“Ils ont commande une bouteille de rouge et puis… immediatement… un grand pichet de blanc!” our nervous waiter reported to his colleague as we installed ourselves on a table overlooking the river into which, 5 hours later, I would be vomiting like a first-year student.
We eventually staggered home at 2ish (via a random Of Montreal gig) bellowing tunes from the Nutcracker across the sleeping town. Classic Brits Abroad.
Next day we headed to Lille where our hotel had a most charming old-fashioned wooden lift. In a bid to amuse ourselves at the expense of the surly proprietor – who clearly thought we were unwelcome bottomistes – BP struck camp poses in this lift while I snapped him at various angles with my phone. The Gallic tut this prompted from M. le Patron was pretty special.And then back in time for flatmate’s gig in Camden last night. Not at all the head-clearing break I needed, but neanmoins un plaisir!
Plenty more gags to report from the weekend but will have to wait till I've recovered.
3 comments:
you were sick in the Somme? classy ;)
Oooh I do like a good tut. takes years of practice you know.
At the right moment, sure!
But I found myself tutting at a slow-waddle tube commuter this morning and nearly slapped myself - i hate it when people do that.
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