WAGS 2025 10 29: Autumnal Thoughts, or The Sere And The Yellow

 These blogs have, from their very outset, adhered to two inviolable principles – the first, always to avoid politics, and the second ( as Yves will doubtless testify), never to take the mickey out of the French.

However, over these past few weeks, it has become impossible to resist the temptation to override those principles. First, there has been the example of M. Le Président Micron who keeps losing his Prime Ministers and then he loses France´s Napoleonic crown jewels.

But we will not dwell on him.

Then there was the sight of ex-Président M. N (for Napoleon) Sarkozy, marching off to La Bastille to the strains of La Marseillaise, convicted of trying to borrow money from a dictatorial Libyan called Gaddafi. (For heaven´s sake – no British high-up would ever dream of trying such a thing!) But was that a crime? If so, it illustrates the difference between British and French law. In Britain, one can do what one likes unless there is a law against it; in France, one can only do what one likes if there is a law in place to say it is OK.

But we will not dwell on him or that.

No, the story that caught my eye and really made me chuckle was the one about a certain M. Guillaume Larrivé. A month or so ago, this functionary had been appointed by Micron to be Head of the French Office for Immigration and Integration. Now, one can readily appreciate that, with a name like L´Arrivé (which can translate variously as The New Arrival or He´s Finally Made It,) our Bill must have felt himself ideally suited for such a position, the name alone enough to give immigrants a sympathetic welcome. But now, alas, M. L´Arrivé has resigned because the job turned out to be harder than he had imagined. Instead of simply having to welcome immigrants to stay, he found out that he was expected to move them on, either by returning them whence they came, or perhaps by arranging a comfortable boat trip for them across La Manche into the welcoming arms of the UK´s welfare state.

So L´Arrivé `as now L´eft.

All this inconsequential verbiage is, of course, a roundabout and gauche or, if you prefer, maladroit way of preserving in the Blog yet another splendid photo by Yves and also of encouraging him to rejoin our gatherings together with his camera. Here it is.

The Sere and the Yellow

The phrase "the sere and the yellow" is an allusion to that bit in Shakespeare´s Macbeth where Macbeth finds that he has lost the will to live and feels withered like an Autumn Leaf. The phrase also occurs in Conan Doyle´s first Sherlock Holmes story "A Study In Scarlet" where the great detective says "Well, if a man can stride four and a half feet without the smallest effort, he can´t quite be in the sere and the yellow." when deducing an as-yet-unknown murderer´s height as being over 6 feet from the length of his stride. 

Well, to be sure, on last Wednesday´s walk - and of course this blog is as always only about the walk - my stride was nowhere near four and a half feet;, far from it. I must be getting sere.

The Walk

Ah yes. The walk.

The weather had not been at all encouraging but we decided to walk on the strength of  my PC´s weather forecast that the heavy overnight rainclouds would disappear by 9.30 am or so. And so it turned out. When the three of us set out, the sky was indeed clear blue as far as the eye could see - and we had a quorum - three walkers, starting from Pescadores. So no reason not to go.

Despite the rains, the track was mud free and mostly dry.

The two ladies set a cracking pace from the start and I struggled to keep up with them.

We passed an old Via Algarviana marker post leaning wearily against a bank and I knew just how it felt.

Ta Ra !

The girls reached our highest point long before I did .

Almost there.

The way back was a little bit easier  and it was pleasant to meet a posse from the nearby riding school.

Pomegranates were scrumped from I know not where.

Pescadores´ home village, full name Pedreira de Santo Estêvão, is seeing its fair share of building work, both new-build :-

and restoration:-

Back at Pescadores, time for a quick chat with Senhor Bento, a young 95, and an ice tea and then off to Norinha for lunch.

The Track and the Statistics

A simple there and back.

The Lunch

At Norinha,we three walkers were joined by five non-walkers who had come for food and banter, some having reached the café by a more circuitous route than was strictly necessary -  no names, no pack-drill.

The more the non-walkers outnumber the walkers, the more imperative it will be to change the name of our group.

The food was as good as always but lack of staff means the boss man Senhor Luis has to double as grill master as well as head waiter, so service is necessarily rather slow.

A fine dourada

Febras de Porco Grelhadas

Entremeada Grelhada

The actress said to the bishop  and then......

the bishop said to the actress....

Sweet nothings

Thanks to Antje and Hazel for additional photos.

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, so they say, so here is something to calm down any Frenchman who might have taken umbrage at some of my earlier remarks. (By the way, this is not an apology.) It is a French classic.