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13th October 2011

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PILGRIMAGE TO BEC, FRANCE Me and Queenie joined our church on a pilgrimage to Bec in Normandy. It’s a very beautiful part of the world, rather like an idealised version of England. The main differences being the comparative lack of people, better weather and slightly more exotic fauna (orange slugs and wild boar as road kill). Huge ripe fruit hangs from orchard trees and I had the best pears of my life picked from these. One would think that the nuns of Bec Abbey would be living the French gastro dream surrounded by all this natural produce - not a bit of it! The food was dreadful; packet soups and vegetable muck boiled to death. On our first night we were served dollops of instant mash. There was this almost inaudible sigh as us pilgrims prepared ourselves for the inevitable accompanying grey beef slices in syrupy brown gravy. None arrived; the Instant Mash was The Meal. It was funny to see how the table split into different factions: 1. The people who thought that a pilgrimage retreat probably should be quite a miserable affair foodwise. And that it was churlish to make a fuss over such an temporal matter. 2. Those who thought such a dinner was an affront to civilisation. Similar to a war crime such as the bombing of the bridge at Mostar. 3. Spirit of the Blitz, Let’s have a laugh types who turned it all into a joke with lots of references to Tenko, food stamps and how they needed to lose weight anyway. And ourselves? We went for Steak and Chips at the indifferent Cafe Bistro across the road. The really funny meal thing happened the following night when us Brits inadvertently purloined a French groups quite decent Lasagne. As they had taken a pledge of silence for that day they were unable to reclaim it from us.

PILGRIMAGE TO BEC, FRANCE

Me and Queenie joined our church on a pilgrimage to Bec in Normandy. It’s a very beautiful part of the world, rather like an idealised version of England. The main differences being the comparative lack of people, better weather and slightly more exotic fauna (orange slugs and wild boar as road kill). Huge ripe fruit hangs from orchard trees and I had the best pears of my life picked from these. One would think that the nuns of Bec Abbey would be living the French gastro dream surrounded by all this natural produce - not a bit of it! The food was dreadful; packet soups and vegetable muck boiled to death. On our first night we were served dollops of instant mash. There was this almost inaudible sigh as us pilgrims prepared ourselves for the inevitable accompanying grey beef slices in syrupy brown gravy. None arrived; the Instant Mash was The Meal. It was funny to see how the table split into different factions:

1. The people who thought that a pilgrimage retreat probably should be quite a miserable affair foodwise. And that it was churlish to make a fuss over such an temporal matter.

2. Those who thought such a dinner was an affront to civilisation. Similar to a war crime such as the bombing of the bridge at Mostar.

3. Spirit of the Blitz, Let’s have a laugh types who turned it all into a joke with lots of references to Tenko, food stamps and how they needed to lose weight anyway.

And ourselves? We went for Steak and Chips at the indifferent Cafe Bistro across the road. The really funny meal thing happened the following night when us Brits inadvertently purloined a French groups quite decent Lasagne. As they had taken a pledge of silence for that day they were unable to reclaim it from us.

Tagged: PilgrimageBecFranceAntique Church FurnishingsChapel ChairsChurch Pews

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