Tag Archives: Moment of silence

Remembrance Sunday

10 Nov

 

France, Day 3: Poppies Are For Remembrance

17 Nov

I started the day by giggling with Viv in bed again.  It was my favourite part of the holiday.

Viv suggested we write a collaborative poem, a renga.  The theme was obvious: it was Remembrance Day in Britain.  The French celebrate on 6 June as well as 11 November, I learned.  See more here.

Here is the view from Viv’s house:

In one of those fields, on 6 June, 1944, a plane came down, killing all the RAF airmen on board.  The people of Viv’s village erected a memorial to them, at the end of Viv’s road.  The memorial is kept clean and tidy.  Unlike so many British memorials, there is no graffiti, no urinating, no defacing of it.  Viv and Jock took us down just before eleven and we waited for the bell to ring out in the distance, from the village, then laid our poppy and kept the two minute silence.  The Hub and I feel that to be in France on Remembrance Day was both special and moving.  It was an honour.

Viv and Jock then took us out to lunch in Granville, to their favourite restaurant.  I do like to be beside the seaside!  The view was excellent and the food superb.  The French waiters were not the condescending snoots of tv legend, but were patient, helpful and efficient.  The restaurant was small but charming – and full.  The French eat well and linger over their meals: a civilised habit I am going to acquire.  They also take their Yorkshire Terriers along; I like that habit too, as do my own Yorkies, Molly and Toby, I’m sure.  The dog was as well behaved as the many children in the restaurant.  We wouldn’t have noticed them if they hadn’t been pointed out to us as models of how children should behave in a restaurant.  We Brits could learn a lot by taking regular holidays in France.

The food was delicious but you’ll have to go over to Viv’s blog for pictures – once again, I preferred eating to snapshotting.  I had a starter of bacon and lettuce, a main of cod and veg, and vanilla ice cream for afters.  It sounds much more exotic in French and, believe me, it tastes it, too.  I ordered my own dessert: Coupe deux boules; vanille.  Aren’t I clever?  It only took an hour to learn.

We walked lunch off with a stroll around the lovely town of Granville.  We saw a corsair, whose fascinating story you can read at Viv’s blog.  Then it was home again, with afternoon naps for Viv and the Hub (in separate rooms) and a guided tour of the garden for me from Jock.  We had a late, light dinner of quiche and salad but there was room for leftover cake & tart, of course.

I am not a great wine drinker, but that is because I don’t have access to great wine.  I enjoyed a glass with every meal in France (except breakfast; I’m not a lush) and it is possible I have acquired yet another French habit.  Time will tell.  Hic.

 

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