Being left-handed can be a right pain in the arse in a world where everything is engineered with the right-handed in mind. I know this because I am a lefty (in both senses of the word). Moreover when a lefty well and truly knackers his left arm to the extent that his missus quite understandably gets the raving hump as he whinges on and on about the pain he is in being worse than childbirth something must be done!
It is thus that I now have a sling (I use ‘on and off’) to ease said pain, a sling annoyingly devoid of panache. The very blandest of slings. Even now she refuses to embroider the crest of my beloved Arsenal upon it! Regardless, I type with my left forefinger and have been told in no uncertain terms to lay off the keyboard until they work out exactly what damage I’ve done. The plus of course is that I shall frequent my cafés of choice even more often than before and for the duration of this most irksome affliction, whilst hopefully getting in the odd sneaky post when ‘she who must be obeyed’ is not looking.
With this short leave of absence in mind (and do forgive the FB’ness of this post) herewith a few snaps (some borrowed) of my favourite nearby haunts frequented in order to seek a little inspiration as to what to write about. Above is a one of the rear garden of La Salle Verte, my most favoured spot where the coffee is sublime as is the owner, an absolutely lovely Portuguese gal… think Arlo Guthrie’s song Alice’s Restaurant here! It is rather splendid inside also.
Should one find oneself in or about The Port of Dover and in need of a coffee or lunch then this is the place to go! https://www.facebook.com/lasallevertecafe
Below another brace of snaps revealing a fine alternative café, restaurant, bar Cullens Yard I visit often from which I ‘traffic watch’ – rather than my usual pursuit namely ‘people watching’. You see across the marina is the main road where HGV lorries from a galaxy of nations (although mostly within the EU) exit the port upon arrival in the UK. They fascinate me…it doesn’t take a lot to fascinate this old fool I should add!
On occasions, in places where retail franchise outlets huddle together there are times when one cannot find an independent café…the vile gluttonous trend toward reservoirs of coffee in manmade cardboard foot spa’s Starbucks style comes to mind. Below is not a Starbucks yet a similar national franchise I had little choice but to patronize a couple of days ago…were it not for the antics of ‘Brian the Seagull’ I think I would have opened a vein. As you may observe my chauffeur (the arm prevents me driving presently) for the afternoon was my youngest musician son a tad miffed at having been charged with the task of propelling me about on his day off!
And finally a couple of French haunts. Firstly, a lane up high in Boulogne’s charming Old Town just across The Channel where each and every café sells coffee to die for and where the pretty gals promenade!
Lastly, the square in Bethune (a wonderful little town near Lille in Northern France) with cafes galore I generally make a beeline for whenever possible. It is here to the melody of ‘A Scottish Soldier’ that the clock in the Belfry chimes every quarter hour (with a full rendition on the hour) in honour of the brave Highlanders who died defending the place in WW1.
Do have the most wonderful Christmas one and all…time for a glass of something red methinks!