Can only Dylan sing Dylan?

 

Attended Mass yesterday evening in St Trojan, Ile d'Oleron. It's a simple church with simple decor. Like all churches on the island, there are model ships either hanging from the ceiling or on display in glass cabinets.

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Last night's dinner:

Unlike our camp site last week which had a very high proportion of British tourists, Ile d'Oleron is almost 100% French - and we like that. And so, last night's excellent restaurant was packed with French, mostly middle class and middle aged diners - women smartly dressed, men in t-shirts.

Foie gras

Rable de lapereaux

Panacotta

The house wine was a particularly beautiful colour.

Decided on the Rable de lapereaux despite not knowing what it was. Suspected it was something to do with "lapin" ie rabbit. Afterwards, looked it up on Google but was none the wiser. Asked the receptionist who also had to look it up on Google and, yes, it was "the back of the rabbit", she said doing a mime which involved her twisting around in her seat and pointing to her back.

Cost per head: approx £25.
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Currently listening to:

Last week's Desert Island Discs on BBC iPlayer where the classic Bob Dylan track "Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" was chosen by the guest - but sung by Joan Baez. I do not dislike Joan Baez but her version utterly killed the song. A bit like the Bachelors singing a Sex Pistols' track.

Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands

Clearly, the great song writers like Cole Porter, Irving Berlin etc depended upon other people rendering their songs, but, in my opinion, there are very few successful covers of Bob Dylan songs.

For the past few years in Glasgow there has been a Dylan tribute night where well-known Scottish singers have each sung their favourite Dylan song. But on the whole the renditions have come over as being "worthy" rather than inspired.

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Currently Reading:

Asked one of the receptionists whose English is particularly good (and who had lived for 2 years in Notting Hill) whether I was correct in thinking that Sartre's La Nausee was a set text in French high schools. She said only if you were specifically studying French Literature. When I asked  her if our interpretation of the French TV news was correct and that philosophy was being dropped from the Baccalaureate, she looked blank and said that she never watched the news. "But I do read a lot!", she quickly added.

Out of utter boredom, my wife had picked up one of my Sartre commentaries when I was at Mass last night. "It was like a manual.", was her verdict.

 

 

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This morning's breakfast:

 

The breakfast in this hotel is self-service but three females in white overalls stand behind the cereal counter holding clip-boards and saying, "Bonjour" to everyone and chatting to each other. They seem to have no other duties.

 

One gathers together one's items on a little blue plastic tray.

 

 

 

Schubert's Moments Musicaux No 2

Struck lucky with this stop-gap hotel for 2 nights on Ile d'Oleron. Only 2 stars but has superb restaurant and rooms are cheap with view over the ocean towards the viaduct which connects the island to the mainland. Immediately beneath our window is the local village football ground complete with massive floodlights and mini-grandstand. Beyond that lie the oyster beds.

Also, it has a fantastic wi-fi connection.

Room with a view.

Drove up the island to La Cotiniere for morning coffee ritual.

The harbour at La Cotiniere through the window.

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Currently listening to:

Radu Lupu playing Schubert's 2nd Moments Musicaux.

I've heard this short piano masterpiece dozens of times by almost a dozen different pianists and my enjoyment never diminishes.

Into less than 10 minutes, Schubert packs the equivalent of a symphony/opera/concerto. It would definitely be one of my picks for Desert Island Discs.

Radu Lupu in 1972

More recently

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Last night's dinner:

Kir cassis and liitle mini-starters

Believe it or not -  foie gras creme brulee

Skate and veg in a pot

 

Panacotta

 

Cost per head: approx £25

 

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Currently reading:

 

It's a bit frenetic, but the Loog Oldham memoir is proving just about acceptable. The text book on La Nausee veers between the ludicrous (for reasons I cannot, at present, detail) and the thought-provoking.

 

 

 

 

 

Two Receptionists

Last day in this camp site so indulged myself in one of my favourite holiday activities: going to the launderette.

In a camp site, the routine, usually, is that one dumps the clothes in the usually very big washing machine, works out the coinage and soap powder procedures and then returns in approx 45 minutes. On return, one transfers the heap of washed clothes to a really big tumble drier (hoping that the clothes won't get singed or shrunk by choosing the max heat setting - but experience has taught me that lower settings leave the clothes slightly damp, even after 45 minutes.)

And, that's the routine at this camp site.

A few issues needed to be resolved though.

1) The packet holding the two soap tablets (already purchased from the camp supermarket - liquids are not allowed for some reason) has a little diagram on it showing both tablets going into the machine. But I learned years ago about the dangers of putting too much soap into a washing machine therefore I go to the reception to ascertain whether it's 1 or 2 tablets.

Now, there are two receptionists at this camp site: one is friendly, helpful, goes the extra mile, chats away and smiles; the other also smiles but it is an icy smile. Unfortunately, it is the icy one who is on duty.

The icy one always raises her eyes to the ceiling when I approach her with a query and as I appoach her this time holding before me the so far unopened packet of soap tablets, her eyes are raised once more.

"Yes?"

"Do you put one or two tablets in the .........."

"One."

2) Back to the machine room. But where do you put the damn tablets. There is a dispenser but the tablet does not sit comfortably in any of its compartments. Perhaps you chuck it in with the clothes. This will have to be established.

Back to reception and more eye raising.

"Sorry, me again, do you put the tablets in the dispenser or in ..........................."

"With the clothes."

3) Next instruction on the wall is: Insert token in machine. Token????? I thought it was coins.
Where do you get a damn token from: "Tokens available from Reception." Damn.

This time a rather sickly smile replaces the eye raising.

"Sorry. I'll need to get some tokens."

And so on.

However, the machines worked a treat.

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Currently listening to:

Robert Hood: Minimal Nation

 

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Last night's dinner:

A superb Galette Complete ie buckwheat pancake with fried egg, ham and mushrooms, at the camp site restaurant.

Cost per head including beers: £12.50.

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About to start reading:

Born in 1944 and still alive, Andrew Loog Oldham, erstwhile manager of the Rolling Stones (so what!) has written, with the help of others, 3 autobiographies. This is No 2: I have a gut feeling that this is going to be utter tosh.

Royan to Saintes by SNCF

Yesterday, we went by train from Royan to Saintes.

The big fat controller at Royan

Saintes is a great wee town. At one street corner near the cathedral there is a garage door open and the space filled with junk - God knows how you would reach the stuff at the back. The proprietor is not present and, on a whim, I look into some shoe boxes that are readily accessible at the front of the mess. Inside, are some little HO scale plastic French cars - perfect for my layout. But where is the proprietor? "Away for lunch, I expect." says the proprietor of the creperie up the street.

"Damn. Our train is due to leave in 90 minutes."

I sit on an antique chair outside the closed junk shop across the road from the junk garage - same owner - and wait, and wait, and wait.

In the end I phone the chap - his number being on the shop front door. He has quite good English and says that he'll be over in 10 minutes.

But, 10 minutes elapses and we've got to get our train.

So, I hand in the box of cars to the Creperie having written "10 euros" inside it. I explain that I'll phone the junk shop proprietor this evening and that if 10 euros is OK , I'll come back to Saintes tomorrow and buy them.

All of this discussion takes place in pidgin English and pidgin French, but the Creperie chap is more than willing to cooperate.

The Treasure

So, yesterday evening, I phone the chap who gives me short shrift over my offer of 10 euros. He suggests 20 euros. I suggest 15, he repeats 20, I say thank-you and goodbye.

Spent next 5 minutes feeling awful. What am I playing at quibbling over 10 euros for 11 model cars? And, for sentimental reasons, it would be great to have these cars populating my layout, knowing the story behind their provenance.

I phone him back:

Feeble bargainer: "Monsieur! 20 euros."
Monsieur: "Okayyyyyy!!!!! That is good!"
FB: "Tomorrow morning, I come."
M: "Make it after 10.30."
FB: (Thinking: "This guy's accent is turning increasingly cockney.") "Onze heures?"
M: "Parfait! Wotcha' squire!"

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So, back to Saintes this morning to do the deal.

He was totally bald on top with long hair hanging down, curtain like around sides and back a la Terry Nutkins. He wore a long storeman's coat and as I approached his place I could already see him in negotiations with a woman over some lengths of material - for upholstering, I think.

Terry Nutkins - late TV presenter

I only had to utter the words: "Excusez-moi, Monsieur, etes-vous le proprietor?" (Slight tension on my part in case 'proprietor' was French for 'prostitute'.) And he realised who I was.

"Ah, Monsieur, the shoe box!"

He left the woman customer and went into his shop. I think he was feeling a bit guilty about the 20 euros price tag because he offered me a load of other toy cars too, (gratis). But they were the wrong scale and baggage weight is a consideration. But I took 2 wee petrol pumps.We shook hands and that was that.

Mine, all mine!

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French style: 2 contrasting examples:

Spotted in Saintes

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Currently listening to:

Bugge Wesseltoft: Out Here in There

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Last night's dinner:

Chicken and miscellaneous vegetables

Cost per head: £7.50

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Finished Reading:

I'm sad to have finished this exceptional book.

Does La Nausee actually exist?

Called in at Royan SNCF Station, with a view to making a train trip at some point this week. Asked the girl behind the desk for a map of the network. She looked puzzled, conferred with colleagues and, to give her credit, she got up from her seat (she must have been at least 6 feet tall), and rummaged through the shelves of a tall wooden cupboard behind her; to no avail.

However, there was a large map on display in the station concourse so I photographed that. Might go to Saintes or Cognac - they're only about half an hour away.

All trains look the same these days - Bombardier, no doubt.

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Currently listening to:

This remarkable album brings back so many memories to me, especially of when I lived in a bed-sit in Hillhead Street, Glasgow in the early 1970s.

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Last night's dinner:

Camp site restaurants are always excellent in our experience.

That's the estuary of the Gironde through the window.

My favourite restaurant aperatif - Kir cassis

Foie gras made by the restaurant owner - too much toast though

Bolognaise with tagliatelle

Crepe with strawberry jam

Cost per head, including drinks: £32.00

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La Nausee:

Came across this novel, forgive the pun, notion about novels; at least, it's new to me.

I'll paraphrase from p 7 of:

Edited by Rolls and Rechniewski

"if we burn our copy, it cannot be said that Nausea no longer exists."

Clearly, that's true. But say if we were to hunt down, Nazi bonfire style, every copy of La Nausee that has ever been printed, every computer file and USB stick that might hold an electronic copy of it and every other format that might be said to contain a copy of it eg an audio tape.

Would the novel, La Nausee, exist?

Presumably it existed in the author's mind. Presumably, it existed in the readers' minds.

Considering the former:  the author is now dead. But even when alive, he wouldn't have held every sentence in his head. He wouldn't know it off by heart. Indeed, if he had ever had to re-write it because, say, his original draft had been accidentally destroyed or lost, it's highly unlikely that he would have churned out the same series of words.

Considering the latter: each reader would  have had a different take on the book. For example, some people skim and scan the books they're reading, whereas I read every single word. But even for me, the memory of the book would only be a distillation of that string of words. (Probably, what is left in my memory of La Nausee is no different from that of a skimmer/scanner.)

So, in the case of the total obliteration of all copies of La Nausee, in what sense can we say that it ever existed?

Rolls and Rechniewski go on to say: "As a series of words, it is untouchable." p7

Do they mean in the Platonic sense in which the form of a circle is said to be untouchable even if no actual eaxample of a circle can be found in the real world?

I doubt they mean that the "series of words" which constitute a particular novel, albeit that the series is unique to that novel, has the same status as a Platonic form such as a circle.

Clearly, I'll have to think more about this.

La Nausee resumed

Spotted nearby.

After 4 days of glorious weather (I think that's the adjective that goes with sunshine) it rained heavily for most of yesterday. So, like everyone else, we set off in the car for our annual "find the 'Le Clerc'". Le Clerc is a chain of gigantic supermarket complexes. This one at Royan was no exception even having an underground car park that would have graced an airport. Actually, the complex  was about the size of an airport terminal.

The main purchase was a decent kettle. Drinking tea is a major activity in my life.

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Currently listening to:

 

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Last night's dinner:

Lamb, beans and Marco Polo tagliatelle

Wasn't sure what Marco Polo tagliatelle was, so looked it up afterwards on the internet. Still didn't find out, but it seemed to have some kind of sea food in it. Nevertheless, it still went OK with the lamb.

Cost per head including very, very cheap wine from I'lse d Re: £4.50


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Currently reading:

This book looks at Sartre's 'La Nausee' not only as a work of philosophy dressed up as a novel (which is the way I've always treated it) but as a work of literature - a novel, if you like.

Although I do read a fair amount, I know  more about nuclear physics than I do about literary criticism; I think I've been missing out on something. This is going to be the year of my finding out about literary criticism.

Ironically, for decades, La Nausee has been a set text for all High School children in France - at least those going on to do the Baccalaureate. But, every news bulletin here  includes a piece (our French isn't up to translating  exactly what's being said) that seems to suggest that that's all about to change and that from next year French school children are going to learn about more economically relevant subjects instead.

The Joys of French Camp Sites

French camp sites, in our experience, are:

Clean;
Well staffed and courteously staffed;
Safe (as anywhere these days);
Near the sea (if you want);
With good restaurants and supermarkets on site;
and
Pleasing to the eye.

But with dodgy wi-fi connections.
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Currently listening to:

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Last night's dinner:

Ham, potatoes and broad beans



Cost per head including wine: £6.50

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Continuing to read:

Came across a well-expressed sentence in Rupert Everett's memoirs today.

"Depression and madness are incomprehensible to the uninflicted." p216

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Today's lunch:

Terrine en croute and salad