For those of you who would like to make a comment, but don't know how(!!!) BLOGGER tells me that they have enlarged the possibilities to make a comment (simplified it according to them) now it is not necessary to hide your name if you don't want to open an account to pass a personal comment, attributed to yourself (making you responsible!) ARE CHIPPIES days as A.NONY. MOUSE in danger? scared? Fear and trembling WATCH OUT!

This is THE bridge at night (not at the times I'm talking of however). 

I forgot to send this one-this is the Englishman's humour! 

english If anything could explain a little bit the phenomenon of the Englishman, I suppose the 2 photos and 2 designs go a little way. Supposedly cool calm and collected, suave with common good sense, unflappable, unexcitable, absolutely none of the 'vulgar' continental outbreaks of temperamentful screaming/shouting etc. he is, in fact , a completely mixed up piece of merchandise. He wants to scream out his patrimony, but can't - accepts all creeds, colours, sizes,shapes of everything, is proud of this fact , but reserves the right to complain about all of these things- all of the time! Don't ever (for example) say to an Englishman that you find his Royalty, old-fashioned or feudal. Even the greatest enemy (when at home) of Royalty, will take enormous umbrage at the fact that anybody (apart from an Englishman, of course) should consider himself qualified to make the slightest statement on ANY matter concerning " God's personal garden of Eden". This is ...

And I'm the modern version!! 

I'm cool,calm,collected Galle but not Gallic- I'm the Englishman. 

Gallic flair. That's what one calls it. In the past, the most required tool in any French garage was a hammer, or rather a collection of hammers to match the size of the task. Ridiculously enough, a good hammering often worked (didn't lower the bill) and maybe this very fact was typical of those things which happened to 'non-Gallics' mainly on the paying end, and generally on holiday, which made English people apopleptict, even redder than usual, utterly mad and at a complete loss for words. Germans were seen to go off marching 'goose-step' manner, muttering things that darkly resembled political statements from a while back, Dutch and other northern climate people just didn't understand anything, and preferred to put the 'being pleasant and friendly' smile and attitude on (later-amongst themselves it was different). Italians, being basically the same as the French said nothing, and went off to find a way of revenge, the Spanish spread their hands...

You only see him in heart of France now-probably a Brit/Dutch! 

The one all Brits know. 

After enormous amounts of research, mr. le Marquis has decided to go to print with his new series "European Types", together with the odd illustration or other . This new series will NOT stop him from boring you with all the other ones, already on line/in head/ in hand/ published/printed/or to come back to! Sorry about that. Since I am likely to upset all sorts of people with this new series (all about 'stereotyped' europeans etc) I thought I would start with the one about our Frenchman. He is the least likely to read it, and therefore to be insulted by it, and I can always pretend that his English, my French, my English, his French are not of the same categories! All a mistake Jacques, put the baguettes away! (see what I mean). Anyway, off we go: A few party warm-uppers, then a photo,then the article (spot)! french food SAUSAAGE! for chippie. french food SAUSAAGE! fries French food Simple Simon!! French food Simple...

Chip shop at Montpellier! 

Harry Ramsden's at Leeds 

posh chip shop 

When I was younger, still had some hair, many years ago, people used to send me Valentine's, birthday greetings, bottles of wine!! ('scuse me, Beatles). They also used to take me to institutions called: " Fish and Chip shops". These places were all over, were of all imaginable shapes,sizes, snobbish, low-graded, luxurious, unusable and cockroach ridden, BUT they all had one thing in common, they were all temples of worship to that dish known simply as 'fish & chips', sold in a shop/restaurant/snack bar normally known as a 'chippie' (hence my mate in ( )'s interest). Now everybody, but everybody had their own favourite, and I recall even before setting off in a charabanc (yes, they called the motorised vehicules that at the time) to go for a day out at the beach, all had been arranged, recalled in memory, and the decision taken to which 'chippie' we would all go that day. Normally it was the one favoured by the person paying (rarely my...