Englishman Buys Bar 4 - including the story of the stag party and the Jaguar that didn't fit the gap it was aimed at.

By John Harries-Harries

Flashback to the first wedding. Could the associated stag party have sown the seeds of the divorce that happened 32 years later?

Hopefully, the water in Brittany will taste the same as it did in England.

2 Nov 2002

A lifetime to go. It seems that we will never leave England, because of The Conspiracy. Even the weather is against us. The storms last week left a trail of damage around the village, and although we got away very lightly, it still meant half a dozen extra minor tasks

If all the problems were big ones, I could come to terms with my ill-humour, shortness of temper, and general antipathy towards the whole human race. But it is just a death of a thousand cuts.

There are only 2 weeks to the off. I have written letters or e-mailed just about all the commercial contacts I have here. It is no simple task to cancel standing orders that have run for so long, I can hardly remember what they are for, let alone where, and whom, I must contact
.
Even a trip to the dentist for a final check-up resulted in being measured for a 'small' bridge which will cost the earth and will be fitted just a couple of days before we leave. Please Lord; make the technician a master of his art, that the damn thing fits first time.

When I brought back the incredible shrinking van, [see episode 2], with all the drama that I have come to expect, I chewed on a sweet given to me by Lucy. One of my molars quite literally disintegrated, and I have spent the last week with a very painful gumboil [or ulcer], which hasn't assisted my sunny disposition one iota.

Chris and I are very careful around each other at the moment, as we feel the tension building. With all the expense, we cannot go through another divorce just now.

We notice that all the people we ask to 'do their bit' promise to come, but only manage it after a series of phone calls. They all ask us to come for a drink, have dinner, meet them at the pub or whilst shopping. Don't they understand? If we get 5 minutes peace, we have a nap. If we have 10 minutes to spare, we complete another of the myriad tasks set before us.

I have moved house before, of course. It is always a difficult, challenging, time, but this is something else. Now I know why George {East] calls me mad. I thought it was because he hadn't realised my name is John, but now conclude he is right. No one remotely sane does this to himself and his family unless he is seriously disturbed. 

What is interesting is that so many of our friends claim to be envious! George tells me he gets scores, if not hundreds, of otherwise sensible English correspondents asking him how best to go about buying a 'little bar in France', so they can escape the rat-race and live their idealised lives elsewhere.

I hope my scribbling opens eyes, minds and hearts. If I really admit it, I see myself as a bit of a frontiersman, heading westwards to enjoy magnificent golden sunsets. In reality, of course, I am merely challenging the conventional middle-aged descent into sedentary retirement. 

Fortunately my wife and daughter are just as enthusiastic, and are rising to the challenges. How lucky I am
.
We didn't bother with a honeymoon this time. We see the 'troisieme age' ahead of us as a suitable substitute. Our first honeymoon did not proceed smoothly at all. In the sixties, 'Stag' nights were held on the eve of the wedding. Usually with disastrous results. I was on CID [detective] at the time of mine, so the local pub was not too worried about closing time! I can recall that we went along the optics, drinking each 'short' with a raw egg in it! I can also recall the landlady shouting loudly as our numbers dwindled 'Get him out before he becomes ill', or sentiments like that. I believe there was also a little matter of a Jaguar not quite getting through the gap between a jewellers' shop window and a lamp standard.

I awoke 2 hours before the wedding in a somewhat fragile state. I was also running a little late for the ceremony. Now for the bride to be late is one thing, but for the groom to be in a local hotel with the best man, father of the bride, and sundry hangers-on, having a drop of restorative, was not a good start to the day.

I fell asleep during the ceremony. Fortunately my grandmother had a charm bracelet, which rattled so loudly as she had a little cry, that it woke me at the right moment. I'm sure I got away with it....

We stopped at Exeter on our way to Cornwall. We were too early to eat at a restaurant which had been well recommended [The Ship], and so went to a 'chain' nearby. I played safe with a mixed grill, and Chris ordered a fillet steak. 

By this time we were leaking confetti around the place, to the great amusement of staff and customers alike. The waitress brought the dishes with a flourish, and with silver covers over each one. Lo! A great looking mixed grill. LOW! On lifting the silver salver, Chris was faced by her steak. Alone. No veg. No trimmings. 

We asked if it was a local custom to serve a lone steak. The waitress said no, people usually asked for vegetables with it. When the steak returned with veg., I had finished my grill. Unfortunately the chef had not cooked another steak. When the vegetables were ready, the steak was past its best. Chris was in tears, and the rest of the journey was undertaken in silence. No wonder we divorced just 32 years later....

We are in constant touch with our friends in Brittany. We get a blow-by-blow account of the interest of the villagers in our venture. They seem to be impatient for us to get there and open up the bar. Whilst we too wish to be up and running, we have yet to even buy it. The prospect of eager and, I trust, extremely thirsty customers does keep the adrenalin flowing.

And I am STILL waiting for my bank to send me a chequebook for euros.

* * *

I'm getting a little worried. John went off-air soon after sending this, and neither George nor I has heard from him since. Hopefully, this is just because getting his computer up and running and connected to the Internet is low on his list of priorities.

If we don't hear from him before Christmas, I'm going to have to wheedle George into driving through the sleet and ice to see if he is all right. Perhaps Donella can take a chicken along, too. 

* * *

If you want to congratulate or encourage John (or sympathise with Chris and Lucy)  e-mail me with your thoughts or advice, or better still, write to the Notice Board.

Have fun.

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