Thursday, August 19
The France Diaries: One
Day One- Wednesday 4th
5:57pm
Its bloody melting in here. Hot like you wouldn't want to know. The legs on my bondge trousers have been unzipped, the beanie has been removed, and nothing adorns my wrists, and it still feels like being taped to the fiery armpits of Satan himself.
We've been here for about 10 minutes now, after a two hour drive in Blighty, an hour on a ferry, and about three hours driving through the French countryside. And you can't say it's like home, simply because it isn't. There's a vast gulf between the architecture. At the very least, the French prefer their houses to be a particular shade of tan, as opposed to white. Must be the stone.
Now, we have a wodge of difficulties to contend with.-I need to find a peer group.-I am useless at developing new peer groups by myself.-I have the Brothers Dimm in tow.-Big Brother will therefore tail me like a puppydog.-Big Brother (is not equal to) gaining the respect of any peer group.-I only have €60 to play around with-Drink still costs a pretty penny, I'd imagine.-Tourists = fleecing material.-I have 14 days of this to go.
Very soon, I may have to explore the avenues provided by getting a tan. Or swimming. Or dinner. Whatever.
Day Two - Thursday 5th
11.36pm
I didn't write anything today, because nothing really happened. MY activity was divided between swimming, eating, reading (the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, should you care), and seeing the local sights. Which amount to being an anonymous castle, and the railway carriage which the Armistice (sp) was signed in 1918. That was relativly interesting, until I'd seen everything in the room the carriage was housed in three times. Shint swords though.
Little Brother wondered why he wasn't allowed to buy a BB gun from the souviners of the latter sight. There's so much irony and general (un)funniness in that statement I won't bother.
After seeing said castle, we stopped off in a rural Frenc vllage, where Little Brother sulked because he wanted to go back to the caravan, sulked because the waiter had never heard of Dr Pepper, sulked because he couldn't have pizza (despite having had it the day before) and topped it off with a bit of sulking because he didn't want to go back to the caravan. Not wanting to deny him his immature rights, I merely failed to enjoy a bottle of cider. Too sweet, not tart enough.
Tomorrow, we're off to the commerical pardise of Disneyland Paris. Expect three hours of queuing per ride, hoardes of screaming puking kids, and substancially less hot chicks than there were in Disneyland LA.
There's alarmingly few hot chicks at this campsite, and the few that are here are either MILFs (not a colloquial term), or taken. I suppose it stands to reason - this is a family holiday campsite, and hot chicks usually don't do that sort of thing. But still, one does need some poolside eye-candy....
Day Four - Saturday 7th
10:15am
Two out of three isn't bad Yesterday, there were hoardes of mewling bags of shit - or crying children, as they are sometimes called - and there were much fewer hot chicks then there were in Disneyland LA. By all means, there were plenty. but LA was, in fact, a wet dream.
Naturally, I went on all the actual decent rides, while the family contented themselves with the twee childrens rides. Space Mountain, boys and girls, is something you have to do if you enjoy the sensation of your dinner moving in directions other than "up" or "down".
As for souviners, all I bought (apart from hiediously overpriced refreshment) was a pirate T-shirt. Hey, we all like pirates, right?
Now we're off down south. For six hours. Great...
6:53pm
We've been going for a bit under five hours. Sometime after 11, I recall. Its not been nightmarish, but I've bled my CD collection dry in the meanwhile, and powered my way through an entire 530-page book. Well, so much for His Dark Materials then, I've polished off all three books already.
I've seen yet more of rural France, and I'd like to say its interesting - but it isn't. Its quite decrepit. If it wasn't for the actual people and cars going around, one could quite easily imagine it to be a post-Armageddon wasteland. Oh hyeah, and the crops too, couldn't have them.
I've got no idea how much further it is to our next campsite, but I'm praying it's not far. I've only got two hours of battery on this laptop, I'm hungry, and my arse feels so numb, its probably falling off. Plus, I think the air conditioning is starting to give up.
7:05pm
Oh, its only 3.5km away...
8:05pm
We're here at bloody last. OK, we've actually been here for a relative while, but I've only just got out the laptop to make comment.
Its quite isolated out here. There isn't even an on-site shop, which makes buying bread a bit of a nightmare, the games room amounts to be "a pool table and a pinball machine",and the pool (which I have just frequented) is a barren and cold experience. However, there is a benefit to this site.
Its a royal totty-fest.
I mentioned the other day how all the hot-chicks weren't staying where we were. I reckon that this is because they all come here. Only about two women I remember seeing weren't damn fine examples of womanhood. One was actually round, and the other was an infant. If I get lucky this holiday, it'll be here.
However, there's a problem. There'll be a picture that Big Brother has just taken, with me topless. Yes, the mullet was flowing locks (although now they're going hard...), but the body is pasty, hairy in the wrong places, and pale as hell. I've had praise for my pale form (crossref: the ladies of the Chefelf forums), but for women I've actually met, its probably quite revolting. I wonder how TinyOne can have liked it, although I think that the person drew her in, and the body drove her away (I reckon I'll get flamed in a week and a half over MSN for writing that...)
So, my priorities:-Find a tan, and rapidly.-If at all possible, buy a new pair of swimming shorts (a pair not demeaningly short)-Score with a hot chica, or maybe two if I can be arrogent enough.-Actually write the two stories I said I'd write (ie, a My Fool is a Crock story, and a story based on Alice in Wonderland{link?})-Relax, I suppose.-Write some updates.
Day Five - Sunday 8th
11:13am
Oh great, we're only a quarter of the way in, and the laptop screen's playing silly buggers with me. That's just plain dandy.
Quiet day thus far. It seems that the sofa is now officially my bed - I can't actually get any sleep on the normal beds, they're nearly as uncomfortable as the barge boats. Why am I doomed to spend every trip I make this holiday sleeping on iron-hard beds?
6:32pm
Got cut off earlier by the screen freezing on me. Everything else was fine, just that the screen wouldn't move. Ah well, there wasn't that much more to say, really.
First beach trip of the holiday. I left the caravan pale, and I came back pale, red in parts, and covered in sand. Hurrah for the sun and its magic tan-giving properties...
However, I did find the time to recreate the likeness of Henry Skull in the sand.
5:57pm
Its bloody melting in here. Hot like you wouldn't want to know. The legs on my bondge trousers have been unzipped, the beanie has been removed, and nothing adorns my wrists, and it still feels like being taped to the fiery armpits of Satan himself.
We've been here for about 10 minutes now, after a two hour drive in Blighty, an hour on a ferry, and about three hours driving through the French countryside. And you can't say it's like home, simply because it isn't. There's a vast gulf between the architecture. At the very least, the French prefer their houses to be a particular shade of tan, as opposed to white. Must be the stone.
Now, we have a wodge of difficulties to contend with.-I need to find a peer group.-I am useless at developing new peer groups by myself.-I have the Brothers Dimm in tow.-Big Brother will therefore tail me like a puppydog.-Big Brother (is not equal to) gaining the respect of any peer group.-I only have €60 to play around with-Drink still costs a pretty penny, I'd imagine.-Tourists = fleecing material.-I have 14 days of this to go.
Very soon, I may have to explore the avenues provided by getting a tan. Or swimming. Or dinner. Whatever.
Day Two - Thursday 5th
11.36pm
I didn't write anything today, because nothing really happened. MY activity was divided between swimming, eating, reading (the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, should you care), and seeing the local sights. Which amount to being an anonymous castle, and the railway carriage which the Armistice (sp) was signed in 1918. That was relativly interesting, until I'd seen everything in the room the carriage was housed in three times. Shint swords though.
Little Brother wondered why he wasn't allowed to buy a BB gun from the souviners of the latter sight. There's so much irony and general (un)funniness in that statement I won't bother.
After seeing said castle, we stopped off in a rural Frenc vllage, where Little Brother sulked because he wanted to go back to the caravan, sulked because the waiter had never heard of Dr Pepper, sulked because he couldn't have pizza (despite having had it the day before) and topped it off with a bit of sulking because he didn't want to go back to the caravan. Not wanting to deny him his immature rights, I merely failed to enjoy a bottle of cider. Too sweet, not tart enough.
Tomorrow, we're off to the commerical pardise of Disneyland Paris. Expect three hours of queuing per ride, hoardes of screaming puking kids, and substancially less hot chicks than there were in Disneyland LA.
There's alarmingly few hot chicks at this campsite, and the few that are here are either MILFs (not a colloquial term), or taken. I suppose it stands to reason - this is a family holiday campsite, and hot chicks usually don't do that sort of thing. But still, one does need some poolside eye-candy....
Day Four - Saturday 7th
10:15am
Two out of three isn't bad Yesterday, there were hoardes of mewling bags of shit - or crying children, as they are sometimes called - and there were much fewer hot chicks then there were in Disneyland LA. By all means, there were plenty. but LA was, in fact, a wet dream.
Naturally, I went on all the actual decent rides, while the family contented themselves with the twee childrens rides. Space Mountain, boys and girls, is something you have to do if you enjoy the sensation of your dinner moving in directions other than "up" or "down".
As for souviners, all I bought (apart from hiediously overpriced refreshment) was a pirate T-shirt. Hey, we all like pirates, right?
Now we're off down south. For six hours. Great...
6:53pm
We've been going for a bit under five hours. Sometime after 11, I recall. Its not been nightmarish, but I've bled my CD collection dry in the meanwhile, and powered my way through an entire 530-page book. Well, so much for His Dark Materials then, I've polished off all three books already.
I've seen yet more of rural France, and I'd like to say its interesting - but it isn't. Its quite decrepit. If it wasn't for the actual people and cars going around, one could quite easily imagine it to be a post-Armageddon wasteland. Oh hyeah, and the crops too, couldn't have them.
I've got no idea how much further it is to our next campsite, but I'm praying it's not far. I've only got two hours of battery on this laptop, I'm hungry, and my arse feels so numb, its probably falling off. Plus, I think the air conditioning is starting to give up.
7:05pm
Oh, its only 3.5km away...
8:05pm
We're here at bloody last. OK, we've actually been here for a relative while, but I've only just got out the laptop to make comment.
Its quite isolated out here. There isn't even an on-site shop, which makes buying bread a bit of a nightmare, the games room amounts to be "a pool table and a pinball machine",and the pool (which I have just frequented) is a barren and cold experience. However, there is a benefit to this site.
Its a royal totty-fest.
I mentioned the other day how all the hot-chicks weren't staying where we were. I reckon that this is because they all come here. Only about two women I remember seeing weren't damn fine examples of womanhood. One was actually round, and the other was an infant. If I get lucky this holiday, it'll be here.
However, there's a problem. There'll be a picture that Big Brother has just taken, with me topless. Yes, the mullet was flowing locks (although now they're going hard...), but the body is pasty, hairy in the wrong places, and pale as hell. I've had praise for my pale form (crossref: the ladies of the Chefelf forums), but for women I've actually met, its probably quite revolting. I wonder how TinyOne can have liked it, although I think that the person drew her in, and the body drove her away (I reckon I'll get flamed in a week and a half over MSN for writing that...)
So, my priorities:-Find a tan, and rapidly.-If at all possible, buy a new pair of swimming shorts (a pair not demeaningly short)-Score with a hot chica, or maybe two if I can be arrogent enough.-Actually write the two stories I said I'd write (ie, a My Fool is a Crock story, and a story based on Alice in Wonderland{link?})-Relax, I suppose.-Write some updates.
Day Five - Sunday 8th
11:13am
Oh great, we're only a quarter of the way in, and the laptop screen's playing silly buggers with me. That's just plain dandy.
Quiet day thus far. It seems that the sofa is now officially my bed - I can't actually get any sleep on the normal beds, they're nearly as uncomfortable as the barge boats. Why am I doomed to spend every trip I make this holiday sleeping on iron-hard beds?
6:32pm
Got cut off earlier by the screen freezing on me. Everything else was fine, just that the screen wouldn't move. Ah well, there wasn't that much more to say, really.
First beach trip of the holiday. I left the caravan pale, and I came back pale, red in parts, and covered in sand. Hurrah for the sun and its magic tan-giving properties...
However, I did find the time to recreate the likeness of Henry Skull in the sand.
