Devon – Day VI

Posted on March 26, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

From Mercedes to EasyJet

A journey through contrasts

This morning, we bid farewell to Devon and make our way back to Bristol Airport in style—courtesy of the rental Mercedes C200. Unlike the journey down, this time it’s daylight, and I can actually see what all the buttons do. A revelation! Most importantly, I finally manage to switch on the head-up display. Small victories.

Upon arrival at the airport, the peacefulness of the past few days is instantly shattered. Bristol Airport has adopted that uniquely American tradition of shouting instructions at travelers, particularly in the security queue. I can’t say I fully grasped what was being yelled, thanks to the thick West Country accent, but I suspect a few simple pictograms would be both clearer and significantly quieter.

Once past security, we navigate the self-checkout-heavy duty-free section, where we stock up on Polos and other hard-to-find-in-France sweets. I remain undecided on the merits of self-checkouts. Efficient? Perhaps. Impersonal? Definitely.

With time to spare, we indulge in one last British classic—a pint and a plate of chicken tikka masala. The perfect farewell meal.

Our EasyJet flight departs on time, a pleasant surprise. The plane is either brand new or recently refurbished, though no amount of refurbishment can make the seats any wider. The flight is a brisk 1 hour 35 minutes, and upon landing in Toulouse, we’re greeted by a notable drop in temperature. The drive back to Carcassonne is uneventful, and now it’s straight back to reality.

The Devon trip? A resounding success. We saw a lot, walked a lot, ate a lot—exactly how a good trip should be. Now, time to unpack, repack, and get ready for the next adventure.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Devon – Day V

Posted on March 25, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

A day of mystery, mead and mighty Gin & Tonics in Devon

Some nights are best left unspoken, and this was certainly one of them. But as the morning light crept in, so did the reassuring scent of sizzling bacon—a universal cure for all manner of existential crises. Chris, as ever, was at the helm of breakfast operations, masterfully assembling a spread worthy of a full English champion: eggs, bacon, black pudding, tomatoes, and, lest we forget, toast.

With bellies full and spirits lifted, we set off in our pre-booked taxi, which—by British standards—was “more or less” on time. Our destination? Torquay, the birthplace of Agatha Christie, as any self-respecting mystery lover should know. The driver dutifully deposited us in front of Torre Abbey, where we meandered through its elegant gardens and a rather impressive greenhouse, the kind of place where one half expects to stumble upon an eccentric botanist murmuring about rare orchids.

A brief detour through the so-called Spanish Barn (tragically devoid of tapas or flamenco dancers) and we were on our way to lunch. But first, a crucial pit stop: a pint at the Grand Hôtel. The weather, miraculously mild and sunny, allowed us to sip our drinks outside, basking in the rare British sunshine as if it were an endangered species.

From there, we embarked on the scenic walk to Cockington, a charming route that follows a meadow path alongside a small stream.

And what a delight awaited us at the end! A picture-perfect village straight out of a storybook, with thatched cottages so quaint they could almost make you believe in fairies.

In the heart of it stood the Drum Inn, where we had a 2 PM lunch reservation.

Right on cue, our friends H and Lybie arrived, and the six of us settled in for an aperitif, which naturally led to food, which—shockingly—was not just good but very good. Wine flowed as if rationing had never been invented, and two hours later, we were suitably fortified for the return to Torquay.

Rather than retracing our steps from the morning , we opted for a classic British experience: a ride atop a blue-and-yellow double-decker bus. After all, what’s a trip to England without one slightly wobbly bus ride with a front-row view of hedgerows and occasional near-misses?

Back in Brixham, we parted ways—H and Lybie veering left toward home, while the four of us made the executive decision to taxi up the rather unreasonably steep hill instead of attempting it on foot. A wise choice, I might add.

Once home, I declared an official siesta emergency and set my alarm for one hour. By the time I resurfaced, it was (unsurprisingly) aperitif o’clock. Chris, ever the mixologist, prepared some mighty Gin & Tonics, because after a day of cultural enrichment and countryside meandering, one must recalibrate with a proper drink.

Tonight? We’re staying in. Even the most adventurous need a moment of respite—after all, there’s another day of Devonian delights waiting just around the corner.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Travel, Food and Drink, Travel and adventure | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Devon – Day IV

Posted on March 24, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

À day of ferries, pints and decisions (mostly about drinks)

An early start today—well, early by our standards. A taxi was booked for 9 AM to whisk us off to Kingswear, just a few miles away, where we would board the ferry across the River Dart. And by “ferry,” I mean a barge with a boat that politely nudges it along. A charmingly low-tech approach to river crossings, but hey, it works.

At 10 AM, we met our guide for a two-hour tour of the Britannia Royal Naval College (BRNC). A place steeped in history, tradition, and crisp uniforms. Walking through as part of a civilian tour group while naval personnel bustled past on serious business made us feel like imposters—but very interested imposters.

By 12:30, our brains were bursting with naval knowledge and our stomachs were demanding immediate attention. A short walk upstream led us to the Floating Bridge Pub, where a pint of Otter Bitter disappeared alarmingly fast, swiftly followed by a Jail Ale, which met the same fate. Hydration is key, after all.

Post-lunch, the sun made a grand entrance, and we wandered through town, dipping into a few shops. One painting caught our eye, but EasyJet’s strict luggage policies ensured that an impulse purchase was out of the question. The shop owner kindly offered to investigate shipping options, so the fate of the painting now rests on logistics (and whether we still love it after a night’s sleep).

Ferry-crossing number two ensued, and upon stepping off, we called a taxi to return home. A well-earned nap was not only needed—it was taken.

The evening was an exercise in efficiency:

• Step 1: G&T aperitif (while making grand plans for tomorrow).

• Step 2: Dice games (fuelled by a second G&T).

• Step 3: A homemade Chris Chowder, following a recipe from the now-legendary New York pub, The Spotted Pig.

• Step 4: Cheese, crackers, and a final bottle of wine, because restraint is overrated.

With full stomachs and slightly foggy heads, it was time to call it a night—ready to do it all over again tomorrow. Well, maybe with fewer ferries.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Devon – Day III

Posted on March 24, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

A day in the life of a well seasoned walker (and drinker)

Walk, drink, eat, repeat. A simple yet effective mantra for a day well spent.

The morning began with another first-class English breakfast—because nothing fuels a day of adventure quite like a plate stacked with bacon, eggs, and possibly a questionable number of sausages. Fully fortified, we stepped out into the glorious spring sunshine, ready to take on the coastal path.

Now, if you’ve never strolled along this particular stretch of coastline, let me assure you: the views are the kind that make you consider a career as a landscape painter. Simply breathtaking (photos pending, as my laptop is currently enjoying a well-earned break back home).

First stop: Berry Head Hotel. A perfect spot to rest, take in the bay, and, crucially, enjoy the first pint of the day. One could easily linger here indefinitely, but alas, duty (and the promise of more beverages) called.

We pressed on toward the harbour, where the Prince William pub awaited. A “small lunch” was in order, and, as fate would have it, they were serving Jail Ale—a clear sign that a couple of pints were non-negotiable.

Somewhere between pints and pondering life’s mysteries, I found myself acquiring a Sherlock Holmes-style hat. Why? The heart wants what it wants.

With no taxis in sight, we were left with no choice but to walk home—a route that seemed to consist of 90% uphill struggle and 10% questioning my life choices. Seven kilometres later (but mostly uphill, I swear), I collapsed onto the sofa, caught up on the headlines, and indulged in a well-earned mid-afternoon nap.

By 18:30, we were back on our feet, heading into town to meet our friends H & Lybie at the New Quay Inn. Two pints of London Pride later, I was sufficiently restored and ready for the next leg: dinner at Olive. Tapas, wine, and excellent company ensured we dined in style.

There was zero chance of walking back up that monstrous hill, so a taxi was summoned. Unlike earlier in the day, this one actually existed and whisked us home in blissful comfort.

To round off a day of exemplary decision-making, a small nightcap was in order—because if you’re going to repeat the cycle tomorrow, you may as well end today in style.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Devon – Day II

Posted on March 23, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

A day of indulgence and adventure in Dartmoor

Some days are just built differently. They start with a feast, flirt with danger, indulge in a little history, and end with just the right amount of ale and whisky. This was one of those days.

Fueling Up: The Quintessential English Breakfast

Every great adventure demands a solid foundation, and what better than a home-cooked English breakfast? Eggs, bacon, grilled tomatoes, and toast made from homemade bread—so good it could make a grown man weep. With our bellies full and our spirits high, we were ready for action.

A Flashy Ride Through Twisty Lanes

We swapped cars and jumped into Chris’s red Mercedes B-Class—a shade more flamboyant than your typical German engineering, but then again, this wasn’t just any Mercedes. This was an AMG sport version, a machine built for both performance and panache. Perfect for a 30-mile jaunt through Dartmoor’s winding lanes, where sheep have the right of way and sat-navs have trust issues.

Dartmoor Prison: Gloomy, Grizzly, and Gripping

Our destination? The infamous Dartmoor Prison Museum. The prison itself has now shut its doors, but back in the day, it made the news regularly—especially in the 70s and 80s when I was living in England. What I didn’t know, however, was that this fortress of misery originally housed French prisoners from the Napoleonic Wars and later American captives from the War of Independence. The artefacts were suitably grim, and after a while, we decided that history should be digested with a side of lunch.

A Pint of Nostalgia at Two Bridges Hotel

Where better to lift the mood than the Two Bridges Hotel, a charming 18th-century coaching inn? Here, I reunited with an old friend—Dartmoor Jail Ale. My first real ale pint in years, and let me tell you, absence had only made the heart (and taste buds) grow fonder.

Wistman’s Wood: A Walk into the Mist

Suitably refreshed, we set off on foot across the moors toward Wistman’s Wood. Half an hour later, we arrived at this eerie little woodland, an ancient tangle of twisted oak trees shrouded in legend and, on this particular day, rolling fog. It felt like we had wandered into Tolkien’s imagination—minus the orcs, thankfully.

Back to Brixham: Ale, Rugby, and Thai Delights

Back at the car, we retraced our steps to Brixham, where I indulged in the sacred post-adventure tradition: the nap. Rested and ready, we made our way to the Rugby Club House for a pint, only to find it absolutely packed. Plan B? A short walk to the nearest pub, where I treated myself to two well-earned pints of Tribute real ale.

Walking back up the hill after those was a challenge, but the reward was worth it—Chris had whipped up a Thai-style dinner that was nothing short of spectacular. We cracked open a couple of bottles of red wine, played a dice game (the rules of which remain delightfully hazy), and finished the evening in the only appropriate way: with a whisky nightcap.

After all, with the miles walked, the ales consumed, and the adventures had, sleep was a foregone conclusion.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Devon – Day I

Posted on March 22, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

From turbulence to tranquility

A journey in three acts

Act 1: The EasyJet Waltz

Flying EasyJet is a bit like speed dating—efficient, no unnecessary pleasantries, and over before you’ve really settled in. The Toulouse-to-Bristol leg was textbook: no frills, no nonsense, and, at one point, no clear grasp of whether we were going up or down. The pilot, clearly a man of science, decided the best way to tackle turbulence was to introduce us to the joys of altitude yo-yoing—bobbing between 34,000 and 31,000 feet in a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to outmaneuver lateral winds. It’s hard to say which was more unsettling: the sudden drops or the knowledge that this was, in fact, the best available option.

Act 2: Hertz So Good

After landing with all the grace of a paper plane in a gusty park, Bristol greeted us with an unexpected delight—a car upgrade at the Hertz Gold counter. Gone was the economy-class shoebox on wheels we had mentally prepared for. Instead, we were handed the keys to a Mercedes 200C, a vehicle that exudes “quiet luxury” in the same way a spa whispers “you’re doing well in life.” The only hitch? Said luxury was encased in a cockpit of buttons, screens, and settings that, for all I knew, could have launched us into orbit. Two hours of southbound night driving became an exercise in figuring out which control did what—while also ensuring the car remained on the road.

Act 3: G&Ts and Grand Delusions

Arriving in Brixham, we were greeted by Chris and Julia, who know exactly how to welcome weary travelers: with cheese and Gin & Tonics. The first G&T was refreshing, the second delightful, the third borderline necessary, and by the fourth, we were philosophers. At some point, the girls wisely called it a night, leaving us with a genius idea: a whisky nightcap. Possibly two. In retrospect, this may have been the reason I slept like a well-fed cat in a sunbeam.

Conclusion? The trip had its bumps (literal and figurative), but all’s well that ends in a haze of gin, cheese, and German-engineered comfort.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

De l’eau partout / Water everywhere

Posted on March 21, 2025 by JJS

🇫🇷

mais surtout dans les polémiques

Ah, la grande aventure du climat ! D’un côté, on nous annonce des sécheresses à n’en plus finir, lacs à sec, rivières fantômes, des champs de blé transformés en terrain de pétanque. De l’autre, on nous montre la montée inexorable des eaux, des villes côtières qui vont finir par ressembler à Venise (sans le charme des gondoles), et des icebergs qui jouent à cache-cache avec les cargos.

Donc, si je résume bien : on manque d’eau douce, mais on a trop d’eau salée. Fascinant. Moi qui ai vaguement écouté mes cours de physique, j’ai une idée farfelue : et si on stockait l’eau douce avant qu’elle ne se jette dans la mer, histoire d’en garder sous le coude pour les périodes de sécheresse ? Complètement absurde, non ?

Eh bien, visiblement, oui. Parce que dès qu’on propose de garder de l’eau, on déclenche des cris d’orfraie. C’est un peu comme si vous essayiez d’économiser de l’argent, et qu’on vous criait dessus parce que votre tirelire est en plastique et pourrait heurter la sensibilité des cochons. Prenons l’exemple des fameuses bassines, ces réserves d’eau qui font hurler les écologistes. Pour eux, c’est simple : il ne faut surtout pas en construire, pas toucher aux rivières, et surtout ne jamais chercher à gérer l’eau différemment. Résultat ? Pendant l’été, on fera des incantations pour que le ciel nous tombe sur la tête.

Et ce n’est pas politique, hein ! Mais franchement, ces défenseurs de la nature sont fascinants : ils s’opposent à tout avec une constance admirable. Proposer des solutions ? Trop fatiguant. Expliquer comment concilier écologie et besoins humains ? Beaucoup trop compliqué. Bloquer, interdire, refuser le débat ? Ah ça, ils sont champions.

Cela me rappelle vaguement nos chers amis de la France Insoumise, dont la stratégie est d’être insoumis à tout, y compris au bon sens. Leur spécialité ? Hurler dès qu’on essaie de parler d’un sujet sérieux. Ils sont la version politique de l’enfant de 3 ans qui crie « NON ! » à tout ce qu’on lui propose.

Pendant ce temps, l’eau douce continue de se perdre dans les océans et les sécheresses s’intensifient. Mais chut, surtout ne cherchons pas de solutions, ce serait trop logique.

Pour ma part j’ai mis quelques bouteilles d’eau au frais pour mon Pastis

Water everywhere… except in common sense!

Ah, the great climate conundrum! On one side, we’re told that droughts are becoming the new norm—dried-up lakes, ghost rivers, and wheat fields that look more like pétanque courts. On the other, we’re warned about rising sea levels, coastal cities slowly turning into Venice (minus the charming gondolas), and glaciers playing hide-and-seek with cargo ships.

So, let me get this straight: we don’t have enough fresh water, but we have too much salt water. Fascinating. Now, with my very basic grasp of physics, I have this wild idea—what if we stored some of the freshwater before it rushes into the sea, so we could actually use it during dry spells? Crazy, right?

Apparently, yes. Because the moment you suggest keeping water, a chorus of outrage erupts. It’s a bit like trying to save money and getting yelled at because your piggy bank is made of plastic and might offend real pigs. Take the example of the infamous mega-basins—reservoirs designed to store water, which environmentalists seem to despise with every fiber of their being. According to them, the solution is simple: don’t build them, don’t touch the rivers, and whatever you do, don’t even think about managing water differently. So when summer comes, we’ll just resort to rain dances and prayers.

And let’s be clear—this isn’t about politics, of course! But honestly, these so-called defenders of nature are fascinating: their ability to oppose everything is nothing short of impressive. Coming up with solutions? Too exhausting. Explaining how to balance ecology with human needs? Far too complicated. Blocking, banning, and shutting down debate? Now that they excel at!

This reminds me a lot of our dear friends from La France Insoumise (Unsubmissive France), whose entire strategy revolves around being unsubmissive to everything, including common sense. Their specialty? Screaming the moment someone tries to have a serious conversation. They are the political equivalent of a three-year-old child shouting “NO!” to anything you propose.

Meanwhile, fresh water keeps disappearing into the oceans, and droughts keep getting worse. But shhh… let’s not look for solutions—that would make far too much sense.

As far as I am concerned, I have a few water bottles stocked for my Pastis


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Climate, Commentary, Ecology v common sense, Environment, Opinion, Politics, Society, Sustainable living, Uncategorized, Water management | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Amazon knows what I did last summer

Posted on March 18, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

(and the one before that)

The other day, I found myself in a modern mystery: Amazon was randomly sending me “Photo of the Day” memories from years back. Curious, because I don’t use Amazon Photos. Or so I thought.

I shrugged it off at first—maybe a glitch, maybe the wrong person’s nostalgia landing in my inbox. But the irregularity of it nagged at me. Where were these photos coming from? More importantly, how did they end up in Amazon’s hands when I had never, not even once, uploaded my pictures there?

So, like any determined detective (or mildly paranoid digital citizen), I dug deeper. Once I figured out how to access Amazon Photos—an adventure in itself—I was greeted by a staggering 3,000+ of my own photos neatly stored in their cloud. That’s right. Over three thousand snapshots of my past, all carefully preserved in Amazon’s digital vaults.

But how?

Cue the dramatic music.

After some forensic work, the culprit emerged: Facebook. Back in the days when I was active on the platform, it seems there was an unholy link between my Facebook account and Amazon Photos. A link I never knowingly activated. A link that meant Facebook was likely siphoning my photo library into Amazon’s unlimited Prime storage like a digital Hoover.

So, what did I do? I hit delete. Hard. Every last photo—gone.

Now, to be fair, Amazon does offer free unlimited photo storage for Prime members, which, if you’re looking for a cloud solution, might sound like a sweet deal. But that’s beside the point. The real question is: why was I signed up for this without my knowledge?

Am I happy about all this? Not really. Do I feel more in control now? A little.

Lesson learned: if you don’t check where your data is floating around, someone else will. And they might even send you surprise nostalgia emails just to rub it in.

🇫🇷

Amazon sait ce que j’ai fait l’été dernier

(et celui d’avant aussi)

L’autre jour, j’ai été confronté à un mystère moderne : Amazon m’envoyait, de façon totalement aléatoire, des souvenirs “Photo du jour” datant de plusieurs années. Curieux, car je n’utilise pas Amazon Photos. Ou du moins, c’est ce que je croyais.

Au début, je n’y ai pas prêté trop d’attention — peut-être un bug, peut-être un cas d’erreur d’identité nostalgique. Mais l’irrégularité du phénomène m’a intrigué. D’où venaient ces photos ? Plus important encore, comment avaient-elles atterri chez Amazon alors que je ne les avais jamais, au grand jamais, téléchargées là-bas ?

Alors, comme tout détective déterminé (ou citoyen du numérique légèrement paranoïaque), j’ai mené l’enquête. Une fois que j’ai enfin compris comment accéder à Amazon Photos — une aventure en soi —, j’ai eu un choc : plus de 3 000 de mes photos étaient stockées bien au chaud dans leur cloud.

Mais comment ?

Là, musique dramatique.

Après quelques recherches approfondies, le coupable a été identifié : Facebook. À l’époque où j’étais encore actif sur la plateforme, il semble qu’un lien invisible entre mon compte Facebook et Amazon Photos ait été établi. Un lien dont je n’avais jamais eu conscience. Résultat ? Facebook puisait tranquillement dans ma photothèque et les envoyait chez Amazon comme un aspirateur numérique bien trop zélé.

Alors, qu’ai-je fait ? J’ai tout supprimé. Sans exception.

Soyons justes : Amazon offre un stockage illimité et gratuit des photos aux abonnés Prime, ce qui peut sembler être une bonne affaire si vous cherchez une solution cloud. Mais ce n’est pas la question. La vraie question est :
Pourquoi ai-je été inscrit à ce service à mon insu ?

Suis-je heureux de cette découverte ? Pas vraiment. Ai-je maintenant l’impression d’avoir repris le contrôle ? Un peu.

Morale de l’histoire : si vous ne vérifiez pas où vos données se baladent, quelqu’un d’autre le fera pour vous. Et il pourrait même vous envoyer des emails nostalgiques, juste pour enfoncer le clou.


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Cloud Storage, Data, Digital security, Privacy, Social Media, Technology | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The day I discovered St. Patrick

Posted on March 17, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

and my photos on Amazon

☘️ Growing up in France in the ’60s and ’70s, St. Patrick’s Day was as foreign to me as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It simply didn’t exist in my world. Even during my years in England in the ’70s and ’80s, the day came and went without much fanfare. If the English were celebrating, they were doing it very, very quietly.

☘️ It wasn’t until I traveled to the U.S. that I had my first true St. Paddy’s Day shock. Suddenly, everything turned green, and—overnight—it seemed as though the entire population had discovered their long-lost Irish heritage. People who, the day before, were Smiths, Johnsons, and Garcias were now enthusiastically claiming to be O’Smiths, McJohnsons, and FitzGarcias. It was as if Ireland had taken over the country for a day, armed with shamrocks, Guinness, and an unshakable belief that “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” was a legitimate excuse for public displays of affection.

☘️ My most memorable encounter with this phenomenon happened in Chicago exactly 15 years ago. I know this with eerie precision, not because I keep a detailed journal, but because Amazon—bless their data-harvesting souls—sent me two photos earlier today to remind me. A touching gesture, really, except for the part where I have absolutely no idea how my photos ended up in Amazon’s memory bank. (That’s a mystery for another day, and possibly, a lawyer.)

I cannot remember which camera or phone I used for the photos but the quality is bad

☘️ But back to Chicago—where the river, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, is dyed an unnervingly vibrant shade of green. This tradition dates back to 1962 when, as legend has it, local plumbers used a special dye to trace pollution and accidentally discovered that the river turned a delightful shade of leprechaun green. Instead of panicking (or fixing the pollution, apparently), they decided to embrace the phenomenon and make it an annual tradition. Over the years, the city swapped out the original dye for an environmentally friendly version—because while Chicagoans love their green river, they draw the line at toxic festive waters.

☘️ Standing there, watching the river transform, I felt both impressed and mildly concerned. If Chicago could dye an entire body of water green just for fun, what else were they capable of? I half expected the pigeons to start tap-dancing in Irish step shoes.

☘️ One last piece of advice: if you ever find yourself celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in full festive mode, be wary of leprechauns—especially after a few pints of green beer. They tend to multiply in direct proportion to the number of drinks consumed, and I can assure you, they are not the best drinking companions.

Sláinte! 🍀


Designed by J2S created by Dalle-E 3

🇫🇷

Le jour ou j’ai découvert la St Patrick

… et mes photos sur Amazon

☘️ En grandissant en France dans les années 60 et 70, la Saint-Patrick m’était aussi étrangère que le beurre de cacahuète et la gelée. Elle n’existait tout simplement pas dans mon monde. Même pendant mes années en Angleterre dans les années 70 et 80, la journée passait inaperçue. Si les Anglais la fêtaient, ils le faisaient très, très discrètement.

☘️ Ce n’est que lors de mes voyages aux États-Unis que j’ai subi mon premier choc de la Saint-Patrick. Soudainement, tout virait au vert et, du jour au lendemain, il semblait que la population entière découvrait des origines irlandaises jusque-là insoupçonnées. Des gens qui, la veille encore, s’appelaient Smith, Johnson et García devenaient tout à coup O’Smith, McJohnson et FitzGarcía. C’était comme si l’Irlande prenait le contrôle du pays le temps d’une journée, armée de trèfles, de Guinness et d’une conviction inébranlable que “Embrasse-moi, je suis irlandais” était une excuse légitime pour des démonstrations d’affection en public.

☘️ Ma rencontre la plus mémorable avec ce phénomène a eu lieu à Chicago, il y a exactement 15 ans. Je le sais avec une précision inquiétante, non pas parce que je tiens un journal détaillé, mais parce qu’Amazon—que Dieu bénisse leur soif insatiable de données—m’a envoyé deux photos ce matin pour me le rappeler. Un geste touchant, vraiment, sauf pour le détail légèrement angoissant : je n’ai absolument aucune idée de comment mes photos se sont retrouvées dans leur banque de souvenirs. (Un mystère à élucider un autre jour, et peut-être avec un avocat.)

☘️ Mais revenons à Chicago—où, en l’honneur de la Saint-Patrick, la rivière est teintée d’un vert éclatant, presque surnaturel. Cette tradition remonte à 1962, lorsqu’un groupe de plombiers locaux, en utilisant un colorant pour tracer la pollution, a découvert par accident que l’eau prenait une superbe teinte verte. Plutôt que de paniquer (ou de régler le problème de pollution, apparemment), ils ont décidé d’en faire une tradition annuelle. Avec le temps, la ville a troqué le colorant initial contre une version plus respectueuse de l’environnement—car si les habitants de Chicago aiment leur rivière verte, ils préfèrent éviter une apocalypse écologique festive.

☘️ En regardant la transformation de la rivière, j’étais à la fois impressionné et légèrement inquiet. Si Chicago pouvait teindre un cours d’eau entier en vert juste pour le plaisir, de quoi d’autre étaient-ils capables ? Je m’attendais presque à voir des pigeons exécuter une danse irlandaise en claquettes.

☘️ Un dernier conseil : si jamais vous célébrez la Saint-Patrick avec enthousiasme, méfiez-vous des lutins, surtout après quelques pintes de bière verte. Ils ont une fâcheuse tendance à se multiplier proportionnellement au nombre de verres bus, et je peux vous assurer qu’ils ne sont pas les meilleurs compagnons de beuverie.

Sláinte ! 🍀


Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Celebrations, Culture, Holidays, Personal experiences, Traditions, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The week that was 11-2025

Posted on March 16, 2025 by JJS

🇬🇧

A week of sneezes, seafood and subscriptions

At the time of writing, I am feeling decidedly under the weather, battling a rather unpleasant cold. Given the times we live in, I should probably take a COVID test, but let’s be honest—I’d rather not confirm what I suspect. This all started four days ago, which has meant a lot of staying in, sipping tea, and contemplating my life choices.

However, on Thursday, the lure of the seaside was too strong. Plus, I had already promised my brother I’d help him take his BMW motorbike to the dealer in Narbonne for servicing. Duty called, so off we went. Once the bike was safely in the hands of the mechanics, we headed to the Halles de Narbonne, the town’s covered market, where the usual buzz of activity made me momentarily forget my sniffles. A quick coffee at one of the stands gave us the perfect excuse to people-watch—a timeless sport requiring no special equipment, just a warm beverage and an appreciation for human quirks.

From Narbonne, it’s a short drive to Gruissan, where we faced an unexpected challenge: finding a bistro around the port for a much-needed apéritif. I had conveniently forgotten that this time of year is winter holiday season, meaning many businesses were closed. Ah yes, now I remember why I like to escape the region in February.

Lunch, however, was a different story. We had set our sights on La Cambuse du Saunier, the seafood restaurant at Salin de Gruissan, and it did not disappoint. My tourteau (that’s a proper French crab for the uninitiated) was excellent, my brother’s cassoulet de seiches (a squid cassoulet—yes, you read that right) was intriguing, and the girls’ fish cooked in salt was deemed a success. We left full and content, already knowing we’d be back soon.

A Fiery Sichuan Remedy

Back home in Carcassonne on Friday evening, we went to a Chinese restaurant in the Bastide—a place I used to frequent but somehow drifted away from during the COVID era. For the second time in a week, I indulged in their hot and spicy Sichuan-style dishes. Excellent, and, as a bonus, it briefly cleared my sinuses. Who needs decongestants when you have chili peppers?

Small Wins and Subscription Spring Cleaning

The rest of the week was quieter but, in hindsight, quite productive. I made my planned trip to the town hall to finalize my application for a new ID card. Sophie, the assistant who helped me, was as efficient and friendly as ever. In about six weeks, I’ll have a shiny new credit card-sized ID, which means one thing: I now need a new wallet.

I also tackled something long overdue—trimming down my internet subscriptions. Over the years, I had accumulated an alarming number of small, seemingly insignificant monthly charges. Individually, they’re harmless. Collectively? They add up to a ridiculous amount for things I barely use. Armed with my trusty Excel spreadsheet, I went on a cancellation spree. It’s not over yet, but progress has been made.

Onward to Next Week

So, despite feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train of germs, it’s been a satisfying week. Next up: packing for a trip, with the added challenge of EasyJet’s tiny bag policy. Wish me luck.

Wishing you all a wonderful Sunday—stay healthy, and if you find yourself drowning in subscriptions, take a deep breath and start hitting “cancel.”

🇫🇷

Une semaine de rhume, fruits de mer et abonnements

Au moment où j’écris ces lignes, je suis franchement mal en point, terrassé par un vilain rhume. Vu le contexte actuel, je devrais sans doute faire un test COVID, mais soyons honnêtes… je préfère ne pas avoir la confirmation de ce que je soupçonne déjà. Tout a commencé il y a quatre jours, ce qui signifie que j’ai passé beaucoup de temps à la maison, une tasse de thé à la main, à remettre en question mes choix de vie.

Mais jeudi, l’appel de la mer était trop fort. Et puis, j’avais promis à mon frère de l’aider à emmener sa moto BMW chez le concessionnaire à Narbonne pour l’entretien. Devoir oblige, nous avons donc pris la route. Une fois la moto entre de bonnes mains, nous nous sommes dirigés vers les Halles de Narbonne, où l’ambiance animée du marché m’a momentanément fait oublier mon nez bouché. Un café rapide à l’un des stands nous a offert l’occasion parfaite d’observer les passants—un sport intemporel ne nécessitant qu’une boisson chaude et un goût pour les bizarreries humaines.

De là, direction Gruissan, où nous avons rencontré un problème inattendu : trouver un bistro autour du port pour un apéritif relevait du parcours du combattant. J’avais commodément oublié qu’à cette période de l’année, c’est les vacances d’hiver et que beaucoup d’établissements sont fermés. Ah oui, maintenant je me souviens pourquoi j’aime fuir la région en février.

Le déjeuner, en revanche, fut une toute autre histoire. Nous avions jeté notre dévolu sur La Cambuse du Saunier, le restaurant de fruits de mer du Salin de Gruissan, et nous n’avons pas été déçus. Mon tourteau était excellent, le cassoulet de seiches de mon frère intriguant, et le poisson cuit en croûte de sel des filles un succès. Nous sommes repartis repus et satisfaits, déjà certains de revenir très bientôt.

Un Remède Sichuanais en Version Épicée

De retour à Carcassonne vendredi soir, nous sommes allés dîner dans un restaurant chinois de la Bastide—un établissement que je fréquentais beaucoup avant, mais que j’avais délaissé pendant la période COVID. Pour la deuxième fois en une semaine, je me suis laissé tenter par leurs plats sichuanais épicés. Un régal, et en prime, cela m’a temporairement débouché les sinus. Qui a besoin de décongestionnants quand on a du piment ?

Petites Victoires et Grand Ménage dans les Abonnements

Le reste de la semaine a été plus calme mais, avec le recul, plutôt productif. J’ai enfin effectué ma visite prévue à la mairie pour finaliser ma demande de nouvelle carte d’identité. Sophie, l’assistante qui s’est occupée de moi, a une fois de plus été d’une efficacité et d’une gentillesse remarquables. D’ici six semaines environ, je recevrai enfin ma nouvelle carte d’identité au format carte bancaire. Ce qui signifie une chose : il va falloir que je me trouve un nouveau portefeuille.

J’ai également attaqué un chantier qui traînait depuis trop longtemps : faire le tri dans mes abonnements en ligne. Au fil des années, j’avais accumulé un nombre alarmant de petits prélèvements mensuels. Pris individuellement, ils passent inaperçus. Mais mis bout à bout ? Ils forment une somme absurde pour des services que je n’utilise quasiment pas. Armé de mon fidèle tableau Excel, j’ai entrepris une grande purge. Ce n’est pas encore terminé, mais le ménage est bien avancé.

Cap sur la Semaine Prochaine

Alors, malgré l’impression d’avoir été percuté par un train rempli de microbes, cette semaine a été plutôt satisfaisante. Prochaine mission : préparer ma valise pour un voyage, avec l’épineux défi des restrictions bagages d’EasyJet. Souhaitez-moi bonne chance.

Link back to my master Blog J2S 

Posted in Lifestyle, Personal reflections | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment