A Fickle Lass:

by | Mar 5, 2024 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

…akin to a magical bridge.

Brittany, as beautiful and as fickle as the prettiest girl. Full of charm but equally contemptuous to those taking her for granted. Take this morning for example. I woke at six, to post the blog of the day, to a golden rectangle framing the blinds of my bedroom window. The old cast iron radiator was pumping out heat cancelling the single figure temperature outside.

I leapt up with anticipation and was not disappointed to witness the most spectacular of sunrises over the surrounding countryside. You know, one of those which is so dazzling, you know your phone camera is never going to do it justice. However, I bagged a couple of shots through the open window. The cool air completed my waking process. Nevertheless, I closed the window and got back into bed. After posting my story on the versatile device, I consulted the weather app – my heart sank. Rain due in an hour with risk of flood and high winds. The love of my life was in a bad fettle.

I dressed and padded downstairs, crestfallen. I tucked into my bread, butter and apricot jam and washed it down with a bowl of milky coffee. All the while, I glanced outside with an obvious disappointed expression.

“Something wrong Brian?” Christine enquired.

“Not really,” I replied, proceeding to explain my disappointment at the weather.

“No, this is Brittany. You have to accept everything that it offers. Don’t let the weather put you off. It’s what makes this place special.” Her words made so much sense. Why was I here in the first place? To enjoy the experience! I opened Google maps and planned my day; a trip to the coast, dressed for the occasion. Following a shower and a choice of suitable attire, Shimamoto and I set off along the narrow roads, twenty kilometres to the beach.

Far from spoiling it, the weather enhanced my experience, gifting me with sunny intervals similar to a smiling face from a lover, and the most singular of rainbows – arc en ciel – in French; from a cafe at Saint Efflam. The multi-coloured band spanned the bay between Beg Douar and Karregou c’ hoar, akin to a magical bridge. I imagined a crock of gold on each of the two promontories. My fellow customers in the Fac a la Mer, a unique shop, come cafe, come bar, followed my gaze and began to dance around at the view before them. I guessed their combined age to be around a hundred and sixty.

About a kilometre or so to the east, stands a lonely slab of marble, intricately carved in the shape of Brittany. It commemorates a little known event towards the end of the second world war. It contributed to the liberation of Brittany from the Germans in August 1944. As I stood reading the inscription, with the backdrop of the beach, I realised that in August, it will be eighty years since that event. I promised myself that, if at all possible, I would be here on that day.

It commemorates a little known event towards the end of the second world war.

My final visit of the day was the thumb-shaped peninsular of Locquirec, sticking out into the Celtic Sea like a giant emoji. There, I enjoyed a coffee and shared the friendly atmosphere with the locals who greeted each other in that lovely tactile French way, comforting for a serial hugger like me.  Returning to the car, I passed the smallest library I’d ever seen. Boite a Livres, translated as Book Box, was effectively a dog kennel on stilts.

I passed the smallest library I’d ever seen.

Brittany, as beautiful and as fickle as the prettiest girl and just as mesmerising. Here’s part two of the 19th century mystery…


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