Saturday
Nearly a week gone and this is our first
beach day. We visit the tiny crescent beach of ‘Le Restitude’ where I finish ‘The Swansong of Wilbur McCrum’. Nothing
much else to report other than testicle shrinkage and later, at lunch, wallet
shrinkage at the sole beach restaurant ‘Pain du Sucre’ where we are charged 32
Euro for a bottle of Clos Landry rose that we paid 8 Euro for yesterday at the
vineyard. Di has Tempura of Gambas, battered king prawns. I choose squid with a
tagliatelli, black from squid ink. I must remember never to order squid again.
Vastly overrated and, in this case overpriced… nice view though.
Back home onto the roof terrace to watch
a neighbour’s adolescent son and his squeaky voiced mates armed with a rifle,
trying to shoot the beautiful house martins that come out to play with the sunset.
Glad to say that their aim is as pitiful as their facial hair. Teenagers eh?
Bless.
Supper is a soup of white beans and ham and
bread, smothered in last night’s left over aioli.
Bed, book and brandy: I start in on Paul Auster’s latest, ‘Winter Journal’. A fragmented memoir, he writes about himself, to himself in the 2nd person. He’s currently totting the scars on his face, remembering where he earnt them.
This one’s going to be good I think.
Ipod: It was 46 years ago today that Sgt Pepper taught his band to play; yup, that cultural icon is nearly 50. Unbelievably we have no Beatles music at hand to acknowledge the moment… so I play Jose Feliciano’s 60s easy listening classic, ‘Feliciano!’ which has 3 Beatles songs on it.
Songs of the day: ‘In My Life’, ‘And I Love Her’ and ‘Here, There and Everywhere’
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