Jeux sans frontieres...
Words from a Bird. Day 116
If there was any doubt as to whether Britain should remain in Europe,
there certainly wasn't one after our attempts at international
relations around the pool yesterday afternoon.
We had been watching two men of indeterminate sexuality making out around the pool, rubbing suncream into each other´s rather rotund
bodies and sharing the largest spliff I have ever seen. As the
afternoon wore on, and the spliff got shorter, one of the men started
acting rather strangely, taking on the appearance of Animal from the
Muppets, waving his arms around in the air in an erratic fashion. As we continued to be amused by their behaviour, laughing loudly on our sunloungers, it was only a matter of time before Animal headed our way, clutching the remains of his spliff and a carrier bag. Miss R, who prides herself on her ability to flush out a gay man, insisted on telling him how wonderful it was that they were so open with their love for each other. The man was appalled.....turns out that they are just good
friends. He hailed from Belgium. This was my chance to shine, as I
have an O Level in French. How hard could it be to communicate with
one of our European friends?
As it turns out, my memory of the French studied in the middle of the
last century wasn´t too brilliant, so as I stuttered and stumbled over
my classroom French, I managed to offend him in every way possible.
I think that the only thing I managed to get across to him was that he
was a naughty boy (the word ´homme´ was elusive for a second) for
smoking a spliff. Miss R was desperate to know what he had in the
carrier bag. Turns out it was hash...I´m telling you, a change in
hotel could be on the cards next year....he didn´t even offer us a
puff (not that I would have had a clue what to do with it even if he had).
We then moved on to upsetting the annoying Finns who rocked up by the pool again. Mrs W wanted to chat about how dreadful their tattoos were, while I wanted to know whether they had seen any sun over the last year. Miss R said to one of them that she reckoned he was the only handsome man in Finland, looking at the others who all wore grubby white singlets and 3/4 length trousers with long socks and sandals . That was the end of another beautiful relationship as they moved to the other end of the pool quietly muttering about how rude we were (at least I am assuming that´s what they said. My Finnish is almost as bad as my French).
Last night saw us heading to the Casino. As we waited for our taxi, a coach load of middle aged German folk tipped up. As we watched them hurtling towards Reception, Miss R mentioned that an early morning alarm might be advisable to ensure we got our usual sunloungers. Mrs W, ever the realist, offered to sleep by the pool overnight just in case...
So back to the Casino. Well our heads were full of optimism and hope....one hour later, despair took over, and a joint coin collaboration was needed to pay for the taxi home. Back into the bar for the obligatory half pint of Baileys as a nightcap (I may adopt this on my return) at which point Mrs W spotted the piano gathering dust in the corner. This was her moment to shine....
If you remember Les Dawson on the piano, then you have a pretty good idea of what she subjected us and the rest of the hotel guests to. The waiter did a passable impersonation of a Thompsons gazelle, as he vaulted over the bar and ran towards her, shouting at her to remove herself from the piano. So that was the Spanish we managed to pi** off too....
All in all, another sucessful day. Between you and me, I don´t
think that the IN/OUT vote will be needed to decide whether we stay in
Europe.
Between lunchtime and midnight yesterday, the decision was made for us.
We´re really not welcome......
If there was any doubt as to whether Britain should remain in Europe,
there certainly wasn't one after our attempts at international
relations around the pool yesterday afternoon.
We had been watching two men of indeterminate sexuality making out around the pool, rubbing suncream into each other´s rather rotund
bodies and sharing the largest spliff I have ever seen. As the
afternoon wore on, and the spliff got shorter, one of the men started
acting rather strangely, taking on the appearance of Animal from the
Muppets, waving his arms around in the air in an erratic fashion. As we continued to be amused by their behaviour, laughing loudly on our sunloungers, it was only a matter of time before Animal headed our way, clutching the remains of his spliff and a carrier bag. Miss R, who prides herself on her ability to flush out a gay man, insisted on telling him how wonderful it was that they were so open with their love for each other. The man was appalled.....turns out that they are just good
friends. He hailed from Belgium. This was my chance to shine, as I
have an O Level in French. How hard could it be to communicate with
one of our European friends?
As it turns out, my memory of the French studied in the middle of the
last century wasn´t too brilliant, so as I stuttered and stumbled over
my classroom French, I managed to offend him in every way possible.
I think that the only thing I managed to get across to him was that he
was a naughty boy (the word ´homme´ was elusive for a second) for
smoking a spliff. Miss R was desperate to know what he had in the
carrier bag. Turns out it was hash...I´m telling you, a change in
hotel could be on the cards next year....he didn´t even offer us a
puff (not that I would have had a clue what to do with it even if he had).
We then moved on to upsetting the annoying Finns who rocked up by the pool again. Mrs W wanted to chat about how dreadful their tattoos were, while I wanted to know whether they had seen any sun over the last year. Miss R said to one of them that she reckoned he was the only handsome man in Finland, looking at the others who all wore grubby white singlets and 3/4 length trousers with long socks and sandals . That was the end of another beautiful relationship as they moved to the other end of the pool quietly muttering about how rude we were (at least I am assuming that´s what they said. My Finnish is almost as bad as my French).
Last night saw us heading to the Casino. As we waited for our taxi, a coach load of middle aged German folk tipped up. As we watched them hurtling towards Reception, Miss R mentioned that an early morning alarm might be advisable to ensure we got our usual sunloungers. Mrs W, ever the realist, offered to sleep by the pool overnight just in case...
So back to the Casino. Well our heads were full of optimism and hope....one hour later, despair took over, and a joint coin collaboration was needed to pay for the taxi home. Back into the bar for the obligatory half pint of Baileys as a nightcap (I may adopt this on my return) at which point Mrs W spotted the piano gathering dust in the corner. This was her moment to shine....
If you remember Les Dawson on the piano, then you have a pretty good idea of what she subjected us and the rest of the hotel guests to. The waiter did a passable impersonation of a Thompsons gazelle, as he vaulted over the bar and ran towards her, shouting at her to remove herself from the piano. So that was the Spanish we managed to pi** off too....
All in all, another sucessful day. Between you and me, I don´t
think that the IN/OUT vote will be needed to decide whether we stay in
Europe.
Between lunchtime and midnight yesterday, the decision was made for us.
We´re really not welcome......
Comments