The Fly and the Earworm:

by | Mar 20, 2024 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

I skirted the coastline, zigzagging in and out of tiny coves and emerging onto huge secret beaches with nobody around.

I probably enjoyed the best day so far today. My planned eight and a half kilometre walk along the north coast from Locquirec to Guimaec, was finally here. Having been postponed twice because of bad weather then a broken fridge, (don’t ask) the journey was on.

It was as if I’d been parachuted into spring, when I first arrived in early February. Especially following a particularly grim English winter. Today, however, was more like early summer. The days seemed to improve with each one which passed.

The temperature was a balmy sixteen degrees and the insects had started to notice. A myriad of flying objects filled the air and crawled beneath my feet. From beautiful butterflies to tiny black insects, a whole variety of creatures decided to wake up.

I skirted the coastline, zigzagging in and out of tiny coves and emerging onto huge secret beaches with nobody around. Unlike the railway line which had been as flat as a witch’s mammary, this route was punishing. It reminded me of the central section of Hadrian’s wall, with a roaring sea for company. The waves were on my deaf side so the Atlantic swell was a gentle whooshing as I negotiated the rocky path.

As I was ducking under a fallen tree, I inhaled a fly. It went right down without touching the sides. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shift the little pest from my throat. It immediately reminded me of the old lady who swallowed the fly.

I spent the next few uncomfortable minutes accompanied by the little bugger wriggling in my oesophagus, while the earworm did a dance on my eardrum. Eventually, the little blighter must have perished, because the wriggling stopped. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the old lady and her menagerie!

I finally arrived at what I thought was Guimaec but which turned out to be one of its satellite hamlets. This meant there was an hour’s walk to the genuine article. Unfortunately, the bus was in thirty minutes. I walked the four kilometres buoyed by the fact that it had a very good convenience store. I was, nevertheless, dealt another blow as it was closed from 12.45 till 3.00… it was one o’clock.

Crestfallen, I tramped into the village, in which Google had reliably informed me there were no shops, bars or cafés. Imagine my shock when I spotted a tired old building bearing the name Boulangerie. Not only that, but it had a tiny bar/tabac attached.

I entered the latter, which was about ten feet square, and ordered a beer. The lady said I could choose a cake from next door and enjoy my purchases ‘dehors’ at the tiny table in the street.

On my journey back to Locquirec I noticed a strange phenomenon. Two huge fields in which the farmer had ploughed back in thousands of huge cauliflowers. Although not a fan as my mam used to cook it to death, I still enjoyed it in such things as vegetable curry and cauliflower bhaji. It was probably too expensive to pick, reminding me of a story I’d written some time ago following a strange conversation. Here…

My final little wonder, or wonders was the swarm of black bees emanating from tiny holes in the ground, at the original start of my walk. They weren’t there in the morning when I’d set off. I suspected that the beautiful weather had attracted them. Spring. What a beautiful season in this beautiful place.

Multiple treats today with part six of Bandile’s story…

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