Where we've been: 5am start on Monday
morning, drove from (burn after) Reading to the white cliffs of Dover
in a slight travel panic as always befits the start of any Cross family
excursion. Calais to Dunkirk mercifully brief aided by a bounty, sub par
pain-au-chocolat and sausage roll which while marked up 200% still
managed to be reasonably tasty- amazing what a bit of salted fat and
gristle ground up and rolled in pastry can achieve.
Drove from Dunkirk to Thiepval memorial, the largest of the Great War memorials (Great is fine when referring to the scale of the conflict, otherwise it seems awfully self congratulatory by the winning generals "hey, great war guys, give yourselves a pat on the back and lets get cracking with these roaring twenties everyone seems so excited about" )
We're becoming quite accustomed to these monuments mourning mass mechanized slaughter after our Belgium walk along the front line in June. Thiepval is astonishingly beautiful, a somber series of arches set against the blue sky and rolling countryside beyond. The Kipling quote "Known unto god" (he makes exceedingly good poetry) brings a lyrical poignancy to the Memorial to The Missing who met their untimely ends at the Somme.
We pressed on to Suzy and an incongruous wild west themed campsite which was dappled in early evening light as we erected the tent and pumped the air mattresses. Charles was most excited to find horses, two trampolines and a refreshingly brisk indoor pool inside a traditional Saloon. We whipped up a quick dinner of pasta and pesto (one burner and one pan forces you to be inventive with the culinary creations) and after a cheeky half bottle of Muscadet, an early night was had by all.
We slept badly, too much cheese (did I mention we ate a whole Camembert as a starter?) combined with a leaky airbed, temperatures starting around 30 and plunging to 5 degrees by morning, mixed in with some vivid dreams. So we decided to sack off packing up and moving on and instead lounged around in the sun all day, occasionally taking a dip in the pool. We made an excursion to a supermarket to buy more bread, cheese and processed pig products - before being turfed out at midday so the staff could have their customary 4 hour lunch break (I admire the civilized and relaxed nature of French work-life balance but cannot comprehend how anything ever gets done here, seriously). We had an impromptu picnic next to a canal which was not as idyllic as it initially seemed, the rash purchase of a couscous salad, while delicious was impossible to eat without cutlery.
That evening's meal was more of a triumph, a veritable celebration of the humble duck beginning with fois gras on thin slices of baguette fried in duck fat to start followed by cassoulet au canard (from a tin but pimped with extra garlic fried in more duck fat and added stock) and accompanied by a tomato and avocado salad to ward off the gout.
Charlie refused to eat almost all of it, we're considering disowning him although it does mean all the more for us.
That night's sleep wasn't much better than the first but the bonus of being in bed from 9pm-8am is that even if you have several restless hours you still wake up having probably bagged a sum total of around 8 hours. We packed in a panic aware that the Nicholas Feuillatte champagnery closed at lunch and was a good hour and a half's drive away. Dripping in sweat we disassembled the tent and threw all our earthly belongings into the car and hit the road again. We drove through the most spectacular countryside and arrived at the gleaming champagne factory with about 10 minutes to spare. We were told in no uncertain terms that we would not be allowed to take a tour having not booked in advance (we subsequently booked for our return in October) but were allowed to sample a couple of their offerings - a rosé and a 2006 vintage, both lovely but we settled for the vintage without realising until afterwards that it marks our ten year anniversary and so must only be drunk if we manage not to murder one another before the 21st October.
We bribed Charlie with a chocolate milkshake but drew the line at having a full Macy-D lunch, Ed's snobbery verging on the insufferable. We instead pitched our little picnic table under a flame tree on the side of a busy highway and rapidly wolfed down a baguette, more cheese and some saucisson sec enjoying the occasional break in the 60 mile an hour convey of trucks that rattled past.
Drove from Dunkirk to Thiepval memorial, the largest of the Great War memorials (Great is fine when referring to the scale of the conflict, otherwise it seems awfully self congratulatory by the winning generals "hey, great war guys, give yourselves a pat on the back and lets get cracking with these roaring twenties everyone seems so excited about" )
We're becoming quite accustomed to these monuments mourning mass mechanized slaughter after our Belgium walk along the front line in June. Thiepval is astonishingly beautiful, a somber series of arches set against the blue sky and rolling countryside beyond. The Kipling quote "Known unto god" (he makes exceedingly good poetry) brings a lyrical poignancy to the Memorial to The Missing who met their untimely ends at the Somme.
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| Memorial to the Missing |
We pressed on to Suzy and an incongruous wild west themed campsite which was dappled in early evening light as we erected the tent and pumped the air mattresses. Charles was most excited to find horses, two trampolines and a refreshingly brisk indoor pool inside a traditional Saloon. We whipped up a quick dinner of pasta and pesto (one burner and one pan forces you to be inventive with the culinary creations) and after a cheeky half bottle of Muscadet, an early night was had by all.
We slept badly, too much cheese (did I mention we ate a whole Camembert as a starter?) combined with a leaky airbed, temperatures starting around 30 and plunging to 5 degrees by morning, mixed in with some vivid dreams. So we decided to sack off packing up and moving on and instead lounged around in the sun all day, occasionally taking a dip in the pool. We made an excursion to a supermarket to buy more bread, cheese and processed pig products - before being turfed out at midday so the staff could have their customary 4 hour lunch break (I admire the civilized and relaxed nature of French work-life balance but cannot comprehend how anything ever gets done here, seriously). We had an impromptu picnic next to a canal which was not as idyllic as it initially seemed, the rash purchase of a couscous salad, while delicious was impossible to eat without cutlery.
That evening's meal was more of a triumph, a veritable celebration of the humble duck beginning with fois gras on thin slices of baguette fried in duck fat to start followed by cassoulet au canard (from a tin but pimped with extra garlic fried in more duck fat and added stock) and accompanied by a tomato and avocado salad to ward off the gout.
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| Fois Gras |
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| Grumpy Charlie demanding we scrape the fois off his bread |
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| Not duck |
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| Casoulet- it ain't a beauty but it tasted alright |
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| The tent, the table and the stove |
Charlie refused to eat almost all of it, we're considering disowning him although it does mean all the more for us.
That night's sleep wasn't much better than the first but the bonus of being in bed from 9pm-8am is that even if you have several restless hours you still wake up having probably bagged a sum total of around 8 hours. We packed in a panic aware that the Nicholas Feuillatte champagnery closed at lunch and was a good hour and a half's drive away. Dripping in sweat we disassembled the tent and threw all our earthly belongings into the car and hit the road again. We drove through the most spectacular countryside and arrived at the gleaming champagne factory with about 10 minutes to spare. We were told in no uncertain terms that we would not be allowed to take a tour having not booked in advance (we subsequently booked for our return in October) but were allowed to sample a couple of their offerings - a rosé and a 2006 vintage, both lovely but we settled for the vintage without realising until afterwards that it marks our ten year anniversary and so must only be drunk if we manage not to murder one another before the 21st October.
We bribed Charlie with a chocolate milkshake but drew the line at having a full Macy-D lunch, Ed's snobbery verging on the insufferable. We instead pitched our little picnic table under a flame tree on the side of a busy highway and rapidly wolfed down a baguette, more cheese and some saucisson sec enjoying the occasional break in the 60 mile an hour convey of trucks that rattled past.
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| You can't see Katie dodging traffic to take this shot |
Glad to see that you made the ferry in good time. Charlie's expression hasn't changed much since he left our house!
ReplyDeleteHaving booked advance tickets for the champagne tour means that you will have to get there and not be late - don't forget to put the date in your diary.
We spent half a day going round the house collecting your stuff together and neatly storing it in your room, found a couple of things you forgot, but you'll survive.
Love Dad