As the days draw in and the weather reconsiders its options, my annual holiday is fast approaching. All Summer long, while others journeyed to far off destinations in search of dangerous adventures and immoral experiences, I stayed put to work and mind the shop (so to speak). But now my burdens have lifted and my labours are done, and I shall finally hearken to the siren song of distant lands and follow the urgings of my smitten heart.
Well, something sort of like that. In a nutshell, come Saturday I will be off again to La Bourboule. La Bourboule is quite simply the most romantic place on earth. Paris, Venice, Oxford, Heidelberg, all these are nothing compared to La Bourboule. Of course, there is Portland, Oregon .... But no, even Portland cannot be favourably compared to La Bourboule.
Perhaps there are one or two individuals - ill educated, for sure - who have not heard of La Bourboule and its many charms. To enlighten these poor souls, I have decided to send daily postcards from La Bourboule, conveyed on this Blog. Last year I made a half hearted attempt to do something similar on Facebook, but alas many of my friends are Facebook-averse and anyway it is a little limiting for my purposes.
I hope my 'Postcards from La Bourboule' will prove entertaining and illuminating, both to the many millions out there who already love and admire La Bourboule, and to those few who have not hitherto been confronted with its numerous attractions. For three weeks I shall report on the Asthma reducing results of 'Taking the Cure', the invigorating effects of hiking in the mountains that surround La Bourboule, the various entertainments available in the town itself (including the only duck pond in the world with plastic ducks), and of course La Banne d'Ordanche - the Mecca of French Glidermen.
La Banne d'Ordanche will continue to feature heavily in this Blog in times to come, because of the mission that has been entrusted to me by the Tiny Visitors. When they heard that I regularly go to La Bourboule they got frightfully excited and told me about La Dame d'Ordanche who is rumoured to haunt Glider Mountain, and their friend Fatty Messerschmitt who was lost when they sought refuge there from the war. I did warn them that my French was practically non-existent, and since most of the people of La Bourboule don't speak English my scope for making enquiries would be severely limited. This upset them terribly, and I was accused of rank selfishness for not knowing French. I am going to have to make some sort of effort to track down Fatty, it's either that or learn French, darn it!