you may know how many beans make five |
Where are we?
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m at
the beach. On the beach in fact and half in it, the wind is kicking up the sand
and it’s in my ears, in my hair and all over my feet.
As it should be! Are you also sticky with
salt water, fresh from the sea?
That I am.
Fascinating… but .. what I MEANT was - where are we in this
alphabetically progressive salute to an old post (editorial note T) that we have
been wittering on about for a while now? (editorial note t)
Oh, you don’t want to talk about the sun
down over the salt marshes then?
Did you see it? Wasn’t it radiant?
It glowed!
It shimmered!
Made you good to feel alive!
Made YOU book a table at the end of the
jetty for tonight I believe.
That’s true, so we’d better hurry and get
over there.
On the bike over the salt paths?
Past the flamingos.
What are you going to eat – the baked
oysters?
I’m hesitating…le poulet au croute de sel has
piqued my curiosity.
Can you say that?
Piqued? I don’t see why not; no little red
wiggly grammar thingy has popped up, like it has on poulet.
Ok, let’s leave that and return to the
matter at hand.
This glass of wine? Cuvée de l’étang? It
claims to be one of the oldest vineyards in the world – over é,§àà years old.
É,§àà?
Sorry, I thought I had the capitals lock on
– 2,600. It also claims to be “plantées sur un sol calcaire balayé par les
vents, bénéficiant de conditions climatiques de predilection et vous offrent
ici toute l’expression de ce massif riche de couleurs vives et de lumière.”
Strong and generous with hints of spice.
Sounds right up my alley, why didn’t you
translate all of it?
Predilection is throwing me, I need a
dictionary.
You don’t have a dictionary?
No, just a lot of sand and waves, and I’m
being swept by the wind back towards the sea.
No internet connection either?
No, not unless I cycle back to the old town
and the narrow streets at the foot of the castle and seek out the dark blue
painted door hung with the sign of Jim Hawkin’s Schooner.
So you can’t check the blog prior to me
having a word pop into my head to move this ‘alphabetically progressive salute
to an old post’ along one letter?
Pop away.
Sand. Obviously.
I’ll have look, this evening. Now it’s time
for a swim.
Also an s.
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