
A letter containing a Scottish £10 arrived on my desk with the following words:

Scotland, 23rd June 2006
Dear Sir,
I was a customer yesterday at your restaurant with my sisters. The bill at the end of the meal left me feeling rather guilty. Did I pay the full price-not-sure as I left only £40 (Scottish notes) Please find enclosed another £10 (Scottish) which should cover the amount.
I have a feeling it was £43.95 or something.
Please accept my apology.
Thank you
Yours sincerely…
Name (which I cannot make out)

I cannot reply because there was no accompanying address.

This is just one of the honest gestures that sadly do not outweigh the bad experiences... but it shows that there is still hope...

If I am given extra change I always give it back... Am I frightened of the bolt of lightning that may strike as I step out of the shop...No, it just makes me feel good.

I believe that if we can all bring a tiny contribution to the overall feeling of righteousness in this world then it could turn out to be a good world... I am after all the eternal optimist...

So my response to this Scottish anonymous gentleman is this...

Thanks...
...for reminding me that I still live in a

wonderful world....

Back to Earth...

Fish soup as promised by Didier's mother...

I will try to sort out and post some of the photos before the weekend.
Three days of wine, food, friends and sightseeing... Glorious weather!

But back to a cold England, lots of things to sort out, headaches really, a bout of depression (I hate coming back to Earth!) and reality!

More photos...


The Old Cité from the bridge








La Cité at night
































In the Cité

The boys hitting the old town...

More photos on the way...

Back to Earth Continued...

Click on the photos to enlarge...


Young chef who had worked with Didier in the past...and below the restaurant where they were for a Summer season.

A beautiful restaurant next to the Canal du Midi...

Vineyards on the way to Minerve




Minerve (Gave its name to the Minervois region and Wine)
Muscat de St Jean du Minervois is a delicious dessert wine.


Aquaduct (Minerve)


Minerve

Some of the wonderful food we tasted...


Fish Tartare and marinated Magret de Canard (if you like raw stuff!)


Marmite du Pécheur (Fisherman stew with salmon, haddock and prawns.)


Cassoulet (Famous bean stew with confit de Canard)



Foie Gras, at least one of us had some every day. Didier brought a few tins back home.
Out for dinner with his charming parents.


Cheese and salad with the sweetest baby plum tomatoes I have ever tasted...
Didier's mother Sunday lunch...




Seafood Platter. We had enough fish and seafood to last us a month!


Impromptu Choir after a meal...



The Mad Drunken Bunch... Behind the zinc of one of Didier's bar owning friends.

The Invasion of Carcassonne....2006

Sunday morning Carcassonne's invasion commences...
Two Algerians and a Frenchman (originally from Carcassonne but now plying his culinary art in the North East) will descend on two unassuming old age pensioners (Didier's parents) to turn their world upside down for 3 days...

Maman Didier has already bought the ingredients for her famous fish soup with rouille, croutons and cheese...The rest of the meal, I have been told is now a secret! Can't wait...

Papa Didier's dusty cellar will be assaulted from all sides as the Trois Mousquetaires intend to make a dent in it...

We have planned to take them out to dinner at Saskia or Le Jardin de la Tour... but I have a feeling that the theory will not be turned into practice... after the wine-tasting-without-spitting....

Monday, we will spend the day visiting Didier's many old friends, most of whom own bars and restaurants in and around Carca... No doubt, more wine sampling will take place...

In the afternoon we'll be picking up another friend from the airport and he will gently be introduced to Carca's hospitality...

Tuesday we will head for the Blue Med...and St Cyprien...
On the way we may encounter traffic problems due to Tat's gigantic cucumber...

We intend to dip our toes in the sea then sample les spécialités locales and yet more wine...

We'll come back to Earth in our dear North East on Wednesday full of wine, memories and hopefully photos...if I remember to take some...

Balls...

"Come on ref...There's no need for that!"

The World Cup has taken over my spare time even though I have lots of it...
I could watch any team kicking a ball around for 90 minutes...
There are three matches a day and so far I have only missed two!

When I was a kid after we moved to the town, I played football (badly) on our square like all the kids from the neighbourhood. We rolled up our trousers, made goal posts out of heaped coats and jackets.

Our ball was not one of the fancy ones you see kids kicking about these days. It made of light brown plastic and if it got a puncture, that spelt the end of the match.

Playing on that square was forbidden and this invariably attracted the local police on a regular basis. Officers came either in their black Peugeot 203 or on foot.

As soon as they were sighted, we picked the goal posts and the ball and scattered like pigeons.

Once a vicious gendarme managed to snatch the ball from one of the fleeing children. He pulled a knife from his pocket and slowly sliced the ball. This brought tears to our eyes.


During the chase, the older ones among us often went and stood against buildings or lamposts psyching the officers to go after them. These always left the square satisfied that they had successfully disrupted the game.
No sooner that they turned the corner, out came the teams, the coats and the ball.
The play resumed exactly where it had been abandoned.

It was such fun!

For me football is much more than a new strip, a shiny leather ball or flags. It is memories of a happy childhood.


...

The King at Home...

The King overlooks our restaurant's operation...

This is part of the tourism improvements as suggested by Trac!

"I reckon Pie, Mash and Jellied Eels would go down well.
Warm, Flat English Ale...
And life size card board cut outs of the King dotted around the entire area!"
















Marilyn tries to attract the King's attention with a bit of hot air...

Tourism as we know it...

You may remember my post about the interview for membership of our local Tourism Board (Area Tourism Partnership)...

Well, guess what? I have been accepted!

This is it...

Tourism, as you all know it is dead! I am going to turn it upside down!

I'm thinking about suggesting some giant patio heaters to cover the whole of Tees Valley.

Within a few months this stretch of the North Sea will turn totally tropical.

Palm trees, Bougainvillea and Cacti will be planted along the coast.

I will ask my friends in Algeria to send me 200 hundred Camels...

Why, Cream? You haven't started smoking again, have you?
No, I haven't, man... It's real camels that I need...
Beau Geste stuff and all that Saharan Jazz!

The next stage will be the building of a Disney-style park on the outskirts of Middlesbrough where local delicacies will be on offer to American tourists...
Whelk burgers and fries, Giant fish and chips and Yorkshire Puddings filled with T-bone steak and maple syrup, etc...
Have a nice day, chuck!

Andy Capp will be our local mascot and mother-law jokes will be included in the Charter...

Now, I would like my Blogging friends to come up with SUGGESTIONS that I can put to our Chairman next week...

Don't be shy, now! Anything will be considered except a DOME ...
(Trac, you can keep yours!)

Spanish Lessons...

David (pronounced like Ginola) the guy from Barcelona did not contact me after our first date back in March.
I put it down to my dull personality or the fact that I did not get his Spanish humour...

On Monday, he called and explained that he had left his mobile phone in Barcelona the last time he visited his parents and that was why he had not contacted me...

At the time we had arranged to meet on a regular basis to give us a chance to improve our languages...English for him and Spanish for me... If you ever meet a Spanish guy in Barcelona speaking with an Algerian Geordie accent, that is David!

We met yesterday at one o'clock in Newcastle. The weather was truly Mediterranean so we headed for the quayside and went to the Baltic for a drink and a session of Anglo-Spanish chat...

Two and half hours of hand-signals, roundabout-ways, lots of laughs and we really hit it off! So much so that we have definitely agreed to meet once a week!

I have been advised against using a dictionary because "it is more fun to learn words by describing them using the vocabulary already acquired." Yes, miss!

I can make myself understood but, being a wee bit of a perfectionist (at the things I really like) I want to be able to speak Spanish fairly well...

I have a feeling that this kind of "date" will enable me to do just exactly that!
Now I sound something like this...

How powerful are you?

Your Power Level is: 87%

You have all the tools you need to be a succes both professionally and personally. You'll probably go beyond reaching your goals. You'll change the world (at least a little).

How Powerful Are You?

These quizzes are great to alleviate the monotony of a Tuesday morning when all you want is to down tools and sail away into the sunset!
I did it a while ago when I was feeling great and full of zest… I love this word “zest”… the scent of lemons…

I am sure that if I tested my power today, I would score a lot less.

I am far from feeling powerless… More like in the hands of destiny…

I have always been the fatalistic kind of guy, never fighting against the tide, philosophically accepting whatever life dished out...

I have travelled this road of mine with very little to whinge about, never really experiencing life’s true hardships, ferocity or unfairness, never tempting fate or dabbling with lady luck…

I devoted my time to solving trivial problems as if they could put an end to war and hunger… Burying my head in the sand and busying myself with picking the fluff out of my belly button…

Over a month ago, I looked in the mirror and noticed my greying moustache…

I got off the slow coach and boarded a high-speed train heading towards an unknown destination … My short hair flapping in the wind, I feel like a teenager once again…

My fellow passengers have shared their bread and wine with me and our long and arduous journey has only just begun…

Do I want to get off this train? The thought crossed my mind for a fleeting second.

Three years ago I got a tiny taste of this ride but could not wait to jump off after just a few miles. My phobia of dark tunnels had won the day…

Today, though I know that this new frightening journey will take me over rough terrain and unchartered territory, I have decided to belt up, brace myself and power away...

Do I still still feel powerless? No way!

I have the power!

...

Sunny days and cold pizza...

I took these photos Friday evening! Today has been even warmer!

Our Casa del Mar terrace...











Arty Farty stuff....












I came to the UK at the age of 22 and have lived here longer than I did in Algeria. But I still long for the sun and the Med ...

When days like these manage to break through the grey monotony of the North East coast my heart skips a few beats....

On days like this I begin fancying chargrilled foods, salads, fresh fish, Rosé, ice cold lagers, long walks, a watermelon on a the beach, the sound of cicadas...


Tomorrow: BBQ for sure!

Accidental Tourist...

This morning I put on my other suit (not the one with the torn jacket, that ended up in the bin!) and headed for the local airport!

I wasn't flying anywhere...
I attended an interview at the neighbouring hotel!
Can you believe it! The first formal interview I have ever had in my life!

My first job at 26: Kitchen-Porter...
In the early eighties, after two years studying mind-numbing Naval Architecture, I walked into a Pizzeria in Newcastle...

The Boss "interviewed" me. standing at the bar.
I bluffed: "Well, I can cook a little!"
He replied: "I need someone for the washing-up! "
I asked: "When can I start?"
He gave me an apron and said: "There's the sink!"

Just like that! Honestly true story!

...But this morning's was another kind of interview.

Our town council tourism department suggested that I should apply for the post of member in the yet to be formed Tees Valley Tourism Board.
Being part of the local business community I have a vested interest in what goes on around me.

I filled an application and emphasized my knowledge of foreign languages... I could be a tour guide, if all fails...

I got there half an hour early.
So I sat in the car listening to France Inter...watching jet planes take off...dreaming of leaving on one of them...

The interview was formal with the chairman of the board and three other regional tourism officials.

"So, please tell us what you think the board's work will entail."

What the hell do I know?

All I know is:
-train people well,
-provide adequate means to show off the local product,
-give them a region to be proud of,
-make them understand that tourism, however abstract the concept may be, will secure the future of the area...
Etc...

Really all the bullshit I dish out day in, day out...

How did the interview go? I have a feeling that I scored well...
But then I have always been an optimist...

"You'll hear of our decision in the next few days...."

"What do you mean? I don't start right now??"