Three Minutes Slow
Over the last month or so, I've had plenty of opportunities to return to Josselin for the day.
I've got clients there and have also had to visit Helga's House of Pain (as the abattoir where I used to work is commonly known!), to sort out my redundancy stuff.
The Green Beastie (my car), and I have been clocking up the miles (or, should that be... kilometers) and, so far, we not managed to kill anyone. Give it time?
One of the things that I've noticed about Josselin is that the Church Clock is always three minutes slow.
I think I probably realised that when I was living there but it never occured to me that perhaps it is entirely right that the clocks are slow.
You see, Josselin (and much of Brittany, I suspect) is the sort of place where time doesn't really matter that much.
When minutes matter more than people, and when you haven't got time to stop and chat, mean that either you've got the whole concept of life (the universe and everything), slightly wrong or... You're still living in the U.K.
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Another thing that I've noticed on my frequent visits back is that someone has pulled the plug out of the canal!
If I'd still been living there, I probably would have spent a lot of time discussing this.
Things change slowly in Josselin but, when they do, we do like to have a natter about it.... over and over again.
I think that this is what really defines rural French life; that we enjoy the Soap Opera that is going on all around us rather than have to rely on Eastenders (and the like), that get piped to us on TV.
Apparently the canal has been drained so that maintenance work can be performed.
What I want to know is... Where has the water gone?
I know that the water that was there has drained out to sea but, what about the water that would normally flow into the canal from further upstream?
Are there whole communities, in upper Morbihan, under water - just so that we can do some spring cleaning? And, if so, why wasn't I told? I could have made a fortune as a snorkel salesman!
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One other thought did come to my mind whlist I was surveying what's left of the canal.
The Girlie, Josh and I paid over 110 € to buy fishing licenses just so that we could feast on nature's bounty.
Alright, cringe you might but, bleak and gudgeon, quickly fried with shallots are beautiful - a bit like grown up whitebait! It's just that eating coarse river fish just isn't the done thing in the U.K.
However, once the water was taken away I had the answer as to why our fishing expeditions were always so spectacularly unsuccessful!
There are no bloody fish! And probably never were in the first place!
I am developing a theory that there is just one fish... somebody's pet.
And that fish gets lent out to friends (for a small fee or, more likely, a glass of Ricard) so that those friends can be photographed catching the poor thing.
I've not seen any notices advertising this service but, a lot of life in rural Brittany is like that - if you were born here, you were born knowing these things.
If you have moved here from another country, you'll never know (or, at least, never understand), no matter how long you've been here nor how hard you try.
At the moment this theory is still in the crop circles/X Files stage.
I don't have any conclusive proof but I am sure that I am right, anyway.
In a way, I feel like Columbus trying to prove that the world is round. I wonder if they'll put up a statue to me when I've proven my theory beyond a doubt?
But, be assured; as soon as I can publish an absolute proof of my theory, you'll be able to read about it here!
And, on that note, I'll leave you. I got work to get on with (as I'm sure you have), and anyway, it's far too nice a day to be stuck in front of a computer.
All the best....
Keith
P.S. I was almost tempted not to say anything about Spurs being fourth from top of the Premier League (I can't actually ever remember us being so high up), and through to the quarter finals of the Carling Cup - on the grounds that it might jinx us. Come to think about it, it probably will jinx us and then it'll all be my fault - so, please forget I mentioned anything.
P.P.S. I've just realised that we've got Arsenal (at the Emirates, no less) next Saturday and we haven't beaten The Gooners for 10 years (home or away), so... I guess our descent down to more familiar territory (at the bottom of the table), is about to begin!
P.P.P.S. "'ow you say, over 'ere... You can take the boy out of London but, you can't take London out of the boy!"
