Sunday, 18 November 2007
Friday, 19 October 2007
Refugees from the Monkey Island
Migrants continue to flood the country, some of them barely speak French. Local people are unable to get hospital beds as english retirees cram the wards enjoying the wine, climate and health care they haven't paid for. In some villages there are hardly any french people left. Entering a busy cafe advertising steak hachette et frittes I shouldered my way past estate agents pinning up notices for fully renovated farm houses (Euro: 250,000) to the bar.
"Deux bier sil vous plaits"
"No problem mate, do you want any food?"
He explains his dad bought him the pub, the whole family has moved from West Yorkshire to rural France, "we're looking at build a driving range for golfers".
As fast as people are flooding into England to make money, the English are flooding out. Intoxicated with high property prices and post Thacherite-zeal we are fanning out through Europe. For years we've been decaying on the Costas, now we're silting up newly built Bulgarian beach resorts, buying up smack squats in Berlin and golf coursing over France.
"Deux bier sil vous plaits"
"No problem mate, do you want any food?"
He explains his dad bought him the pub, the whole family has moved from West Yorkshire to rural France, "we're looking at build a driving range for golfers".
As fast as people are flooding into England to make money, the English are flooding out. Intoxicated with high property prices and post Thacherite-zeal we are fanning out through Europe. For years we've been decaying on the Costas, now we're silting up newly built Bulgarian beach resorts, buying up smack squats in Berlin and golf coursing over France.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Mariacki Church, Rynek Główny, Krakow
Originally uploaded by Flytipper
The Christmas market had certainly been more intense than I had bargined for. My drinking and staying out late days have been well behind me for the last couple of years. The market itself is much like any other central European Christmas market. Tasteful toys, clothes and food sold from stalls. It was late Sunday afternoon and the throngs of people were what was causing me problems! Feeling distinctly ill I had to make my excuses and head back to the hotel, leaving B looking worried. Edging across the square I was almost sick on the shoes of a duo of patroling policemen. Halfway down Wiślna everything suddenly became more stable. "Pull yourself together" I told myself, "stiff upper lip", I marched back into the centre of Krakow.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
The first thing I felt, in the darkness, was a squelchy sickness in my stomach, pinning me in position. A fuzzy pain had descended on my head I could only think furtively beneath it's fog.
Through this gloom I remembered ordering margehrita late the previous night. There had been a look of disdain on barman's face. All around me were people ordering what looked like coctails, drinking coctails or slumbering over empty cocktail glasses. I thought I would fit in. They were drinking vodka, (with grapefruit). Asking for a full cocktail was bad form.
There had definately been dancing, I remembered being surrounded by techno and strobe lights. A vaguely quaint reminder of the mid nineties, made me feel young again. In the gloom surely nobody could see my grey hair. (Unless of course it was being picked out for all to see in some sort of club neon lighting).
By 2pm I had to get up, I'm only here for 2 days, spending one of them in bed was a total waste. Nausea came over me in waves in the tiled shower. I kept it together. A friend tells me to enjoy hangovers - they give you a different perspective on life. My perspective was now reduced to the scope of each step I took, each seemed harder than the last. We made it out of the hotel. Creeping to the corner of the street, keeping close to the wall. Had to slow down , I'm too old for this.
Through this gloom I remembered ordering margehrita late the previous night. There had been a look of disdain on barman's face. All around me were people ordering what looked like coctails, drinking coctails or slumbering over empty cocktail glasses. I thought I would fit in. They were drinking vodka, (with grapefruit). Asking for a full cocktail was bad form.
There had definately been dancing, I remembered being surrounded by techno and strobe lights. A vaguely quaint reminder of the mid nineties, made me feel young again. In the gloom surely nobody could see my grey hair. (Unless of course it was being picked out for all to see in some sort of club neon lighting).
By 2pm I had to get up, I'm only here for 2 days, spending one of them in bed was a total waste. Nausea came over me in waves in the tiled shower. I kept it together. A friend tells me to enjoy hangovers - they give you a different perspective on life. My perspective was now reduced to the scope of each step I took, each seemed harder than the last. We made it out of the hotel. Creeping to the corner of the street, keeping close to the wall. Had to slow down , I'm too old for this.
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