Thursday, 24 July 2008

24/07/08: Get Up & Go

Last night a number of things worth noting happened. We went into Ceret and watched an “American” band (One man was American, although is now technically a Parisian – fluent in the language, but still has an accent – whereas his band mates were all from originally France – yet sing with American accents, as it seems a lot of French do, when singing in English anyway). I walked home before they finished, they were playing in front of a bank at 11 pm to a near-desolate café where no one really gave a damn. By the sounds of things, that was the sort of audience they were doomed to play for ever. They made me laugh. Occasionally, a polite audience member would shout out a request. One man shouted, “Johnny Cash”. “Non!” the frontman retorted. “As much as we love Cash, we only play our own songs!” The band then began a song that blatantly ripped off Sweet Home Alabama (the guitar part – ironically, the most recognisable part of Sweet Home Alabama – was identical; solo, bridge, and all).

After being subjected to their sound, I retired to our house and continued to read my book. I did this until my parents returned merely ten minutes later. My Dad uploaded the photos from his camera onto the laptop, and I did the same after him. However, I still had the photos from the day before on my camera. I deleted them ‘permanently’. To my despair, amongst them were half of the current day’s photos. I was half-asleep and had no idea at first. Some of them were really good to. How frustrating.

I then went to bed where I continue to read my book. I was determined to finish my current chapter before settling down. During which, at 00h 36, the house shook for a second or two. I was even nearer to falling asleep at this point than when I had been when I disposed of half my arsenal of photographs and thought nothing of it.

The next morning we went to Perpignan for the day (more like half of it). All the newspaper stalls had posters with statements (in French, of course) about ‘the night the earth moved’, etc. Without realising it, I sat through another earthquake thanks to my late night reading habits. I say ‘another’ because the exact same thing happened a few months ago during my GCSE exams. At around one or two in the morning there was a very large earthquake (for north east England at least) that lasted eight or so seconds. The majority of my friends slept through it, except me as I was enthralled in reading Catcher in the Rye.



Perpignan was good. We had a general wander around the city. Many of the shops were the same. There was one main shopping centre of interest that we visited the other day – Fnac – but all the other shops either sold souvenirs or were unremarkable ‘boutiques’. There were hundreds of these little clothes shops that lined street after street in a city centre similar to some vast labyrinth-esque rabbit warren. The temperature soared over lunchtime and it became far too hot to just wander around. We were needing a bottle of water every ten minutes. It was crazy! We then returned to the car and drove back to Ceret along the ‘scenic’ coastal route in what turned into a tedious and mostly unsuccessful ‘beach crawl’.




Once back in Ceret we had dinner and I continued to read. While digesting our meal outside in the garden, I was horrified by the sight of three mosquitoes feasting on my arms. This sent me quickly inside where I started this blog.

Tomorrow is our last day in Ceret. We plan to spend the day slowly packing our bags, or so says Mum. On Saturday we travel into Spain and will do either one of two things.

1) Drive into Barcelona, which is an hours drive from our hotel
2) Or visit the Salvador Dali museum nearby.

I would prefer to go into Barcelona, but we shall see what happens. On Sunday we drive back to Girona for 11:30am to catch our flight two hours later. Then Sheila, our North Ferribian friend, will pick us up in Dad’s car and take us back home. The whole journey (including flight time, excluding waiting time) should only take 2 – 2½ hours. Usually it takes six hours just to get down to Dover! Hopefully we will fly to our holiday destinations more often rather than the usual two-day journey we have suffered every year for the past decade and a half (longer than I can remember). Though the number of family holidays I have to endure before I leave to face the world on my own is numbered.

I say this all now as I doubt I’ll have time / bother to write another blog before reaching home.

See you Sunday evening!

x

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