Calais to Dover…

Our overnights stay at the Ibis in Boulogne was a handy stop off for the ferry out of Calais the following morning.

This post is only so I can use up some photos and squeeze in an aptly titled song by one of my favourite artists, Conor Oberst, here with his band ‘Bright Eyes’. I have been a little obsessive with this guy over the years…”Under a microscope of apoplectic vision”….What is there not to like about a lyric like that?…a great singer songwriter, enjoy a live version of this wonderful song here…

Born Slippy…

This was the final days riding of the 2023 ‘Tour de France’ and it was going to be the longest route. The 40 mile loop would take us south, down to Caen and back up the river to Ouistreham.   One way or another, it was going to get quite hard…

In preparation, we deliberately stopped off in the harbour at the family run stall of local fisher-folk ‘Fanny and Charles’ to breakfast on some fresh oysters 🦪 (huitres) that are famous on the Normandy coast to give us energy for the days ride. 

We probably shouldn’t have ordered a kilo each but we got them slipped down, one by one and I have to say, you haven’t tasted oysters like them until you’ve tried Fanny’s…!

Starting to feel a little amorous and bilious at the same same we set off gingerly with bellies full of fresh salty water and slippy molluscs but it wasn’t long before we had to pull over for a strong coffee to settle the stomach.

By the time we had got to Caen I had eaten the same one about 7 times…each time it seemed to taste a bit better…

We stopped off in Caen for a crepe and felt a lot better for it before heading back up the river to complete the circuit.

As we arrived wearily back at Coursuelles-sur-mer there was not much left in the tank…or the pot of ‘Sudocrem’.

Try to keep it all down as you boogie on down to a great ‘Underworld’ track.

Who’s in control…?

Tuesday is market day.

Unexpectedly it covered the whole street and offered a plethora of French gastronomy from local unpasteurised cheese, stinky sausage and foie gras to Calvados, Crepes and a massive pan of authentic Spanish Paella! 

I opted for a coffee and sat down to watch the proceedings.

Question….Why have folk started to carry domestic animals around?

It seems bizarre to me that a perfectly fit border collie needs to be manhandled or a skanky ginger Tom carted round in a wicker basket strapped to your chest??… where will it stop?…will they start to fetch other pets out for a look round the market?…a tortoise in a harness perhaps, a ferret in a specially designed compartment in your handbag or maybe a gongoozling goldfish carried aloft in a bowl on a turban? 

We must persevere with the trend until it becomes a little too passé I guess….I digress as I really just don’t know ‘who’s in control?’.

To ease the pain in my brain I opt to head for the sea for a swim. The temperature of the water took my mind off the wonderings so I returned to the gite to catch up with the boys over lunch.

While they went off for the afternoon on the 🚴 🚴 I opted for an amble around the harbour and then settled down in a quiet brasserie in the square with a chilled bottle of ‘Muscadet’ and imagined I was cycling down the Loire Valley….also a bit easier on the arse after 3 days in the saddle!

Who’s in Control was a song by indie band British Sea Power…just to wake you up and get u 🤔thinking!

A Bicyclette…(Batteries not included)

Todays ride was off to have a look at the famous carpet town of Bayeaux. 

Pongo’s tours had the riding gadget set to record and as soon as Buster Gonad had got back with his unfeasibly large baguette and fresh croissants from the artisan boulanger we were ready to cock our legs over the saddle for day 3 in sunny Normandy.

We stopped off on the way at the coiffure for a morning coffee and continued off down the lovely rural backroads arriving at Bayeux for lunch.

The Impressive Cathedral, where Norman the Conk started his big -nose crusade from, was where we parked the pushrods. He was a famous fella round these parts for the Frexit rebellions of 1066 when he came over to the UK to rape, pillage and take our jobs but it turned out not to be as good as he thought after he got into an altercation with a bloke called Harold who he stabbed in the eye and then thought, “bugger this for a game of soldiers”, and returned home to open a carpet shop.

To be honest, the honour of being the first carpet in the world to be invented was a petite disappointment, it was a lot smaller than as it’s made out to be in the brochures so I’d go as far as to say that it’s more like an ‘off-cut’.

After more poignant remembrance of the fallen at Bazenville with the war graves, sadly some without names or identities, it was time to head home. 

With heads down and pedalling hard we were blowing out of our arses up the penultimate hill on the last leg when a rather large lady in her 80’s rang her 🛎️ and with a cheerful “Merci “ and a rather large smile blew us all off and shot off into the distance with the power of the 🪫 on her bicyclette…

…Oh, how we laughed!!

Just enjoy the old French track about bicycles and move on ….

‘Milord’, or ‘Shadow of the street’…

Sunday is meant to be a day of rest but we have stuff to see and do so after the warm pan au chocolat from the local ‘boulangerie’ we decided to go the other way up the coast today. 

Past Juno beach where the Canadian allies landed in terrible weather back in fateful June 1944. On past the USA landings at ‘Gold’ beach we continued riding in the sunshine heading for Arromanches-les-bains overlooking the remains of the artificial ‘Mulberry Harbour’.

It was a hot day in the saddle so it was nice to find some shade in the shadow of the street behind a bar!

So with 50km yesterday and another 30km today that equates to about 235ml of Sudocrem left in the pot…

Todays track comes at u from the hit parade of 1959 pop-pickers…Milord or Ombré de la rue is a great French classic from the very famous voice of Edith Piaf.

Laisse tomber les filles…

The morning view of the river Liane yesterday from the Ibis was a good start to the day. Then it was off over the Pont du Normandie to the lovely Honfleur for a walk round the town.

Arriving later in the afternoon at our gite in Courseulles sur mer it just left the Friday big shop and the day was complete.

Todays ride was south along the DDay beaches was actually quite poignant. Difficult to comprehend the atrocities that were encountered on the beaches with regular reminders by way of memorials of respect to the fallen from combined allied forces from all over the world. We rode along the whole coast to Ouistreham.

A leisurely lunch was a big pot of Ouistreham mussels et vin before heading down to view the famous Pegasus bridge. Here we had a short trip in a yellow submarine to have a quick look at the Titanic that was sunk by the Germans just off the coast of France. Thankfully, we survived and headed back for a well earned 🍺.

France Gall livens up a Saturday night with a jaunty little infectious ditty that I have loved since I first heard it in 1964.

Joe Le Taxi…

Operation Overboard is now in full swing, Iv packed up my troubles in an old kit bag along with a plentiful supply of Yorkshire tea bags, 3 rusty bicycles and an unfeasibly large pot of Sudocrem to apply to any war wounds or inflammation of the ‘Pomme de Terre’s’ that we may encounter along the cobbled streets of Normandyland.

Iv cunningly set my ‘Out of Office’ for some other bugger to answer for my mistakes and it’s time to leave ‘Terrazza Negroni’ (as the mooring is affectionately referred to as ) as ‘Joe Le Taxi’ Aka Pongo is ‘en-route’ on his way down from the outer reaches of Jockland, arriving around ‘le petit dejeuner’ time to pick me up.

With a bit of Vera Lynne playing on the wireless to get us in the holiday mood we set off next to liberate ‘Buster’ from the clutches of ‘Lost’A’CockHall’ and then the 3 amigo’s are united to fight again and we can finally set off together on the long and torturous journey down the M6 ‘dans le voiture’ to French France….well, until one of us needs a piss stop at the next services….

To mark the occasion, a fitting poem has been penned by Siegfried Sassoon, the late WW2 poet laureate….and it goes like this…

Gazzer, Pongo and Buster are setting sail to Calais,

To the gallic chants and cheers of…”Allez, Allez, Allez”,

But we know nowt about France,

Are too old for romance,

So we will liberate the wine,

And sit and play dominoes to pass by the time

Over the Dartford bridge then we reach the White cliffs of Dover where we find that there are no bluebirds left due to Avian Influenza but plenty of scraggy seagulls. Before the stench of seagull excretion becomes overpowering we get directed to embark an earlier ferry called the ‘Herald of Free Enterprise’ then we are off before they have even closed the back doors… ‘tout suite’…!

The goofy little 14 year old, Vanessa Paradis had this popular hit in 1987.

Probably working in a chip shop just outside Paris now…