Sinister Servant

I took this picture in a small village pub, where they hold the Scarecrow Festival. It's a really bland looking place inside, but apparently they make a great Sunday roast and they are known to make great parties for Halloween and other holidays. I never managed to convince my wife and child to stop there for a drink. Last time, we bought snacks and went our merry way (on the Scarecrow Trail, but I digress). Well, I took a picture of this sinister man, who looks like he got right off a Gothic novel or a Hammer film. I was blogging recently about human servants of supernatural forces in horror stories, although in this case I don't think he is quite human. He could be a ghoul or a ghost. I saw him, or maybe one of his relatives, in a garden centre back in 2018. Both figures bear an uncanny resemblance. I strongly suspect he/it is a ghoul. When Wolfie was a toddler, he was terrified of this servant. I think he is still scared of him, hence his refusal to stay in the pub any longer than necessary, even though it's children friendly. I want to write a story about this sinister figure one day.

Ghosts In the Pub

For today's countdown to Halloween post, a British classic, inspired by the sight of a Halloween decoration. So I was walking down town a few days ago and I saw this ghost at a pub's entrance. Okay, so it's not a real ghost and the pub is most likely not haunted, but it was cool to see all the same. Maybe it was just a regular punter who had one drink too many ("Kids, that's what alcohol does to you!"). No, but more seriously, I always thought pubs were great settings for ghost stories. Obviously, they were the starting point of many of them, especially after a few pints. But ethylic hallucinations aside, the pub being the place of gathering of locals, as well as a place of discovery for visitors, full of dark corners and centuries old dramas, it's no wonder haunted pubs are still nowadays a source of attraction. I even been in a few. I hope one day to write a scary story set in a pub.

Frankenstein's Creature in a Pub

For today's countdown to Halloween post, I wanted to blog about a horror classic. It's not Halloween without this icon. You know who I'm talking about? I took this picture at The Grand Assembly, a Wetherspoon pub in the little town of Marlow. We didn't stop there for a drink, it was too crowded, but I saw this grandfather clock and took the time (ha, ha, ha!) to take this picture. You might need to increase the image to see the display in the clock, but you can see Frankenstein's monster, alone in nature. Even from the back, you can recognise him from his frame. As you may know, Mary Shelley lived in Marlow for a little while, a year or so, and this is where she finished writing Frankenstein. In fact, the pub is less than a five minutes walk away from her residence in the town. So it's a fitting display. Marlow is a place of pilgrimage for every fan of the novel, or indeed any fan of Gothic horror. especially, I'd add, in the weeks leading to Halloween.

Gâteaux

 Photo prise il y a plus d'un mois, en avril, lors de la réunion familiale chez la cousine de ma femme. C'était dans un pub de village. Nous célébrions deux choses: 1)les cinquante ans de la cousine et 2)son second mariage. Il y avait donc deux gâteaux: un à la mangue et un autre au Biscoff ou au caramel (ou les deux?), je ne sais plus trop. J'ai essayé de ne pas trop exagérer, j'ai eu un morceau de chaque et c'était délicieux.

Farewell to a local pub

Well, this is not good news: one of the local pubs has been put on the market. My wife actually knows the wife of the landlord. It's not a very old pub, in fact it changed ownership and name a few times since we moved here. And it's not my favourite pub, mostly because I seldom visit it. Still, every time I've been there for a pint I enjoyed it. I tend to prefer smaller pubs, but this one looked nice enough and was generally quiet. Maybe it didn't have enough customers? I hope it doesn't get replaced by a big chain.

Trois alpacas

J'ai déjà blogué il n'y a pas longtemps sur un élevage d'alpacas près d'un pub, dans un coin perdu de la campagne anglaise. Ils avaient été le clou de la soirée pour mon fils. J'ai pris cette autre photo, où l'on voit les trois alpacas. Je crois qu'il y en avait trois ou quatre, comme les trois mousquetaires (qui étaient aussi quatre).

George and the Dragon

Happy Saint George's Day everyone! Saint George is of course patron saint of England, even though he was not English and never set foot here. He is also and especially famous for slaying a dragon, which makes it all the more interesting for those, like me, who love old legends and monsters. Anyway, him being patron saint of England means that a lot of pubs here are named George and Dragon. It gave them a nice name, if nothing else. I took this picture in one, the George and Dragon in Marlow. I could make it a yearly tradition: put a picture of a pub called George and Dragon every 23rd of April. Preferably a different pub every time. This is a nice image, the dragon looks bat-like and demomic, interestingly enough.

Pickled Eggs

We went to a pub last weekend, for a celebration on my wife's side of the family. Two in one, actually: her cousin's birthday and her cousin's wedding. Reception was held in a country pub. I was happily surprised to see that they had pickled eggs, something I hadn't seen in decades. I used to enjoy them a lot as a kid, they made for an easy lunch. Eaten as a snack with a beer on the side, they're even better. Last time I had some was about fifteen years ago, in a local pub that has since changed ownership and completely revamped itself into something more modern. You can guess that the pickled eggs went the way of the dodo eggs there. So long story short, I was so glad to find a pub that still serves them. Of course I had to do the full experience, so I ordered one with a beer. My wife was grossed out. But it really tasted delicious, just like I remembered. And you, ever tried pickled eggs? What do you think of them? Tell me in the comments.

Les alpacas

 Nous sommes allés à une réunion familiale du côté de ma femme (bien entendu), une de ses cousines fêtait son anniversaire ainsi que son mariage. La réception était dans un pub au milieu de nulle part, mais plein de charme, avec pas loin un élevage d'alpacas (ou alpagas, mais je n'utilise jamais le terme "alpaga"). C'est la première chose que Wolfie a voulu voir, les alpacas, dès notre arrivée. Ils n'étaient pas trop timides, ils doivent recevoir pas mal de visiteurs, j'ai donc pu prendre quelques photos.

Sunday Roast In the Pub

Two Sundays ago, after a friend informed me that we could walk to a country pub from our house, we did just that. We walked from our home, into the nearby woods and we walked to a country pub in a nearby village. It used to be one of our favourite pubs, before we became parents, but since then it had shut down, had new owners and we hadn't had the chance to go and eat there. Of course I had a Sunday roast. The first one I had in a long while. In fact, I can't remember the last time I ate one. It was long overdue. As you can see on this picture, I didn't stay hungry. And there is not many things as rewarding as talking a walk and then having a hearty meal in a country pub.

Taureau hispanique

Parfois, voyager quelque part nous permet aussi de s'imaginer ailleurs. Ainsi donc, j'ai pris cette photo aux Roman Baths de York. Apparemment, la neuvième légion (est-ce que ça ne devrait pas s'écrire IX, d'ailleurs?) a déjà été en Espagne, ou plutôt en Hispanie. Moi je n'y ai jamais mis les pieds. Je sais que ce n'est pas une affiche authentique, mais j'aime bien l'image quand même, ça fait un peu exotique, même si les chiffres romains ne sont pas exacts. De l'Hispanie jusqu'à York, c'est un long voyage, en tout cas ce l'était à l'époque de l'Empire romain. 

Goddess Fortuna

I took this picture at the Roman Baths in York. If you want to celebrate Easter in an English city, York might actually be the best one, because of its history with the Roman Empire. And let's face it, who does not associate Easter with Ancient Rome somehow? I know I do. The Romans are both the villains of the Biblical story (or at least often depicted as such) and the originators of many of the Pagan elements of Easter. Anyway, you can find in York's Roman Baths a shrine to Fortuna, the goddess of luck and fortune. You could make an offering of 30p, which we did. Hey, you never know! No but more seriously, seeing this shrine made me feel like in another time altogether, both familiar and exotic.

A Praise Of Our Neighbourhood

Yesterday, I went to my writing workshop. It was a great time, but this is not what I wanted to blog about. As it was in a different place as usual, I got a lift from some of my fellow writers. After the fairly short journey from my house to our host's house, my lift told me that he really liked my neighbourhood. At the end of a quiet road with lots of trees, surrounded by them in fact, he really thought it was a great place, just far enough from the centre. Oh, and from a walking distance of a country pub he likes. I knew of the pub, I had been there a few times, but didn't know it was from a walking distance from us. Good to know. I never thought someone would say this of our neighbourhood, which we always thought wa slower middle class at best, so it felt good to hear it.

The Violin Thief

 I blogged last year about the theft of a 285-year-old violin worth £150,000 in a London pub. Well, there has been some development to the story since the man was arrested: he has been charged with theft. It was about time. As a music lover, the stealing of a rare and ancient musical instrument is to me both morally and aesthetically repellent. Hell, you could argue it is a crime against our civilisation's memory. That said, it could be the subject of a great crime story. Everything about it makes for a great drama. An atmospheric one too: he stole the violin in a London pub, after all. I'm sure there is a scriptweriter working on it at the moment. I'm kind of tempted to try my luck at it and write a short story on the subject.

Paddy for Saint Paddy's

 I went to a local pub today for a drink and more to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day. There was only one pub somewhat decorated for the day, so I went in that one. I asked if they had any Irish whiskey to go with my pint of Guinness. They had one: Paddy. The barman was enthusiastic about giving me some, I mean he was surprisingly really happy about it, as if I was the one keeping tradition alive or something. So I had some. End of the story. But I have another anecdote about today: I did really well at work today. Like, really well. So my wife said: "Today you truly had the luck of the Irish." Which deserves to be a great unknown line.

Une souche de chêne

 J'ai pris cette photo l'an dernier, lorsque nous étions à la réception d'un mariage, au début d'avril. C'était dans le jardin d'un pub, qui hélas n'existe plus. Il a fermé quelques mois plus tard. Vous l'avez sans doute vue avant sur ce blogue, je prenais la souche en photo à chaque fois que j'allais au pub. Avec les années, elle a pris un coup de vieux, sa base se brisant en miettes. Un peu comme ce qui est arrivé à l'établissement lui-même: il a cessé d'attirer du monde. J'espère qu'il va rouvrir un jour.

The Keys in the Tower

 I took this picture in the Tower of London last week. What you see here is the ensign of The Keys, which is the pub for the staff living in the Tower, among them the Yeomen Warders, also known as the Beefeaters. Well, it's not technically a pub, as it is not open to the public (what a shame), in fact its true name is the Yeoman Warders Club, it is in all practicality a pub for the people living there. And I think it's kind of cool that there is a boozer in the Tower.

The Marlow Donkey (the railway line)

I took this picture in one of our latest trips to Marlow. Before the Marlow Donkey was a pub near the train station, which was bigger than the one they have now, it was the affectionate nickname given to the branch line. I love all things trains and their history, big or small, so I wanted to share it here. If you increase the image, you might be able to read about the line's history.

The Violin Theft

Here's a bit of crime news I found out recently, which both shocked and fascinated me: a man was arrested for the theft of a £150,000 violin. First thing to say: wow! That is one expensive violin. To be honest, its value is not exactly surprising. There are expensive musical instruments out there, artifacts from another time still in working condition.This one is from the 18th century. It's just the sheer audacity of stealing a musical instrument that I find morally repellent to the extreme. It's one of the worst kind of thefts I can think of. Unfortunately, the violin has not been recovered as I am typing this. On another note, this could make for a great starting point for a crime novel. It already did, sort of, I mean I read one crime novel featuring a stolen violin. If you want to know which one check this link (otherwise: spoiler alert). And the theft happened in a London pub, because of course it did. So please keep your eyes open. Probably your ears too. I hope they find the violin.

The Garden Bar, London

As you probably know if , today is Saint John the Baptist's Day, also known as the Nationale Day, or Fête nationale of Quebeckers. You will forgive me if I do not spend much time blogging in English today, but I wanted to plug one London pub, which has been very welcoming to Québec expats like me: the Garden Bar. Every year, the DGQL organises a celebration for Québécois living in the UK and their families and it is the Garden bar that has been hosting it. It has been the case these last two years in any case. They even serve poutine for the occasion and it is a pretty decent one. I blogged about it last year and again this year. Don't think you'll find this item on their menu on a normal day. Nevertheless, as they have been welcoming to us on an important day, I thought I would say a good word about the Garden Bar here.