Where is the Sea

From the bar in the hotel in Dunoon, near Glasgow, we had a lovely view of the Clyde. It was a quiet evening and we enjoyed a pint of beer not saying a lot, just taking in what we saw: the Clyde and an amazing sunset. If you stretched your head a bit you could see the smokers in front of the hotel. They were quite loud compared to the quiet lot in the bar.

The door was opened and an elderly man kept it open while a little old lady struggled to pass it with her Zimmer frame. Because of the struggle they obviously wanted to get a seat as soon as possible and not to walk across the whole bar. Politely they asked us if they could share our table. Of course we had no problems with that.

They were a bit more talkative than we were at that moment. We got an explanation as to why she had to use the Zimmer frame and the reason she would be glad to get rid of it again. “I did miss her a lot when she was in hospital”, the old man said. “We have been a couple for six years now, so we are very used to each other’s company. We do have our own houses, but we are a couple.” My wife and I nodded that we understood. “I have a huge house”, he added to make it more logical.  “Yes, he has!” she agreed. He added more: “But I keep it very clean.” “Yes, he does!” she agreed again.

They were 92 and 91 and still fond of travelling, seeing different places and enjoying the scenery. “I wonder where the sea is”, he said. My wife pointed in the right direction. “Oh! I really expected the sea to be the other way.” He was silent for a little while.                                     

“I have something with the sea and the oceans. I joined the Royal Navy in 1935. In the second world war I was on ships that protected the convoys with goods for Russia. We would sail along till Iceland where the Americans took over from us.”

“I do wonder where the sea is from this point of view”, he wondered aloud. My wife pointed towards the direction again. It surprised him again, he really thought it was the other way. He told us he joined the navy when he was almost 15. It had not always been easy, but he would do it again if he could.

My wife asked him what his function was in the Navy. “I was a navigator”, he answered.        

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A Bet

It wasn't very busy in the back street local pub that Saturday afternoon. I realized that the football team Norwich City had a home match. This pub showed BBC which only had people talking about the matches that were on this afternoon. To see the match you would have to go to the stadium, watch it on Sky Sports (you pay for that) or go to a pub with a satellite disc so you can watch it on a Norwegian channel without sound but with a pint.

The pub played next to the television with talking heads another one with horse races on Channel Four. The volume was almost off, so it was not possible to hear anything but the blaring nineties music that came from the radio. Once in a while the volume of this TV was turned up when a race was on. Horses with jockeys on their backs had to run on a track with obstacles of hedges.  And the nearer they got to the finish the more the jockeys would slam their whips on the flanks of the horses.

The landlord of the pub asked a man at the bar when his race was on. "In ten minutes, let's have a pint with this." He took the remote control of the TV and his beer and sat at a table. He studied the schedule one more time and waited patiently. Finally it was on. He turned up the volume so much the radio was not audible anymore. The horses and jockeys were introduced first while they were led to the track by a person walking next to the horse.

A man with a sort of umbrella gave a sign and then they were off. The landlord and some other men joined the gambler at his table. The horse was doing quite well, was on the third or fourth spot constantly. Everything was possible. But then the horse fell when he landed after jumping over the fourth obstacle. The jockey rolled away from the horse, stood up and walked back. The fallen horse got to his feet and followed the other horses, but he skipped every obstacle.

The gambler turned down the volume, his mates walked away and the landlord went back behind the bar. A new customer came in, ordered a beer and walked to the unlucky man.
"How did the race go?" he asked.
"The bloody horse fell!" was the answer. He shook his head in disbelief, tore the schedule to pieces and ordered a new pint.

Kafka in France

In the seventies I thought about a nice way of deciding where to go on a holiday. I just closed my eyes having the map of Europe in front of me and a needle in my hand. And I just pricked the needle in the map and then had a look at it.
I saw I had hit Issoire in central France, a city not far away from Clermont-Ferrand. In these days there were no possibilities like nowadays where you can find nice hotels on the net. And the travel agency didn't have any information whatsoever about the city.

                                         Train to Issoire

But I just went, took the night train to Paris, took another train over there and yet another and finally a sort of omnibus train with wooden benches and  finally arrived in the late afternoon the following day.
The station was quite old and lovely, but I was so tired that I didn't have much eye for that. So I walked out of the station into the center of the town. I entered the first brasserie I saw and asked the lady behind the bar in my best French if she knew any hotel or bed and breakfast for me in the town.
I was very lucky: they had a vacant room above the brasserie. She gave me the key of the room, explained how to get there and asked me to come back later to fill out the requested forms and have a nice cold beer.

                                          Issoire

The room was simple but clean and after dropping my luggage over there I did get the cold beer she promised me. With her help I filled in my details on the forms and after a nice meal with some more beer I went to bed.
The next morning I got some advice about sightseeing from her together with the breakfast. The town itself was quite pretty but not very touristy.
Next to the medieval church there wasn't a lot. She told me to walk out of town, into the fields, to the castle that looked over the fields from the hill it was built on.

The walk was really wonderful; it was in the middle of summer and the corn was high so it almost was like walking through a dry canal with lovely shores. It took me an hour to reach the castle and everything was very quiet. I never knew they had siesta in France, but it sure looked like that over here. After two a shop opened and I bought a bottle of water and a snack.
All in all the castle itself was a bit disappointing, it was more a big mansion with some cottages surrounding it.
But I had seen it and I had made photographs of it to prove it.

On my way back there suddenly appeared a huge African man from a side path. He stopped me and politely asked me in fluent English if I wanted to buy some drugs. I didn't want to, so he greeted me and went his own way again. This thing really puzzled me a bit, I did not see any other African person in the town itself.
How did he know I wasn't French?

                                          Sight on Issoire

The next day I decided to visit Clermont-Ferrand; it is quite old and has a rich history.
There was nobody selling tickets at the station, so I assumed I had to buy a ticket on the train. They didn't run a lot, so I had to wait. I really didn't plan anything.
Now I noticed that the station was quite lovely and old. Next to the main track there were two side tracks where a few rail cars were placed.
I took my camera and started to make some nice photographs.

                                          Trainstation of Issoire

Suddenly somebody grabbed me from behind and started cursing in French at me. I was brought into a room in the station by this man and another man followed us and locked the door behind us. I was placed at a little formica table.
The grabber fired loads of questions at me in a sort of rapid fire. I asked politely to slow down a bit in my best school French.
Telling them that I was a foreigner, a Dutch guy, did not really help. I had to show my passport and the silent one took it and disappeared with it for a few minutes.

I had no idea who these men were and why they had taken me here.
When the silent one came back with my passport things became a bit clearer to me. They started to ask why I made photographs of the station and the platform. I tried to explain, but they just shook their head and demanded to see my camera.
The silent one took it from me, opened it and took the film out.
I got my camera and passport back and they warned me: if I were ever to make photographs of the station again, things would become very grim for me.
For this time they let me go.

                                            Clermont-Ferrand

I was shocked, went back to the brasserie and stayed there the rest of the day. I wanted to talk about this happening to me, but there was nobody to share it with and even then: how to explain this?
The next days I did go to Clermont-Ferrand, really enjoyed it and made loads of nice photographs of ancient churches and statues.
I can't show any of these anymore. Every time you move on, you throw useless things away. And to be honest I could not tell which was which anymore after a few years.
I never used my camera on French stations again.
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Espresso

Our driver parked the coach skillfully between two other coaches and told us we had forty minutes to enjoy a refreshment at the service center right in front of us. So the old and almost old people (like us) got out and walked with or without walking stick and zimmer frame towards the shops and cafes. There were two cafes: one that sold cheap coffee of a brand I never heard about before and one that sold Costa coffee.
The cafe selling the cheap coffee was overcrowded so we chose for Costa.

We found one of the last available free tables and my wife occupied the two chairs that we wanted to use. In the meantime I joined the queue. There were quite a lot of people in front of me, but the staff of Costa proved to be quite good at the job so I neared them quite soon.
The last people in front of me were a woman in her fifties and what looked like her mother. They both had the same very broad hips that were made even more visible by their winter coats.

The daughter had a look on the display behind the young men who formed the staff. She began to make weird gestures, it was obvious that she became nervous. When I looked at what she must have been seeing, I could imagine her problem. She wanted coffee, but only at the top of the list was the work Coffee.
And then followed the different types of coffee: cappuccino, latte, americano and so on.

Finally she spoke out: "I want coffee!"
The young man asked: "What type of coffee would you like, madam?"
She got red faced: "Coffee!"
He suggested: "Maybe cappuccino? Like that lady has over there?"
She hissed: "I don't want milk! I want coffee!"
He sighed: "Espresso?"
In the meantime she was checking the price list.
She was curious: "What do I get when I order espresso?"
He showed her an espresso cup.

Immediately she became furious!
"You think I'm daft or what? For that price you get that? Are you taking the piss?!!"
He tried to explain: "But..."
"Come on Ma! This a complete rip off. A couple of robbing bastards!"
While they were walking away, I heard "Ma" stepping in: "Ridiculous!"

It was my turn.
The young man looked almost desperately at me.
"Two double espresso, please", I said.
I heard a deep sigh and he started to work on my order.
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Mind Games

On every stop we made new people would join our group in the coach travelling towards Devon. The last addition was near Bristol.  It was three elderly women who all took a seat next to one that remained vacant.
Near us one got seated. She obviously didn't have her teeth in which gave her the possibility to touch her chin with her nose. It made her look a bit retarded to say the least.

She fumbled with the safety belt which you are required to use nowadays. After a few minutes she gave up and growled something like "You do it!" to me. It sounded a bit rude, but coming from an elderly lady  I couldn't refuse to do this for her. So I clicked her in safely and also showed her the armrest. It took a little trick to put that in the right position. She didn't thank me, not even a nod was given.

The ride took hours and most people used this time to read, puzzle, eat, drink or sleep. I  tried to do a crossword puzzle but gave up on this because of the sudden movements the coach made on this part of the journey. Putting letters on the right spot proved to be a bit difficult like that.
My eyes were drawn to the left where the old woman was sitting. She was playing a sort of game with her hands on her legs. She started on her thighs and moved them separately towards her knees. And then one of the hands won and she would start again.

After some time I lost interest and tried to read a bit. The landscape that appeared withdrew my attention from the book and I looked out of the window for some time. England sure was prettier than I had always thought!
A muffled sound made me look to the old lady again. She was sort of drumming on her legs, alternating with the seat in front of her and with the armrest. She had no earphones on, the radio on the coach was off.
She must have had a song in her head and she drummed along like she was the drummer of a rock band.

An hour later we made a stop at a service center. The driver gave us one hour to have coffee or such. To make things very clear he said: "Be back at 3:45; a quarter 'til four!"
"Wha?" the old woman shouted. The driver repeated what he said. "Wha?" she yelled again.
So he shouted the mentioned time in her ear and tried to point it out on his watch in front of her.
She nodded and walked along with the rest towards Costa Coffee.
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The Evil Eye

It was very surprising to experience to be accepted so soon. After some years as a somewhat lonely child, because there were hardly any children in the forest where we lived, I found myself surrounded by the village children. I was amazed and sometimes it almost got too much and I tried to get away from the rowdy company. But most of the times I was just very happy with the luxury of so many friends.

The village was quite small and there were hardly any facilities. We had our school, there was a church, a pub that had closed down years before but functioned as an off license, a bakery where you could buy sweets, a milkman without a shop (but you could get milk at the back door) and a smithy. It does not sound like there was a lot to do for children, but our days were always filled.
When we were not in school or on our expeditions in the fields surrounding the village or playing football on the grass in front of the school we would spy on the blacksmith.

His big wooden double doors were always open during the day. The  fire that the blacksmith used made the work space very warm. We would peep in hiding behind these doors, not making a sound. At first I didn't know what this was all about, but the others explained it to me very clear. The blacksmith had the evil eye and when you were caught in his vision you or a person in your family would become seriously ill and could even die.
So whenever the man turned around from his hammering on the glowing metal we would run off, the girls sometimes screaming from fear.

One day my mother took me to the doctor because a wound on my knee would not heal. We got some cream for that and after that I was ready to go to school. Mother thought it would be better to skip all day and so I found myself alone on the streets. I decided to have a look at the blacksmith.
I found him hammering on some horseshoes, once in a while holding them in the fire and when he was done he held them in the water causing a lot of hissing and steam.
"Better show yourself kid!" he suddenly shouted. To my surprise I found myself walking straight in the smithy instead of running off.

The blacksmith had taken a seat on a stool and gestured me to sit down too. There was a wooden bench near the doors. I felt no fear I could run off easily. My sore knee didn't bother me that much and I knew already that the man was not very young. He asked me why I was not in school and I explained. He nodded, maybe he had been wondering if this was a day off for all the children.
Now I noticed that he was cross-eyed. Maybe the children knew this too and made this story about the evil eye?

The blacksmith started telling me about the way the children reacted on him. He invented the story himself, by this he tried to keep the children away from the smithy. It was far too dangerous for them.
He asked me to run to the bakery and get him a loaf of bread. No money was needed, I just had to tell him it's for the blacksmith. And on my return he would give me something.    
So I did what he asked me to do and he gave me a few cents.
"And don't tell the others. This is our secret!" I nodded and he told me to go home.
When I left he told me that if I was on my own I could ask him if I could sit on the bench again and maybe I could do an errand again.

I did some more errands in the time that followed. Sometimes I would run along with the other children away from the smithy while coins were tinkling in my pocket.
A year later the smithy closed it's doors forever; the blacksmith had suddenly died and there was nobody willing to take over the business. The smithy stayed like this for years and years. I heard rumors about relatives and the municipality to quarrel about the building.
When I left the village to live somewhere else the building was still there, slowly becoming a ruin.

Years later I came to visit the village again. It changed beyond recognition. The population increased a lot and so did the amount of shops: there was even a shopping center.
The smithy had disappeared, instead there was a new building with a cafe in it. The name of it was "The Friendly Neighbor". I myself would have named it "The Evil Eye".
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Philip

It was definitely something else going on a coach trip. Most of the people were elderly. It was funny to see them showing the behavior of young children once in a while. And they would all act in the same way. If one started fumbling with the button for air circulation, the others would follow. If one bought a newspaper, the others wanted to have one too. This sometimes would lead to old ladies excusing themselves to the driver and speeding to a shop to buy one. One lady would always be very late because of that. But the champion of being late was Philip.

Philip was a man in his late sixties. His walking was a bit difficult and to help him with that he had the most peculiar walking stick I've ever seen. The top end resembled a dowsing rod. It was not very smart that he and his wife had seats at the rear of the coach. When he got on, he always had to catch his breath halfway. And then he would smile that naughty, boyish smile of his, while his wife was calling him names from her seat.
He seemed to escape from her all the time. On the first days of the trip she would search for him and together they would get in. But later she seemed to give up on this.

One day the company went shopping in the center of a city. The weather was quite bad, the driver had problems parking and so he dropped us on the pavement in the middle of a street where loads of shops were situated. He told us we had to be back on the same spot at 3pm sharp. There would be no time for waiting because of the traffic in that street. Cars were honking behind the coach to demonstrate that. We all promised to do such.
But of course: when it was near 3pm we were all gathered waiting for our transport, except Philip.
So when the coach came, we all hopped in and the driver drove out of the street. Everybody was laughing, except the wife of Philip. She was furious!

We drove a few blocks and then everybody shouted: "There he is!"
The driver stopped and our lost sheep got in and even before he could sit, the coach started to move.
Philip blamed everybody for being late except himself. This caused his wife to start cursing and the driver to threaten that the next time he would just drive back to the hotel and would leave Philip to find his own solution to get back to the hotel.
He even made us synchronize our watches; for Philip!

The next day the weather was bad again, so the trip again went to shops. This time to a shopping mall in another city. Again the time to get back on the bus was put on 3pm .
At that time a miracle happened: Philip was on time, on his own and showing a big grin. He looked like being proud of his own achievement.
Time went on, but his wife was still missing. Finally at ten past three she appeared and got on.
"You're late Honey! I was already here ages ago!" Philip shouted, while laughing.
"You fool! Shut up! I have been searching for you all over the bloody mall! And why don't you answer your bloody phone?"

She took her seat and started telling stories about Philip's bad behavior to the people near her until we reached the hotel. Philip was silent and sulking the rest of the trip.
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