Archive for September 6th, 2009

Sunday in Street S’eye Prine

September 6th, 2009

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.