On things found in showers…

A favourite haunt in Brittany

My morning thus far has been shocking, disconcerting, horrifying and a few other useful words in the same vein.  So I'm writing a letter of complaint to the Mayor.

            Monsieur Le Maire, Je proteste…

I began, but then found I could not continue because my French failed me.  So I decided to continue in English and translate later when I was absolutely certain of my sentiments, comments and helpful suggestions.

            My brother, James, and I have been camping for many years now and I am afraid I have to tell you that, as pleasant as your campsite is, you have the wrong trees.  I appreciate only too well that this will come as a great shock to you as those trees have clearly been there so long that they probably have a preservation order.  They are maple, Monsieur, and therefore completely the wrong trees.  Ask your wife.  Would she hang out washing under maple trees?  Of course she wouldn't.  Who wants to wear clothes reeking of waffles and syrup?

I suggested he replace them with good old English Oak.  I moved onto the more delicate subject of the sanitary block and its inhabitants…I had to scribble this next section in a whisper to save my embarrassment.

Grand Rue

            At 7.37 precisely this morning I walked into the shower block only to find - and I must steel myself to say this, Monsieur - a very large Dutchman in his underpants and slippers getting shaved at a washbasin.  Naturally I averted my eyes and rushed through to my shower - third one on the left.  You really must have a word with that camper's wife.  One, such a sight is quite definitely to be reserved for wives and mistresses; two, she needs to buy better washing powder as those underpants were grey and not the white I always achieve; three, he was of an age to know better, over-confidant and over-my-dead-body as a pin-up.

Of course, that distressing little incident led me onto the plumbing and the…umm unfortunate death that occurred.

            I am very sorry to have to tell you, Monsieur, that your plumbing is positively Napoleonic.  And the noises emanating from the cistern whilst I was showering can only be described as Josephine.  For a single lady of my advancing years such an experience is most unsettling.  May I suggest that you have your plumbing looked at urgently? 

The chateau

            Lastly, I must confess to a very unfortunate death on the campsite.  Having showered, and assured myself that the Dutchman had left I went to the communal washbasins to clean my teeth.  One of your basins was inhabited by an enormous black beetle.  In an effort to put the poor creature out of its misery I put the plug in the sink and switched on the tap in the hope that it would float to the top and walk away.  Meanwhile I used the only other basin available.  When I next looked over to the beetle I found him on his back immobile.  I had mistakenly switched on the hot tap and boiled him.  I do apologise for this terrible error, but you have the taps the wrong way round.  I further suggest your plumber addresses this too.

vos amis Anglais

James et Moi