Some aspects of lockdown are very confusing. One of my jobs is catering. Been that way for years, ever since J served up a cabbage leaf, carrot and a knife. She said it was a DYI coleslaw. Sydney, by the way, means a fish and chip shop when he squawks about chippies. The chippies label is a hangover from his days following us around overseas.
Back in the day, on holiday in Paris, we found Dose cafe on rue Mouffetard. They served coffee just like at home. It became a regular morning stop. We would occupy a table near a power outlet, fire up the computers and sit drinking coffee and writing. I felt very chic when we did this. I hoped the locals would see me as a Hemingway type figure, and J, to me was just like the author of Travels with Myself and Another.
Sydney was stretchered off, straight back to the SPA (Seabird Protection Agency). He is now under sedation for a sore beak and will not, I repeat, will not be allowed to leave for several days. And he will be limited to nothing more than Scrabble. Knowing Sydney, though, it will soon turn to squabble. A phone call is bound to happen, maybe J and I could sneak off.
It seems Sydney hit soft sand at speed, broke off the nose wheel, and catapulted out the front. The silly fool forgot to fly. The phrase silly fool is from my grandfather. As a child I remember him describing old Wattie as a silly fool to my grandmother. I never knew who old Wattie was but I certainly knew he was a silly fool. As a child that phrase rolled around my tongue for years.
The Marriage at Canna is on the wall directly opposite the Mona Lisa. Make sure if you go to the Louve to see ML, that you do a one-eighty and there in the top right-hand corner is Great-grandpa Syd. He’s the redbeak wearing the hat.
The hat is really an empty red 2-litre ice cream container worn as a crash helmet. It is a tradition in Syd’s family and goes back a number of generations. I have done some research on the history of the hat and will probably write it up in a future posting.