Sunday in Street S’eye Prine
I got up this morning at around half nine and looked out the window.
What was normally a spectacular view of the Dordogne river, was nothing but fog. Fuck.
Went down and made myself a cuppa and went out into the garden. No fog, just blazing sunshine, and that in the space of five minutes. Weird.
Herself decided that we were out of a few essentials – mainly cigarettes for Herself – but that she was too lazy to go shopping.
I muttered a few choice words, and went to do some research on the Interweb. I’m not going anywhere until I know it’s open.
The big supermarket – E Leclerc – was closed. That was fine. I checked our nearest town which is Saint Cyprien. I found two – an 8 a Huit and Champion. I had seen the 8 a Huit before and it can’t decide whether it’s a supermarket or a garden centre, and anyway the girl behind the cash desk was plug ugly, so I decided on Champion. I looked up their website. They closed at twelve, but at least they gave a map of their location, so I stuck Roger in the car and off we went.
I had programmed Roger to give me directions to St. Cyprien, but he insisted on giving directions to some place called Street S’eye Prine, which was a little disconcerting.
We arrived in Street S’eye Prine, at the location given by the Champion website, but it was a wee tobacconist. I hadn’t time to get the fags as it was close to twelve, so I asked Roger if he knew where Champion was. He was a little smug about this, but he told me it was the other end of town. We got there with about ten minutes to spare.
I managed to get everything on the list, despite being electrocuted by my trolly, and was last out of the shop.
Roger and I then headed back through Street S’eye Prine to the tobacco shop, which wasn’t easy as it was market day and the streets were mayhem.
I got her fags, and decided I needed some tobacco, so got some of that too. No sooner had I gone back to the car, when I realised the twat had given me rolly cigarette tobacco, so I had to go back and change it. I wasn’t too pleased about the price of the stuff. It was the same price as in Ireland, which was a bit of a downer.
It was only when I got back home that I realised it was a 50gm pack and not 25gm.
My faith in France is restored.
My faith in Roger is a little shakey even if he did find the supermarket.
My faith in Champion’s website is zilch.
And I’m still not sure whether I was in Saint Cyprien or Street S’eye Prine.
Why not send Roger to the bench and hire M. Thibaud, at least until you get back home.
M.Hulot is on vacation again.
Electrocuted?
Brianf – Leave Roger alone. Anyway, Thibaud would only make me think of Cunt Cowen.
TT – Heh! Yes – electrocuted. They are rebuilding the place and either I ran over some exposed cables or there was one hell of a build up of static. Either way, there was a crack and a wee flash, and I got stung.
Not sure that Leclerc do Sunday opening. We used to have to find an Intermarche.
Ian – That’s what I discovered. Leclerc open every day except Sunday. Champion open seven days, but close at midday on Sunday. I’m not sure about any Intermarche in this region?
Ah, but you’re on holiday in a foreign land remember? Just be glad that you actually found what you needed on a Sunday. BTW, I did a Google search on “Street S’eye Prine” and all I got was your post (it took up the first two top spots on the list), no wonder Roger was a bit confused. Seeing this plus the fact that the third position of the search was something about California, I didn’t bother looking at the rest. Good job on the SEO, sir.
Kirk M – One thing that has always amused me about this site is how quickly Google seem to pick up on it. They must like me?
Electrocuted means killed.
TT – Only in America. And even then only if you have done something really serious like smoking in the street in San Francisco?