Bad to the bone

People watching, was popularised in the late 1970's in a book "Manwatching", by Desmond Morris, of "The naked ape" fame. http://www.desmond-morris.com/
Now it’s not like me to have a go at people. I can put up with a lot, but there are some things that for whatever reason, jar with me. Here is an example of a perfectly innocent youth who ticked most of my “despair” boxes.



















Well what’s wrong with him? I don’t hear you ask. I am sitting in the sunshine at an outside café which has a good view of the chateau from my seat. To show that I am not a tourist, I choose a seat with my back to the view. I can now people watch. This lanky 6ft something youth turns up and sits at the table next to mine. He too chooses to sit with his back to the castle. He IS a tourist and he seems to be travelling alone.
He has a huge rucksack and carries a pop-up tent in its green carry-case in one hand. This is fair enough so far. It is 3pm ish in the afternoon. His tee-shirt and trousers look to be in pristine condition. He sports open sandals and immaculately clean feet and has obviously not walked far. He is probably 18 to 21 years of age.
Here is the list of his “crimes” some of which you may sport yourselves, blissfully unaware of the mental torture that you may be causing to others. We will start from the top.
1) He is wearing a really stupid hat with a little turned up brim all the way round it, which offers no real shade, looks like it is meant for a girl, is immaculately clean of course. What message is he trying to convey? Hello, my name is Delphine?
2) He has blonde hair, which is fair enough (geddit?), don’t we all. However he manages to push three of my “bloody hell look at that twat buttons”.
2a) pony tail. This only works if you are a huge biker or Hulk Hogan sized, as of course, self-preservation comes first. If you are working in food preparation, and combine the ponytail with a hairnet, then good for you.
2b) This is combined with a weedy little plait, wound round with little beads or some-such. This really is an insult to men everywhere. If he is so desperate to get in touch with his feminine side he should wear a bloody dress!
2c) His chin sports a whispy, longish goatee beard. Frankly on him this just looks ridiculous. Someone with dark hair might get away with a tidy goatee, but this whispy, bum-fluff effort will have women and / or men running for the hills.
So really it is his head and headwear that is offensive.
In my role as a people watcher I have also decided that he is a phoney.
Remember when you were little and in trouble with your parents. Which of us hasn’t packed our little red, plastic suitcase with some toys, declared that we are leaving home, and marched off down the drive, ready for said repentant parents to fetch us back with an apology before we reach the gate.
Which of us has then not hung around said gate, saying “they’ll be sorry when I’m gone”, until finally getting fed up and returning home in time for tea or a television programme?
Well I decided that this was such a runaway, except that he had just made it to the pub and had a beer and then when his parents still hadn’t come to fetch him, he ordered a pernod and water. Instead of a toy, he brought out a big comic book and read his way through it.
After 2 hours, I got fed up waiting for him to start off or resume his camping trip, or to make the short trip back up the driveway of his parent's house in time for the cartoons on TV.. So we will never know the truth. Perhaps he was from the good old US of A doing Urp in three weeks? Surely not! :-) Yep, bad to the bone, that's me!, but perfectly formed and the epitome of sartorial elegance.

Coiff & Co.

Another sunny day. Hooray! Time to do something that I have been putting off for some time, a haircut.
I walked into town to the new location of the hair salon that I visited last year.
It is now in premises about 3 times the size.
Open the door, glasses steam up instantly. Young girl (probably not at lycee today due to the strikes) greets me. I make my demands for a cut and I am told that there will be a longish wait. That is not a problem I say.
There is no obvious waiting area so I hover about, looking out of the window.
This will obviously not do, and one of the 2 stylists waves her arm towards a cupboard and one of the chairs in front of a mirror. I spot a large notice on a pole which tells you what to do.
Remove your coat and put it in the cupboard
Take a smock out of the cupboard and put it on
Take a seat and wait

I follow the rules and swivel on my chair to watch what is going on. Eventually it is my turn. Other people have popped into the salon but they are not prepared to wait and will return later. Unless you make a reservation we cannot guarantee you a slot at the time that you come back, the stylist says. No one makes an appointment.
I have my hair washed. This seems to be compulsory, despite having washed my hair less than 2 hours previously. Before the washing, I am asked my family name. I spell it, and it is written onto a yellow pad. I wonder if they are the French branch of the Sweeney Todd family and that this information will allow them to contact the next of kin should an ear or anything else be sliced off inadvertently. The girl disappears behind me and there is a whispered conversation. She reappears and rips the page off the pad, folds it up and puts it in a pocket located high up on the left sleeve of my smock. Now at lease if I should get lost or collapse between the basin and the cutting chair they will know my family name.
I have my cut and as usual I am asked if it is ok. I put on my glasses and say Yes. I then ask if anyone ever says no. Now this could go horribly wrong and she still has scissors in her hand but I have always had a reckless streak.
Fortunately she is okay with this bit of banter and says that Yes it happens sometimes, but not often.
I quit while I still have a head or should it be while I am still ahead?Once I get home, I happen to see my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. I look like a pineapple with flyaway hair or a mandarin duck. An improvement, even if I do say so myself.

14 October Tuesday 2008 – Safety first

My first walk into town for a long time. There are still lots of lizards darting about the garden. Here is a photo of one that stayed still long enough to be digitised.

The weather is glorious and as my hair is a mess (my nail varnish is chipped too), I decide to do some haircut pricing research. There are many hair salons to choose from, but I want cheap. Prices seem to range from 12 to 15 euros for a man’s cut. In one salon I could have my hair rearranged for 20 euros.
I am fed up, so I go into the first hairdressers that I passed. I get my hair washed and cut. I really just wanted it cut as I had only washed it 2 hours before. Anyway I sit very quietly in my grey open-fronted smock and rubber neck guard, while the lady snips, blows then trims away. It doesn’t take as long as it used to.
There is some debate as to how much to charge me and the shop staff settle on 10 euros (£8). There is a gents hairdresser up the stairs in the same building, so they probably don’t get many men going in.
I head towards my bank, but in the main square there is a road safety week going on. The place is heaving with gendarmes of every rank. The “Road safety village” as the large cordoned off area is called, is rammed with school children of various ages. They can put on a pair of special glasses and try and walk in and out of cones. They can go on a motorbike simulator, look at the drugs equipment and information stands, look at police motorcycles, test their reflexes etc etc. The two most interesting items were a machine that simulates what it was like to have a crash at 10kpm and another machine that simulates what it would be like in a car if it rolled over and over with you in it. Both of these of course indicating the importance of always wearing your seat belt. See the videos.

No prizes for guessing which is which :-)

I was also given a few goodies which included a one use breathalyser kit. Wait at least 15 minutes after you have been drinking and don’t smoke during the time that you are testing yourself as this could skew the results.
I collect my top up insurance credit card from the bank then head to the Casino to top up my caramel tea supply and a few other items.
S and I saw various types of “Flammekeuche” as menu options at the Irish pub last month, but we did not know what it was. Was it stir fry?
I spotted a packet marked Flammekeuche in Casino, so I bought it. It is like a pizza on thin, flat pitta bread.

Talking of bread, here is a photo of the olive bread

baked over wood that I like.

So now you know!