Sometimes what can seem like a rather enjoyable pastime can seem to some of my mates to be rather, well, rather odd.
Talking to them about my pastime makes me feel like I have a secret vice. And really it is nothing of the sort. Just a harmless bit of fun, as far as I am concerned. Something that until last week I was quite happy to admit gave me happiness, delight, fun, joy, bliss, contentment.
In fact, I thought this little pleasure of mine was quite run-of-the-mill. To think that it is a secret vice! When in reality we aren’t like that at all. Well, not much.
Anyway, to explain:
Last Thursday, I was partaking of our regular weekly bar meal at the Old Cow when my partner, let slip the truth.
To give you the full picture, there’s six of us that do the meal once a week, just before the quiz night starts. (We are The Avengers largely because of my surname and the fact that my partner’s name is Emma – if that means nothing don’t worry, it’s not important).
So, anyway, I have cottage pie, peas and chips, and a pud, and then on we go to the questions.
It was during the pudding (mine’s a cheesecake) that the problem began. We were talking holidays, and Emma started to tell the gang about our recent coach trip to Paris.
And there was silence. I could see at once that our friends were stunned. Shocked one might say.
Eventually Sandra from across the road said, ‘With other people?’ And then for clarity added,’On a coach?’
Emma said yes, it was indeed a coach, and indeed there were others besides ourselves on the coach. There was more silence, until Sandra continued, ‘And was it – all right?’
So we confirmed that our fellow-travellers were indeed all right, and that the coach was really smooth, and with more leg room than your average plane. As I explained, we’d actually stayed in touch with one couple we’d got to know, and were following up on their recommendation for a trip to Austria.
‘By coach’ asked Sandra, her incredulity now reaching such proportions that she had actually put down her wine glass before it was empty. ‘With other people’
We agreed that this by and large summed up the situation. ‘And were they, all right?’
They were, we said once again, all right. We’d got chatting to them in a café by the Seine, after we’d had a trek round the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa.
‘Never had you down as a fan of fine art’ said Derek, Sandra’s man about the house.
‘Well’ I said, ‘you can’t be right outside and not go in and see the Mona Lisa can you? I just followed the guide to the painting, had a peek at the old girl and walked out again, picking up a leaflet just so I had some background – in case anyone asked’. ‘And did anyone ask?’ Sandra enquired.
I admitted no one had. ‘Anyway, after that we went to Disneyland Paris just for a bit of contrast.’
Just then the landlord rang an old ship’s bell that he has on the bar, which summoned us to the quiz. The Avengers rose as one (we’re good at that), and took our place at our regular quiz table. ‘Besides’ I said as we took our seats, ‘I rather like this sight-seeing lark. Being a tourist is good – it means you can talk to people and see the sights plus sit around doing nothing much when you feel like it.’ And then to make the point, just in case they hadn’t got it, I added, ‘Being a tourist is fun.’
‘Talk to people’ said Sandra, following her regular habit of taking one little phrase out of a sentence and repeating it as a question. Noticing at last that her glass was half empty, she quickly remedied the fact by making it completely empty.
‘People’ I confirmed. ‘Fellow travellers. Others who like to go and see places and do things.’
‘So where are you going next?’ asked Doug, watching Sandra with some alarm as she refuelled, and topped up, all seemingly in one movement.
‘After Austria, we’re thinking of Bruges and the Flemish speaking part of Belgium’
‘Isn’t that where Poirot comes from’ said Sandra, uncertainly.
‘No’ I told her, ‘he was French speaking.’
‘But what’ persisted Sandra, refusing to be put off the scent, ‘if you don’t like all these other people?’
‘Liking them isn’t obligatory,’ said Suzanne. ‘Some people like to stick together as a couple, some like to make new friends. Up to you.’
‘Oooh that sounds fun’ said Sandra.
‘And the beer’s cheap’ I told her.
‘Yes’ she said, ‘there is that.’
The question master for the evening called us to order. ‘Question 1’ he announced. We readied ourselves as a hush fell on the room. ‘What year was the Mona Lisa painted? And I will accept five years either way from the normally given dates.’
All eyes on my table turned to me. ‘Somewhere between 1503 and 1506 – according to the gallery’ I said writing 1504 on the card.
One nil to me I think.
Peter Peel
There are details of Peter’s coach trip to France on our website and details of his next trip to Belgium are here. Peter’s next post is due later this month
Image courtesy of flickr user Peggy2012CREATIVELENZ
Peter Peel’s Confessions of a Secret Tourist
