Chez Cesarine Holiday Diary

Market day at Plouha. Bought pair of Springfield shorts 90FF; very fetching in the colours of the Brazilian flag. The mademoiselle shop assistant was quite charming and suggested I should come back if they did not fit. I suspected that the presence of the impressive Changer Two currency converter helped to command that kind of respect. No real betting shops to speak of in Plouha. Henri had managed to do some reconnaissance and had found a Pari-Mutuel Urbaine café sports which theoretically combines the pleasures of a bar with a betting shop which is a great concept. However, the French Pari-Mutuel betting operates very much like the British Tote pool betting. No prices are shown for the runners and we found no television screens to provide updates on the fate of our chosen horse. Probably en route to the cheval burger factory - no chance of BSE there! The whole set-up was quite a disappointment and we were left to console ourselves with a lottery scratch card and a cup of café au lait on the pavement. We didn't win.

Evening meal indoors followed by cards, this time rummy and later yet more Grants 100. An all-encompassing discussion with Nige re. genocide, Criminal Justice Act, gypsies, computers, quinella system etc. etc.

By this stage of the holiday it was already evident that we had managed to establish people's all-important nicknames, viz., Nige - Nigel's Lad 10-1 (br g, errant jade, related to the useful miler G J Whitby, variously 100-1 outsider depending on going), Gavin - The Gaffer (derivation dubious but possibly because he wore a Bill Maynard-style hat and used to drive a mark two Rover). And for myself - Phantom Jogger, abbreviated to PJ, arising from my vocal intention to go jogging each morning a claim inspired by liberal intake of Grants 100 and which never materialised. However that did not detract from the merit of my unbeaten record in the men's field race also inspired by liberal intake of Grants 100.