Dunkirk

[Guest]

To give it the English spelling.

Having read some nice notices about our allies, I would like to call sailors'attention to the possibility of a superb little cruise at this time of year to Dunkirk, which has one of the best carnivals in France. The consumption of beer and ginievre is outrageous, but there is no bad temper.
The songs (many of which are special to Dunkirk) are very rude.
At one point the mayor gets on city hall balcony and throws lobsters, cod, herrings and other fish into the crowd. It is not an orderly party, but massive good fun.

William Cooper

 

[Lynette]

We went over this time last year. But for the last four weeks, its blown 35 knots almost every day in the Dover Straight, gusting up to 60 knots at times. They're giving 41-47 knots as I speak. One very bedraggled Boulogne yacht came into Dover a week ago, they thought they'd found a weather window, big mistake. Apart from that, everyone's stayed put.

I like Dunkirk and will be visiting at Easter, but the two marinas are rather a long way from the town.

 

[tcm]

This sounds fun, and gives me an excuse to tell my Dunkirk story.

We were driving up through france, and knew that we'd have a spare long afternoon. Why not stop off somewhere for an tea or early dinner before the ferry home? The wife remarked that she'd had a lovely weekend trip to Dunkirk sometime in the early seventies, a lovely place. Righty-ho, you can show me around.

As always when you revisit years later, it doesn't seem familar. Perhaps approaching from the wrong side of town, perhaps being in a car instead of walking. Not the most natural navigator, my dear wife did not seem to recognise it very well at all, though I wasn't surprised. There should have been a market area, small shops, in the centre of the town, she recalled.

Not having been before, I couldn't help. Our map didn't have enough detail. She got out and asked and old lady the way. She shook her head. We asked several others. Eventually, we stopped at a cafe, has a coffee, and she asked around again.

Exasperated, she implored with the cafe owner that he simply MUST know where the central area was - markets, shops, churches? But yet again, there was a weary shrug, a watery smile. My wife couldn't believe that the old town had vanished, and it wasn't as though she'd visted before a world war either. She remebered the weekend in Deauville clearly... ah, Deauville? The whole bar overheard us, recognised her mistake, and erupted in laughter, the awful embarassing hilarity of her having gone round so many people looking for the "old part" of Dunkirk...