Whatever happened next?

 

12th of May.

I am relying heavily on my images here to jog what decaying brain cells I have and it appears that I must have happened upon a place clled the Brasserie du Mont Blanc where I had a few excellent beers. At least I thought that was what it was called when I visited but, as the attached hyperlink shows, it is actually the name of a brewery so I really am at a loss to tell you what the actual bar was called.  Sorry, folks, you will just have to discover it for yourself.  It really was turning into that kind of trip.

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Well, a quick check shows that the sole image for this day amount to precisely one, but at least it is a typical Fergy and so I shall move quickly on to the next day.

13th of May.

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The weather was still absolutely abysmal as the images show and as I have previously stated I had nothing in the way of foul weather gear. I love wearing denim and my jacket is a virtually permanent fixture but, great as it is, it is in no way practical. However, I had nothing else, and I recalled the words of my late maternal grandmother which were, “It’s only water, you won’t melt”! True enough.IMG_4859.JPG

I didn’t do much in the way of sightseeing in the awful conditions but I did get an image of a kiddies carousel unused in the rain which I might try and render into monchrome as I think it looks very melancholic.

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No, I was not melancholic myself although I started off that way on this trip but I do like those sorts of images.

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I di find a very funky little Vespa which you can see in the image above.

I also found a decent little bar which I shall describe more fully in a later entry which had not only a tremendous rare old French motor bike but, joy of all joys a “flipper” as it is called here i.e. a pinball machine. Again, full details to come later.

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Heading back to the excellent hostel I stumbled upon a group of young musicians (pictured) who were knocking out a mix of jazz, Latin and sundry other genres. They did not appear to be “busking” as such as I didn’t see anywhere to put money but they were really rather good so I spent a while watching them before I got fed up of the damp and headed back to the hostel for a few beers and then bed. I do like a hostel with it’s own bar!

I was rapidly falling in love with Lyon (I still am, to be honest) and I could feel in my bones I wasn’t going to move in the immediate future.  I didn’t and so, if you want to know what happens next, stay tuned and spread the word.

Another great day in another great city.

I did mention that the days had started to roll one into another when I was at Flaneur hostel and it would be terribly easy to spend quite a few months of your life there (and not overly expensive) in what is undoubtedly one of the best hostels I have ever stayed at.

I first hostelled in 1970 as a member of the Cub Scouts at the now closed and apparently now semi-derelict Learmont Castle hostel in the Sperrin mountains in Northern Ireland and over the years I have stayed in many of them. Approaching my bus pass in London (yes, I am that old) I still use them and thoroughly enjoy the experience.  The hyperlink I have attached is from a chap who styles himself “Lord Belmont” and writes the most brilliantly researched, not to mention hugely witty, blogs about Northern Ireland and beyond.  I really do recommend you have a look at some of his stuff, it really is worth a read and I do wish I could produce posts half as good.

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Breakfast of champions!

I am struggling to remember what happened on any particular day and relying on my admittedly limited images to assist. On this day, the images seem to indicate that I was up with the lark as I was having breakfast at about 0930 and feasting on some excellent French cheese, a French baguette and, naturally, a bottle of red wine. OK, I know, I know, but I like to do things like that so please don’t preach at me about my health.

 

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It would also appear to have been the day of the regular farmers  / produce market which was yet another indication of the very community spirit of the place which I did rather like.

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It seems almost superfluous to tell you that the weather was still absolutely abysmal.

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Not much else to relate really so I urge the reader to pass on to the next entry having browsed the images. What they do suggest to me is that I ended up in some random bar watching Ajax (Holland) hammering Lyon (the local side) in the football (soccer for my North American brethren (and sistren obviously)) and then eating a gorgeous meal which my images tell me was about 2100 at night, a much earlier hour than I normally eat if I do.

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It is bizarre that I can virtually taste that lamb shank and remember how good it was to this day, months later, but if you put a gun to my head I could not tell you where I had it which is an indication of how crazy this trip was getting and how appallingly disorganised I am about blogging it. Shame I’ll not be able to write a tip on the restaurant though.

I really should try harder to keep up.

Still plenty to see in lovely Lyon so stay tuned and spread the word.