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Duke attempts the Impossible
duke3016:
Now I have had a couple of notable encounters with the fine gentlemen of the French Police Force whilst driving around. In one instance I was driving towards Gap, the town not the store, when I was waved to the side by two very large and very armed policemen, positioned in the middle of the road.
I pulled into a little lay by and one of them approached my side of the car.
“Registration” he growled in French
Now the car was a company car and I had received a travel pack from the car department before leaving. It was in the car and I fumbled in it and FFS no V5. I handed him the letter from the company that basically said that this was a company vehicle and I had permission to drive it. I also handed him my licence and a copy of the insurance document.
“Registration” he repeated after glancing at the documents I had handed him.
At this point he rested his hand on the butt of his revolver, now his hand might have been tired from waving in cars but it put the wind up me. I had visions of the car being impounded and me ending up in jail.
I tried to explain in halting French that it was a company car and I had neglected to get a copy of the V5. He did not understand a fecking word I was saying and he looked like his patience was coming to an end.
He stepped back from the door and said something, and it was obvious that he meant for me to get out of the car. I opened the door and stepped out. At this stage he entered into a conversation with his older colleague, waving the documents I gave him. I was quivering like a leaf in a gale force wind at this time.
The older of the two approached me and in halting English said.
“So, this is not your car”
FFS now I will get arrested for grand theft auto amongst other things.
“It is but it isn't, it belongs to my company” I mumbled and squeaked
He turned to his mate and said something and was handed the meagre documents that I had. He glanced at them and turned to me. His mate took station a little to his left with his hand still on the butt of his gun, looking for all the world like he wanted me to twitch out of turn so he could have an excuse to shoot me.
The older policeman handed me back my documents and saluted smartly.
“Merci Monsieur, Bon Journee”
I got back into my car without crapping myself and went to drive off, it was a good job the car was an automatic as my left leg had a mind of its own shaking as it was. I managed to pull out of the lay by and continue to Gap.
I made sure that I had the V5 on subsequent holidays..
duke3016:
Now I have bored the pants off anyone foolish enough to listen, about how proud I am of Ger. He has always been known as the “Wee Man”, although he is tipping the height chart at over 6 foot now. Even at the aquarium last night other poker players now use the term and he takes it in his stride.
When he was 5 or 6 we were staying in a holiday complex in France that had a large communal pool equipped with a wave machine. He was bobbing along up to his shoulders in the pool, manfully trying to emulate the much better swimming prowess of his sisters, when the wave machine started up.
I was keeping an eagle eye on him as the waves got bigger and threatened to swamp him. He didn't shout, he didn't scream, he just calmly beckoned to me with his hand as he was slipping under with every wave. I reached him in double quick time and hoisted him up out of the water and made for shallow waters. I plonked him down and enquired as to his health.
“Fine, let's do that again” was his response.
He is no bother at all, he doesn't run with the wrong crowd and he knows the values of respect. It is a great source of pride for me that he can now travel with me to APAT events and other activities.
If he gets off his lazy arse and reads this he will know that there are more cringing stories to come about his formative years. Watch this space.
He is great company and I love him to bits priceless
Fatcatstu:
He cant pick bloody bets on NBA though, can he!?!?! Bloody Cleveland.
duke3016:
Now Ger's mother had a streak of stubbornness that never allowed her to be wrong. When we travelled to France by car we would normally stop part way down and stay in different places overnight each trip. One trip saw us staying in Beaune, a delightful town obsessed with wine. My kind of town !
We settled down for dinner on the veranda of the hotel on a beautiful warm evening. We had a lovely meal, and were choosing the desert when Gabrielle decided to have a selection of cheeses. The waitress arrived with the cheese board and Gabrielle pointed to some Camembert and then a piece of Brie and then the fateful choice.
She pointed to a particular cheese on the board and the waitress seemed to shrink inside herself as she looked aghast and said in an incredulous voice.
“Le Bleu, is madam sure”
Well Gabrielle didn't know the cheese but was not about to be upstaged by a waitress.
“Of course” she snapped.
The waitress shrugged her shoulders and cut off a piece of “Le Bleu” and placed it on the plate and retreated as if she had placed Uranium 245 on the table. She went into the kitchen and a short time later it was like a cartoon as three heads slowly appeared round the jam of the door.
The dining area was in a kind of cathedral hush, which Gabrielle failed to notice as she forked a piece of camembert into her mouth. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as she cut off a piece of “Le Bleu” and it was making its way to her mouth.
It was nearing the destination and all eyes were on Gabrielle, when the aroma of the cheese must have hit her nostrils.
“Yeuuuuuuuk” she cried as she dropped her fork and made a face like she had swallowed two hundred wasps.
Well I couldn't keep a straight face and the three stooges in the doorway disappeared into the kitchen, while the rest of the diners seemed to have found renewed interest in their dinners.
Myself and the wee man spent the rest of the holiday saying “Le Bleu” in hushed dramatic tones at every opportunity.
Priceless
duke3016:
When we were staying in Port Grimaud we hired a little motor boat to explore the bay. It was only a little thing but had a steady turn of speed and we headed off towards St Tropez. It was funny with our little Phut Phut weaving amongst the super Yachts. We parked up and had a cool drink rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. (IMO pretentious pratts)
We went further along the coast where the rich villa's are and there was a boat full of paparazzi at the base of one of them. We heard afterwards that it was George Michael's and Robbie Williams and Ginger Spice were supposed to be there, hence the photo frenzy.
The devil in me made me do it honest. I opened the throttle to its fullest and passed close to the paparazzi boat causing it to rock violently. I did laugh and got a ticking off from herself heh ho
We were making our way back to base when Gabrielle wanted to steer the boat. Ger and Marie were on the prow legs dangling and taking the rays when a big pillock in a huge boat came out of Port Grimaud harbour. He was leaving rather large waves in his wake.
I was relaxing in the stern and I calmly said.
“Point the boat into those waves”
“What?” says she
“Don't let the waves hit us broadside” says I a little more forcibly
“What?” says she
“Steer into the waves” roared I
“What?” says she
Too late we were clattered side on and Ger and Marie hung on for their lives and got drenched. I ended up flat on my face and Gabrielle fell back on top of me. We didn't capsize and I managed to get the boat back in one piece.
Women drivers priceless
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