The elegant Gaumont theatre in the Place de la ComedieI have discovered, to my detriment, that there is no point in waiting until the urge for a mille feuille becomes so overwhelming that I beg Jean to walk up to the boulangerie at 10.30 in the morning in order to buy me one. He has just returned with one croissant and one pain au chocolat, and the promise from the baker that if he gets in early tomorrow, he will hang on to one for me. Tomorrow my conscience might be in charge and I will be able to turn down anything on offer behind those gleaming glass counters, but I have heated up the coffee, cut the croissant and the pain au chocolat in half and we are enjoying a taste of each.
Having gazed in awe last night at the slim trim figure of Meryl Streep leaping about and dancing like a demon, I should be resisting all temptations of a culinary nature. “Mama Mia” was an absolute joy to see and although there will be those who find it necessary to sneer slightly at the acting abilities of some of the cast, and claim that you could shoot peas through the story line, I defy anyone to watch the film without a broad smile on their face and the terrible urge to sing out loud in the cinema.
The Royal Cinema is just off the Place de la Comedie which made for an excellent excuse to get there early to ensure that we knew where it was and to buy our tickets, thus avoiding the rush later on. The lady in the little glass box assured us that there would be no fight for seats as it was playing in the original English version with subtitles, and I would say that about fifty of the ABBA faithful turned up. The seats are plentiful and extremely comfortable, and the Royal gets my vote as it hosts a lot of original language version films and they are reasonable in their ticket pricing at 8 euros.
Having purchased our tickets, we needed a bite before going to the show, so we bought a small, but may I say utterly delicious pizza each and then realised that there was nowhere to sit and eat it. Every street in Montpellier is filled with chairs, but they are attached to tables and serviced by waiters, so no chance to rest weary legs and enjoy a cheap nibble. The city fathers have even re-organised the surrounds of the Trois Graces fountains so that nobody can be tempted to dine al fresco and then drop their paper bags into the waters. Eventually, we did the only clever thing we could think of, and sat on one of the benches at the tram line which runs right through the centre of the Place, and had the best view of the lights and the other people watchers.
Of course a good pizza needs to be washed down with something, so we wandered into the upper streets of the old quarter and found a very pleasant little square, buzzing with bars and restaurants. It is obvious that the University is starting to come to life after the summer recess and instead of tourists, the streets are now filled with tee shirted kids with American accents, English youngsters with earnest expressions looking as though they had just nipped over from Oxford for the day, black clothed German students and serious looking professors.
The atmosphere had changed totally since our trip in last week, and it was fascinating to watch the students and their outfits. The French girls stood out a mile and my favourite was a pretty lass astride a bike, wearing long blue socks which covered her knees, short shorts which barely covered her bottom, and an arrangement of tee shirt and waistcoat, all topped off with wildly curly hair. She peddled around greeting old friends, pausing to kiss everyone she met, and narrowly avoiding a young man on a mono-cycle who was weaving his way around the square also waving open arms at his acquaintances. For the price of a glass of rose, I reckon it is the most entertaining hour that money can buy and I strongly encourage anyone to give the usual touristic haunts of Comedie a miss and work your way up into the old quarter where the students rule.
We came out of the movie at around 10.30 and the streets were jammed with laughing drinking young people, but there was none of the manic forcing down of quick-fix alcohol, but rather an amoeba-like movement of laughter, greetings and amiability. I have avoided the drinking youth of England, and steered clear of the over-priced high pitched loud music plagued haunts of Miami. But this was something quite different, and we moved through the crowd feeling completely at ease. No raised voices, no rough swearing or threatening tones. Just young people happy to be out in the mild evening air with a glass in their hands, thoroughly enjoying themselves. It makes one think that perhaps all small children should be offered a glass of watered down wine as they are growing up alongside their parents, and maybe there would be a lot less of the desire to drink the pub dry within the first half hour of arriving, followed by a knife fight or violent vomiting in the nearest gutter.
We walked past another of the large groups of wandering youths with their dark clothing, heavy boots and dogs, and I was surprised to hear one remarking to his fellow traveller in a very cultured voice “in my opinion, the thoughts of Chairman Mao….” I didn’t hear the rest of his views as we moved on, but I found myself wondering quite what niche these youngsters will occupy in society in ten years time. Visions of “Blade Runner” ran through my mind, but no sign of Harrison Ford taking charge just yet.
The recent rain has done the garden the world of good. All the courgette plants are filled with large yellow flowers and the baby spinach starts to look highly edible. I pulled up a reasonably large radish this morning and found a fat ant trying to cling to it. I am going to have another serious word with them, if only to force a confession about where my onions are. Not a single seed has come up, and if I catch an ant with bad breath, he is for the high jump.
We are just about to go and fetch our new car – well, new to us that is. Because it is almost identical to the car that she owned in Miami, and because we try and park in the shade just like she did, I have the feeling that the car will earn the name “Sybil” in fond memory of a very dear friend whom we miss, but who has promised to come and visit en route from Paris to Morocco – as you do!
Having gazed in awe last night at the slim trim figure of Meryl Streep leaping about and dancing like a demon, I should be resisting all temptations of a culinary nature. “Mama Mia” was an absolute joy to see and although there will be those who find it necessary to sneer slightly at the acting abilities of some of the cast, and claim that you could shoot peas through the story line, I defy anyone to watch the film without a broad smile on their face and the terrible urge to sing out loud in the cinema.
The Royal Cinema is just off the Place de la Comedie which made for an excellent excuse to get there early to ensure that we knew where it was and to buy our tickets, thus avoiding the rush later on. The lady in the little glass box assured us that there would be no fight for seats as it was playing in the original English version with subtitles, and I would say that about fifty of the ABBA faithful turned up. The seats are plentiful and extremely comfortable, and the Royal gets my vote as it hosts a lot of original language version films and they are reasonable in their ticket pricing at 8 euros.
Having purchased our tickets, we needed a bite before going to the show, so we bought a small, but may I say utterly delicious pizza each and then realised that there was nowhere to sit and eat it. Every street in Montpellier is filled with chairs, but they are attached to tables and serviced by waiters, so no chance to rest weary legs and enjoy a cheap nibble. The city fathers have even re-organised the surrounds of the Trois Graces fountains so that nobody can be tempted to dine al fresco and then drop their paper bags into the waters. Eventually, we did the only clever thing we could think of, and sat on one of the benches at the tram line which runs right through the centre of the Place, and had the best view of the lights and the other people watchers.
Of course a good pizza needs to be washed down with something, so we wandered into the upper streets of the old quarter and found a very pleasant little square, buzzing with bars and restaurants. It is obvious that the University is starting to come to life after the summer recess and instead of tourists, the streets are now filled with tee shirted kids with American accents, English youngsters with earnest expressions looking as though they had just nipped over from Oxford for the day, black clothed German students and serious looking professors.
The atmosphere had changed totally since our trip in last week, and it was fascinating to watch the students and their outfits. The French girls stood out a mile and my favourite was a pretty lass astride a bike, wearing long blue socks which covered her knees, short shorts which barely covered her bottom, and an arrangement of tee shirt and waistcoat, all topped off with wildly curly hair. She peddled around greeting old friends, pausing to kiss everyone she met, and narrowly avoiding a young man on a mono-cycle who was weaving his way around the square also waving open arms at his acquaintances. For the price of a glass of rose, I reckon it is the most entertaining hour that money can buy and I strongly encourage anyone to give the usual touristic haunts of Comedie a miss and work your way up into the old quarter where the students rule.
We came out of the movie at around 10.30 and the streets were jammed with laughing drinking young people, but there was none of the manic forcing down of quick-fix alcohol, but rather an amoeba-like movement of laughter, greetings and amiability. I have avoided the drinking youth of England, and steered clear of the over-priced high pitched loud music plagued haunts of Miami. But this was something quite different, and we moved through the crowd feeling completely at ease. No raised voices, no rough swearing or threatening tones. Just young people happy to be out in the mild evening air with a glass in their hands, thoroughly enjoying themselves. It makes one think that perhaps all small children should be offered a glass of watered down wine as they are growing up alongside their parents, and maybe there would be a lot less of the desire to drink the pub dry within the first half hour of arriving, followed by a knife fight or violent vomiting in the nearest gutter.
We walked past another of the large groups of wandering youths with their dark clothing, heavy boots and dogs, and I was surprised to hear one remarking to his fellow traveller in a very cultured voice “in my opinion, the thoughts of Chairman Mao….” I didn’t hear the rest of his views as we moved on, but I found myself wondering quite what niche these youngsters will occupy in society in ten years time. Visions of “Blade Runner” ran through my mind, but no sign of Harrison Ford taking charge just yet.
The recent rain has done the garden the world of good. All the courgette plants are filled with large yellow flowers and the baby spinach starts to look highly edible. I pulled up a reasonably large radish this morning and found a fat ant trying to cling to it. I am going to have another serious word with them, if only to force a confession about where my onions are. Not a single seed has come up, and if I catch an ant with bad breath, he is for the high jump.
We are just about to go and fetch our new car – well, new to us that is. Because it is almost identical to the car that she owned in Miami, and because we try and park in the shade just like she did, I have the feeling that the car will earn the name “Sybil” in fond memory of a very dear friend whom we miss, but who has promised to come and visit en route from Paris to Morocco – as you do!
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