Overnighting at Charles de Gaulle, to save £1000 on the airfare, I couldn't help noticing the yanks. Well one couldn't: each of them in the hotel bar weighed twice as much and spoke twice as loud as the europeans. Sadly they had almost nothing to say and certainly weren't interested in the football.
You could see the disbelief, and possibly terror, as they were given the menus. Only three main courses? Salads differing in ingredients rather than which creamy dressing they'd be smothered in? Their protestations were met with a gallic shrug.
Me, I went for the entrecôte. Now I know that it is physically impossible for a French chef to cook a steak any more than medium. So I ordered mine well done... and it came perfectly medium-rare served on a wooden board with a garden leaf salad in French dressing, accompanied with typically good bread and superlative French fries. The French and food, eh? And this was an airport hotel. Doubleu tip: if you want medium ask for it to be burnt.
One sleep later and I hopped onto the bus back to CDG and again at the next stop there was another American embarrassing the English speaking world. "Are you the shuttle to the airport?" he yelled slowly to the driver. Well no, he'd be the driver of the shuttle, wouldn't he? And did the bus not have "aeroport shuttle" emblazoned on it? Yip, looks foreign.
In a quite unfrench manner, the driver humoured this chap's poor grasp of English. "Wait here!" said the tourist as he dumped his leather fanny pack on the floor of the bus and scuttled off after his other bag. He returned hauling a huge wheely bag after him.
As he crawled aboard, he sang out, "Mercy! Mercy!" Now I suspect he was trying to say thanks to the driver, but he sounded more like a mediaeval penitent.
Let's be frank: if this guy was going to insist this bag that he could barely wheel was his "carry-on" luggage, well no, there was going be no mercy.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Four go mad in the country.
The four were Pete on a rare foray north, Jen on a rare foray south, Paul from south of the river and yours truly. The madness: to cycle up the Tyne Valley to Horsely on the hottest day of the year so far.
With military precision we left an hour late, after some unnecessary bike fettling. It was so hot we'd stopped for bitter shandy within an hour at Newburn. Mrs Doubleu (who had a work deadline / didn't fancy it) was given the rendezvous coordinates after we'd passed Wylam, and headed to Horsley by car to meet us for lunch at the Lion & Lamb (without Jeffdog who was doing his rug impression in the kitchen because of the heat).
We hadn't counted on such an incline from Ovingham up to Horsley... but it is called the Tyne Valley for a reason, I suppose. Despite our slow sweaty progress, I was still surprised to see Mrs Doubleu already sitting in the beer garden. She is not famed for her sense of direction, and if she were to be a superhero it would almost certainly be Albatross Girl - destined to wander the planet!
We'd missed the lunch time and I expected to have to "put up" with pork scratchings and mini cheddars. Not at the Lion & Lamb though, with us being late for "lunch" we were offered superlative pub fare rather than the usual foodie-gastro nonsense.
Filled with scampi and chips and lager shandy (perhaps lighter, we felt) we set off for the return journey. Downhill to begin with, getting speeds up to 35mph, we made good progress breaking only for a 99 halfway (with monkey blood in my case).
Thoroughly shattered, we arrived back at a balmy Rosebery Crescent, cracked open some beers and fired up the barbie. Despite his relatively lazy day, Jeff was still adamant that deserved his share!
With military precision we left an hour late, after some unnecessary bike fettling. It was so hot we'd stopped for bitter shandy within an hour at Newburn. Mrs Doubleu (who had a work deadline / didn't fancy it) was given the rendezvous coordinates after we'd passed Wylam, and headed to Horsley by car to meet us for lunch at the Lion & Lamb (without Jeffdog who was doing his rug impression in the kitchen because of the heat).
We hadn't counted on such an incline from Ovingham up to Horsley... but it is called the Tyne Valley for a reason, I suppose. Despite our slow sweaty progress, I was still surprised to see Mrs Doubleu already sitting in the beer garden. She is not famed for her sense of direction, and if she were to be a superhero it would almost certainly be Albatross Girl - destined to wander the planet!
We'd missed the lunch time and I expected to have to "put up" with pork scratchings and mini cheddars. Not at the Lion & Lamb though, with us being late for "lunch" we were offered superlative pub fare rather than the usual foodie-gastro nonsense.
Filled with scampi and chips and lager shandy (perhaps lighter, we felt) we set off for the return journey. Downhill to begin with, getting speeds up to 35mph, we made good progress breaking only for a 99 halfway (with monkey blood in my case).
Thoroughly shattered, we arrived back at a balmy Rosebery Crescent, cracked open some beers and fired up the barbie. Despite his relatively lazy day, Jeff was still adamant that deserved his share!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Mmm... Calzone
I love Calzones, me. And I've decided to photograph every one I eat from now on.
They make me happy.
They make me happy.
Beard Resurgence!
They are back!
Firstly congatulations to the Argentinian football team. Not for the fine football or the skills of Messi, but for the wonder of Diego Maradona's beard. Silver and black: it somehow manages to combine the look of a handlebar moustache with a bonafide Van Dyke.
Not to be outdone, Thomas, my stepbrother, recently married sporting a fine beard. Melissa, his wife, seemed unperturbed and continued with the ceremony at Westminster Central Hall. I can't imagine Mrs Doubleu being so lenient; I can however, imagine her waiting at the top of the aisle whilst insisting that I go and have a quick shave.
Melissa and Thomas had a great day and were whisked to the reception in a white london cab. The rest of us made our way there on a much classier mode of transport, a lovingly maintained Routemaster.
Firstly congatulations to the Argentinian football team. Not for the fine football or the skills of Messi, but for the wonder of Diego Maradona's beard. Silver and black: it somehow manages to combine the look of a handlebar moustache with a bonafide Van Dyke.
Not to be outdone, Thomas, my stepbrother, recently married sporting a fine beard. Melissa, his wife, seemed unperturbed and continued with the ceremony at Westminster Central Hall. I can't imagine Mrs Doubleu being so lenient; I can however, imagine her waiting at the top of the aisle whilst insisting that I go and have a quick shave.
Melissa and Thomas had a great day and were whisked to the reception in a white london cab. The rest of us made our way there on a much classier mode of transport, a lovingly maintained Routemaster.
Finlay Oliver Pedra
After Melissa and Thomas jetted off to Bali, we scooted down to the south coast. I enjoyed a traffic free London as I picked up Mrs Doubleu from Heathrow at 6am Sunday morning. We had a "no, after you" moment as I surprised Claire in the airport and she sadly took a few seconds to recognise her husband. Next stop Brighton.
JD wasn't impressed by the pebble beach or the crowds but I'd like to think he won't forget his first ever boerwors. However, as it didn't even touch the sides on the way down, I'm not sure he even registered the taste!
After a pleasant lunch with family and friends, it was time for Fin's christening. I'm not sure how much of it he took in, but he sure enjoyed his christening cake. Fueled by pure sugar he then started to crawl for the first time.
Later that night he practised his skills on his rocking fire-engine, and had a word with Jeff about their future plans as a rodeo act. What a day!
JD wasn't impressed by the pebble beach or the crowds but I'd like to think he won't forget his first ever boerwors. However, as it didn't even touch the sides on the way down, I'm not sure he even registered the taste!
After a pleasant lunch with family and friends, it was time for Fin's christening. I'm not sure how much of it he took in, but he sure enjoyed his christening cake. Fueled by pure sugar he then started to crawl for the first time.
Later that night he practised his skills on his rocking fire-engine, and had a word with Jeff about their future plans as a rodeo act. What a day!
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