All The Way Back From Yvignac!

September 20, 2017 12:01am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 22 Comments

Yvignac, Brittany

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

I’m back from my little junket Francais. Despite the fact that Ryanair have hit the news headlines by cancelling pretty much all of their flights from everywhere with an estimated 17 million pound compensation hand out, they didn’t stop mine. Selfish.


Du Pain, Du Vin, Du Kouign Amann

As I sipped on a rather pleasant Burgandy in the sunshine with a kouign amann as company, I read about some bloke being stuck in Bordeaux and how devastated he felt at being stranded. Get a grip, pal. Go to the winery and rejoice. Why do people fail to see the positive angle in a situation?

Just recently, for instance, I read about some English bloke not being able to get back home from Florida ( only a few days into his holiday) when the recent hurricane hit. Apparently, all economy seats back to Blighty were taken. What did he do? Well, let me tell you. Instead of taking the opportunity to fly internally to another state and have an adventure, he paid an extortionate six grand for a first class flight so he could go home. He then goes on the BBC news to complain at the travesty. Honestly…I spat my Weetabix out and shouted at the TV in disbelief. What a numpty. He deserves to be skint. He should be banned from travelling.


Words of Wisdom From Your Art philosopher Behind The Doors

I’m going to be very serious now which I appreciate is somewhat astonishing but happens on occasion. Pay attention to this fleeting advice before I revert to type.

Life is but an adventure, people. Travel makes you richer than anything else. Get out, have fun and don’t die with the music still inside you. Face fears, fiddle ferociously with fun and snatch every opportunity that presents itself. It doesn’t have to be expensive, it doesn’t have to be far away – it just has to be new. There’s nothing like visiting fresh places and meeting new faces. You never know what you’re going to come across. I have met people in many lands: All genders, all ages and different cultures. Some I have just shared a twenty minute drink with; some just a laugh at a dinner party, or a random conversation about this and that. I’ll never see some of them again but for a moment in life we shared a little bit of joy and laughter.

I’ve made firm, lasting friends too. The kind that would have your back in a bar fight (very useful) and some that I can’t imagine being without.

Well ain’t that just marvellous? Sweet as Cherry Co-la.

Don’t be afraid to take chances and live! In a hundred years nobody is going to care or remember who you are anyway so GO AND BLOODY ENJOY YOURSELF!

Lesson endeth.


Pictures, Huîtres And The Ways of French Suitors.

I like France. Just don’t tell the French I said that. I arrived in Dinard, got collected by fabulous friends and driven out to the beautiful countryside – Fremeur, Yvignac. Peace reigned. The only sound I could hear was the fizzy champagne as it poured into my glass. Music, puhleease!

Night fell and the sky lit up with a gazillion stars because it was proper dark. The only problem being I couldn’t see my arse from my elbow and managed to poke myself in the eye playing ‘how close can I put my hand to my face before I can see it.’ The things you do to entertain yourself in a shabby chic French bedroom when you’re full of bubbles. Heh.

But what a bonnes vacances I had!

I went to La Gacilly (sounds a bit Welsh but thankfully isn’t) where I visited a free, outdoor photography exhibition. I have taken pictures of splendid pictures. Oh yes. Why have a camera and shoot yourself?

I visited the stunning town of Dinan and marvelled over a curly mad moustache that served my Gallette Complete.

I attended a bit of a soiree, like ya do in French France, naturellement. In France the tradition is that when you clink glasses with someone else you must maintain eye contact during the first sip. If you don’t, you won’t have sex for seven years. Obviously, nobody wants to befall that curse which means you end up drinking way too much and forget to blink. Personally, I think undatable, shy French folk have made this shit up in an attempt to bag a ride.

I took a chance stroll round the Vide Grenier which means car boot sale but sounds far more exotic. It’s not. Tat is tat no matter what country it’s in.

Finished up in Cancale, the oyster capital of France. I’m not a fan of oysters. I’ve tried a couple of times but, umm, nope. Like swallowing a ball of cold phlegm. This is why the French insist that they are an aphrodisiac because otherwise nobody in their right mind would eat them. If a French bloke ever takes you out on a date and buys you a plate of oysters, trust me, he’s using it as a prerequisite to your oral abilities.

People with woeful imagination believe that half a dozen of these molluscs are going to magically improve their sex life. Hmm. From a deviant point of view, possibly: “Oh yes darling, after that plate of delicious oysters you made me eat, I’m fair gagging for it. Let me strip down to my silky French lingerie..oops…Mon Dieu! Hold up, lover boy, I think I’m gonna puke…”
Off she goes to bend over the bidet and OOH-LA-LA , there ya have it, a sitting duck. Monsieur désespéré is up the back of her french knickers faster than a frisky ferret.

Zees French, zay are veree sneeekeee.

Anyway, people sit at the seafront here with a plate of oysters and throw their empty shells onto the beach. Novel. I sensibly went for a proper three course meal with beaucoup de ‘vin de necessaire.’ I am smart and not fooled by Frenchified shenanigans.

C’est ca, my petite vol au vents! I will leave you with une petite histoire Francais because stories are so much better in pictures….


Leave a reply

I too am a fan of France… which annoys me, really.
That baguette machine! The French are way ahead of us in many respects.
“Oysters: like licking phlegm off a tortoise” – Frank Skinner

Yeah, I get that Masher. You can’t let the Frenchies get the upper hand by knowing this.

It’s the first time I’ve see a “Baguette and go” machine. What intrigued me was that it came out hot! Is there a little dwarf inside making them up on request? Anyway, as amusing and progressive as it is having a du pain dispenser, I prefer having to go to the boulangerie.

Ha! He’s right! Ewwww. You can squeeze as much lemon as you like onto them and it’s still the same.

One is not STUCK in Bordeaux. One is STUCK in the office. Get it right, sir, you giant baby-man.

Not everyone is the same, my lovely. My brother NEVER travels ANYWHERE. He’s not comfortable unless he’s stationary. Different needs. That’s why they invented menus.

Right! What a stupid man!

I can’t get my head around never travelling, M. OK, but surely he wanders round his local area doing new and interesting things? Right? He must? He doesn’t does he…..

I can’t sit bloody still. Maybe it’s me with the problem then! As problems go, I’m happy with that! 🙂

What a beautiful video, Jules. I love northern France and French food and wine though I’m not good with any shellfish. You’ve certainly put me off oysters for life though I think you should write some comical French erotica!

Thank you, Jane. 🙂

I prefer northern France – the people still have that “you saved our arse at Pegasus Bridge” nicety about them. And, it’s very pretty and rustic.

Comical French erotica? Well, I’ll give it a shot! 🙂

Eating oysters on the half-shell convinces the men at the bar that you’re the right sort of girl – or so it’s been said.

I prefer Northern France, just because I do. They’re still French, but the rustic style of the countryside in the Rhone Country has a powerful appeal to me. You need to explore Lyon in future trips – but keep your emergency clown nose handy in your purse just in case. You never know when you’ll need it.

The right sort of gal, eh? Oh yeah…. I prefer to keep ’em guessing, Larry 🙂

I do too. It’s much nicer. Rugged beauty.

My clown nose is ALWAYS in my purse – I mean bag – purses are where one keeps money, honey. Tch!

France. Bread, cheese, wine and these neat little towns and villages. All good. The French? Maybe not so much. And I’m with Masher, more baguette machines, please. Uplifting sermon, too. Must travel more as soon as babysitting permits!

MMMMM….LOVE ALL those things, LSP!

No. Whilst the baguette machine is novel, it will put those pretty little boulangerie’s out of business and then I won’t be able to get a croissant or pain au chocolat and I will be hideously annoyed.

Look, I’m happy to write your sermons for you if you like. I’ll even go above and beyond my usual MO and do ’em for free. All I need in return is to be washed of my sins. DAILY. And since you’re a lot closer to the Boss than me, I reckon he’ll listen to you! 🙂

I just saw Casablanca for the first time this week and I’m fragile. all up in my feelings. one more “No Regrets” and I’ll fall over like a feather.

okay, one more. you be Edith’s serenading mouth and I’ll be the piece of Dove chocolate:


Ahhh – I see what you did there. You checked for me. I like that.

*Don’t Ever Eat Dove Chocolate* You’ll go from 15 to waiting to die in less than a minute. *)

I just got an indifferent TV face and a “This video is not available” OH, HOW I AM BESIEGED WITH REGRET! And I so desperately wanted to be Edith’s serenading mouth – that’s so up my street.

Don’t watch Casablanca again, my sweet, you’ll only regret it -Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. *)

Clever 🙂

Thanks 🙂 *Drops mic and leaves*

Now I’m home from our rural French idyll, I can connect with the world and comment.
You summed things up perfectly Jules. Regarding the oysters, we used to love a plate of them sat by the sea and throwing the shells with gay abandon, can’t throw anything in the UK, not even a smile!
Anyway, after a bout of the worst food poisoning we have ever suffered in our lives, never again! I know that you should never say never, but I mean never!
I think after your little junket you can see why we love that little corner of France, and yearn to be at our cottage. It goes without saying, you must return.

Glad to be back, eh? Yeah, yeah?….NO.

You can throw a sardonic comment – that seems to be the British go to 🙂

I had a similar experience with scallops. Holy mother of Hell – I made Alien and the child from Exorcist look like child’s play. In fact, I think that particular episode is responsible for my indifference; I must’ve thrown up my soul. Now I scorn scallops. And those pesky Louisiana crawfish. Bleh. Get me a bacon sarnie.

Well, thank YOU for inviting me! I had the loveliest of times and damn right I’m coming back! Try stopping me! It’s a beautiful haven, Theresa xx

Dangitall Jules, I had enough trouble translating YOUR English to MY English, what with bacon sarnie, Weetabix, numpty, car boot sale, knickers, and, of course, the infamous Budgie Smuggler. But I hung in there even though my auto-correct told me they were ALL spelled wrong.
NOW you are hitting me with that durn Frog talk ! Sacre Bleu ! (I was going to say “Quel Putain” but there were 2 quite different meanings, 1 that would probably get your knickers in a proper knot)
But anyhoo, it seems a lovely place. Never been there, but I have been to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and I worked with a lot of coon-asses in the oil fields, so I guess that makes me qualified to pass these words of wisdom on to you :
” Quality shellfish should ALWAYS be breaded, deep-fried, and placed inside of a baguette.”
BUT, until we become more civilized here in the USA, you will have to settle for a baguette from a bakery.

Ah, here he is, the last man standing, coming to tell us (who’ve been speaking this language longest) that we don’t spell stuff correctly whilst starting his retort with “Dangitall” *LOL*

See, Terry, look how your much your life has improved since coming into contact with moi. Who’d have thought a British bird could teach you new tricks, eh?

Zut Alors! I may be a working girl with a persona that conjures up imagery of ‘all fur coat and no knickers’ but that’s a bit below the belt, squire….. 😉

Wisdomous words. How to take a dish and send it to taste sensation orbit. However, if you’re gonna ‘Merricanise it, let’s do it properly. You missed out rivers of Ketchup, ranch dressing, BBQ sauce, a ton of fried onion rings and a side of heart attack potatoes. And sod the baguette, stick it on a honey wheat loaf from the Cheesecake Factory and I reckon you’ve got yourself a winning dish. Now, you’re talking! Take it to France and show ‘em how it’s done!


Yes my life has taken quite a turn for the better since our making contact Jules.
Now, If and when we Yanks invade your shores, I will be in high demand as a translator.
Merveilleux !

Translator? Now my dark, twisted, provocative and totally inappropriate mind wants to make a pun about your English oral, Terry. But I won’t ;P

PAS PUTAINEMENT WAY! Hahahahahahaha! I LOVE that!

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