Day 41: Paris to Orleans

Long lie yet again, woop! (little did I know how badly I would need this).

Off on an epic panicked cycle to the station to take the train to Orleans* through the chocked cycle lanes of Paris. Not, however, choked with keen commuters and other city based cycling specimens but instead middle aged female shoppers, shifty looking men, folk with push chairs and all Parisiens between. Arrived at the station in plenty of time planning an easy ticket purchase folowed by a pre journey fag and juice. Not so in France. In France, even though its a Friday afternoon, they elect to open around 5% of the ticket desks and employ folk in silly hats to run about doing literally nothing but looking stressed to add to the chaos rather than serve folk who are about to miss their trains. After 45 minutes and a dollop of irate shouting in shit French I got served, leaving me with 2 minutes to run to the platform and try to load the heaviest bike in history on to the train single handed.

Train journey was slightly more successful though as not only did I get a call from Angus (first contact in about a week) but also a message confirming that I was meeting Sappho in Tours in 2 days, woohoo!

Arrived in Orleans in good time to meet my new couchsurfing host Clement and his lovely cat Captain Asshole. Clement turned out to be lunatic, but a nice one, whose bathroom ceiling had fallen in only 2 days before. We sat about and chatted with his mates until heading out to his friend's house for some utterly rank Pastis and some less rank whiskey. Also they had chickens in their back garden, sound. This, and the next journey, took place in an awesome old VW golf not dissimilar to Angus' Vulcan, accompanied by some drink driving, very loud Beastie boys and drawing on the roof. Not that I knew at the time but we were heading miles out into the countryside to a gig which turned out to be rather excellent. As did the barman who gave me some free beer. This is a terribly filmed video of said band who may play a show at the Halt Bar in the not so distant future. They are called The Ghost Brothers Big Band.




Anyway everyone had a fucking great time and I ended up falling asleep on a particularly uncomfortable chair in the middle of the afterparty since there were a million folk sitting on my "bed".

*Yes folks, I got on another train but only because my silly Tazmanian mate Sappho wanted me to get to Tours for Sunday afternoon: I recieved this news on Thursday night and I couldn't be arsed doing over 150 miles in 2 and a bit days.