Put this one at Hatrat Hugo’s door.
I tried to get out, ….. leave the rocks, leave the stones, leave the geological formations and the entymology behind, before we start in on the anthropology. But-he-pulled-me-back-in.
Stones, Rock, Formations! They’re keeping me awake at nights now.
Everywhere I go, rocks, stones, layers and layers of them. I may be going mad!
It started again when Bilbao got ‘Rocked and Rolled by the Barcelona mob Saturday night. 3:1. Ouch.
So I left Bilbao, headed back into France. Thought, “I’ll be safe there”. Dropped by a place called Carcassone.
I reckon that in days of old with Knights so bold and Crusades being all the rage, that when they pulled out of murdering the muslims in North Africa, there was some joker left with a cancelled export order of about a squillion rock blocks.
So lets call this guy,….. “Eckwitty Corpa”. And he spots a King (Huey, Dewey or Louie) with a BIG ego but a bit bruised by the Arabs uprisings and sells him the idea for ‘not just a castle, but a whole city’ full of his blocks. Brilliant!
Sale of the century(ies) move over. Bet that boy went on and sold ice to the Inuits.
Been so long now since he sold it to them, its finally melted out and now they want it back again.
Who’s up for getting a couple billion tons of ice out of Antarctica and selling it to Greenland?
So anyhow, the Rocks and Stones were still gonna do me in, so did a runner for further south. Popped into Nimes. Well bugger me but finding somewhere to park for a 7 metre long and 2.4m tall van isn’t so easy in France. Never mind though, just drive in the bus and taxi lanes like I own the keys to the city and push on, until,…. BUGGER ME!, They’re back!
Nimes has got a proper “Rock n Stone the Christians gaff” right in the middle of town. Well, I just stopped the ‘hideous’ like I own the main square (and then didn’t need to drop 20 Euro to park it), took the pic and got the hell away to find something peaceful and less with the Rocks and bleeding Stones.
Peace of mind. Thats what I need.
A referral was to see the Pont du Gare. Hmmmm, a Bridge of Gare’s.
Well, whatever a Gare is, for there to be a Pont it’ll be a bridge, with a river. That’ll do.
So while I’m still waiting to have Fast Freddie the Frenchman (that’s satire folks) refill my fire extinguisher, I turn the GPS to “Gare search, local” and we’re off.
Now,.. knock me down dead with a fluffy black beret if I’m lying Mon Amis, but,………. this Pont du Gare deal is a bit of a stone stack.
The difference between the Spaniards and the Romans is that the Romans wanted “Neat and Tidy”. “Don’t just throw the buggers in the sea Claude(ius), I want them stacked, straight as an arrow, with arches.
AND, I want them w-w-w-watertight!”.
(otherwise its off to Nime and into the stadium with a couple of lions).
Actually, the word is that Augustus, lets just call him Augie for short, had a bit of a stutter so Claude got caught with a treble on the arches and three layer watertightness too.
Well people, as you can imagine, by now I’d had just about enough of Roger Herrick poking pins into a doll and dropping sand and stones on it, so I got a bit of Classic Car mag therapy and settled in for a read. No rocks, no stones. Just motors, engines, racing cars, metalworks. YES.
Jeeeeeeez!!!! Herrick’s been at it again, the bas***d! Leave the doll alone!
Bill Wyman!!!! Rock and Rolling Stoner!!! And to rub it in,…. its all about a Citroen SM.
I’m off to get therapy.
In the words of the immortal Oates, “I may be gone some time”.
(Of course, we now know that Oates actually did a runner. Scott snored like a sea elephant and smelt like one by then, but worse he farted all the time in the tent, so Oatesy legged it outa there and hooked up with Shakletons leftovers. Last seen chinning down a few whiskys at the Whalers Arms in Lyttleton)
So don’t wait up! (Just click the ‘follow’ button on the top left of front page and you’ll get a notice when a new one posts.)
Ciao for now