Paris Trip 2013

Today I noticed that my domesticated wild daffodils are beginning to flower. As you all know I'm almost back in my bar so 3 days ago I decided to have a last fling and drive to Paris. I put 38euros worth of petrol in my old car thinking correctly that a vehicule that can get me to the Algarve in the south of Portugal can get me there no problem, and hoping that it would be enough because my budget was very tight with a limited amount of money at hand, but not to worry because the little amount spent would be reimbursed on opening day of the pub, whether provisional or official. This may be my last chance to meet old friends who follow rugby but who don't visit Brittany, I expect that after 3 years of unemployment I will be at the bar till I drop. I drove through the centre of Brittany, I could have gone through Saint Brieuc but I chose Loudeac, the roads converge near Saint Méen le Grand anyway and continue to the motorway tollgate on approaching Laval where I got my ticket at the entrance to show at the exit, it rained all the way and in some places there was fog. At the end near Paris I put the ticket in the machine to calculate the kilometers travelled followed by my bank card; with a queue building behind me my card was refused, strange because I'd already used it to fill my tank with petrol, a lady came across, looked at it, and told me that my type of card was not accepted with no further explanation. I drove on to Paris driving around with my petrol tank emptying trying to find a free parking space, impossible, I didn't want to waste my money nor time nor petrol so I ended up taking a risk, which got me a parking ticket and a 35euros fine to pay later instead of a 26euros parking fee to pay straightaway. I parked near the Eiffel Tower that meant my crossing the Seine (took four tourist photos from the bridge and one at the tower)to catch the Metro leading to my destination, Corcoran's Irish bar, just a little way from the Place de Clichy station, knowing that I'd meet up with the people and the ambiance I was searching. I totally upset my timetable & my budget but it was worth it, I met friends of friends from my next street, and from Rhymney, friends of Mogsy of MTRFC & The (in)famous Wyndham Arms on Glebeland St. who introduced me to Coombes the new forward from Merthyr's father, others introduced me to Robert Jones a former Welsh scrum half. Great atmosphere, it was an Irish pub but behind the bar there was an Argentinian, Bulgarian, Englishman and the Dutch barman who was working there the last time I visited, who shook my hand before I left telling me he was happy to see me again. Before I got back there on the saturday I lost my way after the Arc de Triomphe while time was getting on, I stopped the car to ask someone and it couldn't have been more simple; drive to the peripheral road, continue to the Porte de Clichy, turn off and straight on to Place de Clichy where I parked my car in a multi-story before rejoining the pub with a little time to spare. I drank with the earlier crowd from Rhymney, a couple who were cousins to Philip Joll the opera singer from Cyfarthfa School & Gellifaelog Tce and Robert his brother an ex policeman who went to the same sunday school as I did, big friends of Philip Beynon, cousin of Jane, who married my friend Malcolm, and Alan who used to unmercifully bully him in school, and if I remember rightly whose father died in the Aberfan disaster, and uncle re-established Merthyr Rugby Club after the war. I watched the match and went through the emotions, until the referee blew for the end of the match (incredibly we'd won in Paris after one of the worst records in our history of 8 straight defeats), in a round with a group of boys, 3 of whom were Parisians, the fourth was an ex-college international from Ferryside who played in the same side as a young James Hook, went to Paris as a chef, married a Finnish dancer working at the Moulin Rouge, had their first child in Finland and are now both back working in Paris. I met a man with his wife at the bar who worked for a year in Lloyd's Bank, Merthyr, before I left I paid with my card. Sunday I left the multi-story car park, ticket followed by card, same principle as the toll but this time was successful. I drove up to Porte de Clichy on red where I knew there was a petrol station, ordered my petrol on the 24h pump, put in my card but it was refused. My petrol gauge was almost on red, I was on the outskirts of Paris sitting in my car in the snow in a nightmare situation not knowing what to do next, was it my card? because I paid with it in the pub and the car park, or was it because there was no more money in my account? Someone asked me if I was going to move off, I explained my situation, he wished me good luck, after I'd driven off to a bleak immediate future I realized that I could have made a cash exchange for the use of his card, but now it was too late. I'd taken a calculated risk but had I miscalculated? With a sickly feeling I drove on in a westerly direction only guessing I was on the right road, I was on the motorway with no sign for Rennes, there was one for Rouen, I wisely decided against, it was snowing, I could see myself stopping on the side of the road and hitch hiking in the snow with my petrol can in hand to the next services, I drove on with one eye constantly on the gauge scared of what might come about, until, I believe these things are sent to test us, I espied a petrol station up on the right; I left the motorway still not to sure what was going to happen, I filled my tank, as I was so doing a swarthy stranger came up to me and said "are you Bernard Walters", bloody hell I'm famous, even known here on the outskirts of Paris; oh no, there's been a serious accident in the family and the police are out looking for me; "this is your credit card, you dropped it." I gratefully took back my card, went inside to pay and mercifully this time it worked. I had a close look at it, it didn't look any different to any other card, but in small print it said 'ELECTRONIC USE ONLY'. I asked the way to Brittany, I was on the right road straight on, thank goodness for that, but the weather was filthy, snow in Paris, then sleet for a long way and rain & fog until almost in Brittany where it was night but clear, then against the odds I got lost again outside Rennes, taking the Lorient instead of the Brest/Saint Brieuc road, unbelievable, lost in the centre of Paris, lost on the way out, and now lost in Brittany, a country I know well, Unbelievable because the last time I went to Paris in my car it went off perfectly, without error. I drove around central Brittany, just avoiding an accident, clipping a roundabout I didn't see until the last moment, watching the petrol gauge descend until I saw a sign for Merdrignac knowing that the road would get me to Loudeac, Rostrenen, Carhaix and home to bed. Got out of bed today and saw the yellow buds of my wild daffodils. Although the whole journey was misjudged and potentially ill-judged it was however all well worth it. Now for the pub, beer pumps installation in the morning.