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.


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.


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.



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


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.


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.

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.




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.


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


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.


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.