Twomey or not Twomey

Last Sunday evening President Macron appeared on TV announcing the latest changes to the lockdown regulations. As of Monday (the following day), all bars and restaurants would reopen again, including in Paris, where only terraces had been able to get back in business. All travel into European countries would again be allowed. That means everyone will be able to move freely inside Europe without having to show a valid international travel certificate. Quarantine rules would still apply for the UK. All schools will reopen from June 22nd, and attending school will be mandatory for all pupils in crèchesécoles (elementary and primary school), and collèges (secondary school).

In July the government will reveal plans for a significant restructuring of the economy, targeting in particular industries that have been hit hardest by the coronavirus outbreak; aeronautics, the automobile industry, tourism, culture, catering, and hotels.

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On Monday morning, the big news in the local paper is that McDonald’s are planning to open in the town centre, on the recently vacated Orange Téléphone site. This is right next to the Tour Maubergeon with its statue of Jeanne d’Arc. It’s difficult to think of a more inappropriate spot in the city centre for a fast-food joint, particularly when there are a number of very good French restaurants and cafés nearby. A petition has been started and has already garnered over 2,000 signatures, including mine and Madame’s. I am prepared to go further and stage a sponsored eat-in, where I will consume as many as possible of the delicious home-made burgers (100% boeuf Charolais) at Le P’tit Grillé in Rue de la Regratterie.

In the afternoon I get a phone call from Twomey, reminding me that the next day is Bloomsday (the day celebrating the events in James Joyce’s Ulysses, all of which take place on one day, 16th June 1904). He suggests that we mark the occasion by meeting for a pint of Guinness in Cluricaume. I agree but am a little uneasy. I mentioned last week that Twomey and I meet for the occasional drink. This is true to the extent that we meet from time to time, usually to celebrate some event or other, but on these occasions, drink, in the singular, can be something of an understatement.

The last such occurrence was on 26th January, Australia Day. Twomey told me that one of his great-grandparents was Australian, and invited me to join him at the Wallaby’s sports bar near Place Leclerc. Here we took advantage of their two-hour-long Happy Hour to consume several pints of Castlemaine lager with Bundaberg rum chasers. Eventually I managed to get away, leaving Twomey vainly trying to get the bewildered locals to join in a chorus of ‘Waltzing Matilda’. Some weeks later, when I mentioned his Australian ancestry, he looked completely baffled.

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On Tuesday afternoon I went to Le Biblio Café. Now that things are slowly getting back to normal, I have resumed my weekly French lesson with our friend Maryse. We have started working on some of my blog pages with a view to producing them in French. Progress is slow, but she is very patient. Nevertheless, I think it is a relief for both of us when our agreed hour is up and we can reward ourselves with une biére at the end of the lesson.

On the way home my phone rings, and it is Twomey again. He tells me he’s had to go to Montmorillon unexpectedly on business and will not be able to make our evening rendezvous. I tell him that this is not a problem and that we can meet up some other time. He starts to say something, but I suddenly hear a woman shouting loudly in the background and what sounds like crockery breaking. He tells me he will call me again later and hangs up. Most odd.

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Another sign that things are returning to normal is that my Pilates classes have restarted on Thursday mornings at Studio Équilibre on Boulevard du Grand Cerf. I began these back in November because of a problem with my hip, and they have definitely helped. There are usually about six or seven of us in the group led by our tutor, Sandra. Being an English speaker, I am obviously something of a novelty, and they all enjoy it when Sandra adds the odd instruction in English, or better still when she has to ask me to translate a word. This week everyone found it hysterically funny that the English for nombril is belly button.

The exercises are enjoyable, and there is more than enough time to reflect on the various twists and turns in life that have led to my lying on a mat, surrounded by a bunch of elderly French men and women, all of us with our legs in the air pedalling imaginary bicycles.

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One of my favourite buildings in Poitiers is the Post Office. The camera on my new phone has given me a chance to get a much closer look at it.

Dick Turpin

I’m slowly getting used to wearing my mask in public. Their use is now compulsory in many shops, and one is obliged to wear them when entering bars and restaurants, although they can be removed once you are seated.

Shop and restaurant staff tend to wear disposable masks, as they need to change then regularly, and many members of the general public also seem to favour this type. One unfortunate result of this is that you increasingly see discarded masks lying in the street. More worryingly, the French government has ordered two billion of these disposable masks for public sector workers, and there is growing concern about the fact that they are made of polypropylene and are not biodegradable.

We were sent some washable masks by the council, but these need tying behind your head and are a bit fiddly so we bought some that you can just hook over your ears. They came in two colours; I took the black one, leaving madame the white.  We make an odd couple walking down the street – like Dick Turpin and a State Registered Nurse.

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Tuesday: Entering a shop, I stop to put on my mask and somehow in doing so I manage to knock off my glasses, which land on the pavement and end up with a crack in one of the lenses. Not so much Dick Turpin now, more the old lady on the Odessa Steps in Battleship Potemkin. They are wearable, but I will get a new pair as soon as I can get an ophthalmologist appointment – not that easy, as there is currently a national shortage of them. I will probably need to go to nearby Niort or Angoulême – both a train ride away.

Sod it, sod it, sod it!

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I bumped into Mr Twomey on Wednesday evening in the Cluricaume. He used to work with the British Council in Paris and is now retired. Lives near the station. It would be overstating it to say he’s a friend, but native English speakers are rare in Poitiers and we’ve got used to having the occasional pint together. I hadn’t seen him since before the lockdown, and he looked a little thinner. I wondered if he’d been ill.

‘Not at all dear boy. It’s my new regime. Want to know the secret? Sage and onion stuffing! Virtually living on the stuff. Found a little place in Montmorillon that sells it. Quite bizarre. Little Asian shop that I go to for vindaloo paste. And there it was, behind the chapatis and nan bread. Couldn’t believe my eyes. Paxo’s sage and onion stuffing! Add a spot of gravy – very tasty, nutritious and dirt cheap. Had it for lunch and dinner yesterday. Bit of flatulence but it’s a small price to pay. Can almost feel the pounds falling off.’

I could do with losing a little weight myself, and I thought of mentioning this to Madame, but she can’t stand Twomey so I’ll probably let it lie.

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The mayor of Chauvigny and Laurent Jalabert

Thursday. The French cyclist Laurent Jalabert is in nearby Chauvigny today to help promote the coming Tour de France. The event should have been in July but has been postponed till September. We will have two chances to see it. The 11th stage, a 167 km run from Châtelaillon-Plage to Poitiers, is on September 9th, and the following day they go from Chauvigny to Sarran Corrèze; at 218 km this is the longest stage of the Tour. We are awaiting the exact details of the route to work out where to go for the best view. It should be fun, but of course, wherever it is, there will probably just be a blur of coloured shirts and it will be over in a couple of minutes. I mean it’s not as if it’s real cycling – like crossing the USA or anything.

Near Fairplay Colorado, April 25th 2010

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Finally, spare a thought for our friend Véronique Dujardin, whom I mentioned in this blog a few weeks ago. Because of her pending operation, Véronique has been self-isolating since March 25th, and her only day out of her apartment since then was to attend a court hearing on May 28th. In this, Bayer Pharmaceuticals were appealing against the appointment of a panel of experts to investigate whether her brain tumours were the result of her having taken Bayer medication for twenty years.

Véronique has a hell of week ahead of her. She will be back in court on Tuesday to hear the result of the Bayer appeal. That same day she has a Covid19 test at the university hospital here in Poitiers. If that test shows no indication of the virus, she will then travel to a hospital in Tours on Thursday. On Friday, she will finally have the long-postponed two-hour operation to insert a titanium prosthesis into the orbit of her left eye to reduce the pressure from a tumour.  

Véronique

We wish her well