charles_reed
Active member
Gloomily bourgeois the food is reasonable rather than good. The reason I include it here is that every time I go an hilarious serendipity occurs.
First, wife and I, together with an ex-Colonel des Chasseurs and his wife, got thrown out after sampling all their digestifs, at 00.35. Fortunately the ladies were able to see straight and I got back on the boat dry, in one piece and without hangover.
Second, went in by myself, asked to join a French couple, husband turned out to be one of Cousteau's babes having read electronics at Toulouse. One of his comments
"..whenever we start (an expedition) I have to spend the first 36 hours in my bunk weakly vomiting into a bucket. "
"Why do it then?"
"It's all part of the job - besides I'm never sick in the mask.."
Third - a couple on the next table having great difficulty ordering form the local girl waitress (their French was only a little strange, but Bretons are constitutionally averse to Parisians and I think they'd been tagged as such). Turns out they're Swedish, so they discuss the menu in swedish with ampification by me, pass their order to me in English and I convey it to the much-relieved waitress. The rest of the story is best glossed over but included free digestifs from the management, that charming male Scandanavian game of "watch me fill my legs in 10 minutes" and me having an amorous workover and a standing invite to visit her and her two smashing blonde daughters in Stockholm.
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First, wife and I, together with an ex-Colonel des Chasseurs and his wife, got thrown out after sampling all their digestifs, at 00.35. Fortunately the ladies were able to see straight and I got back on the boat dry, in one piece and without hangover.
Second, went in by myself, asked to join a French couple, husband turned out to be one of Cousteau's babes having read electronics at Toulouse. One of his comments
"..whenever we start (an expedition) I have to spend the first 36 hours in my bunk weakly vomiting into a bucket. "
"Why do it then?"
"It's all part of the job - besides I'm never sick in the mask.."
Third - a couple on the next table having great difficulty ordering form the local girl waitress (their French was only a little strange, but Bretons are constitutionally averse to Parisians and I think they'd been tagged as such). Turns out they're Swedish, so they discuss the menu in swedish with ampification by me, pass their order to me in English and I convey it to the much-relieved waitress. The rest of the story is best glossed over but included free digestifs from the management, that charming male Scandanavian game of "watch me fill my legs in 10 minutes" and me having an amorous workover and a standing invite to visit her and her two smashing blonde daughters in Stockholm.
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