In Memoriam

I know you're all desperate (why else would you be reading this nonsense). No, what I mean is that I know you're all desperate to hear about what I did on my holidays. Before I delve into that though, I need to pay a small tribute to an old Breton reprobate who enlivened many an evening for us in Trebrivan.

Seen in the photo above are (L-R) Mrs The Millbrooker, yours truly, Jean-Pierre, Shazzerooneypoos, Patrique and Michelle in Bar la Forge a couple of years back.

Jean-Pierre sadly died earlier this year, still only in his fifties. He was a lively character and I'd be telling porkies if I said we hadn't had our ups-and-downs with our Breton neighbour, but most of the time we rubbed along fine and enjoyed more than one raucous evening at Bar la Forge with the old so-and-so. "JP" (pronounced the French way: Zhee-Pay) liked a dram or two of almost anything he could get his hands on and was frequently seen indulging in a little "bracener" before heading off to drive his tractor at 8 in the morning.

There was a memorable occasion in Bar la Forge when JP decided it would be a fine idea to dance around brandishing his cordless electric drill do demonstrate his carefree attitude to life. Most of us other punters in the bar took rapid evasive action, which seemed the wisest move at the time.

Michelle (far right in the headline shot), JP's Breton-Paysanne wife (they had "married" in a non-official Breton ceremony a year or so ago) donated the last batch of his eau-de-vie Lambig to Bar la Forge. Lambig is a fire-water spirit made from distilled apple juice and the home made stuff tends to come in at about 60% ABV and is thus wildly illegal for consumption in a public bar. However, in memory of our characterful and much missed neighbour, Mrs The Millbrooker and I made fairly short work of the final two glasses. It should be noted that the final two glasses of Lambig that JP ever made also made fairly short work of us, we were very pleased that our holiday home is only a few steps away (in fact you can see one corner of it over Mrs The Millbrooker's right shoulder). He would have been proud.

Naturally, we took the opportunity to raise the glasses in his honour. Thanks for the good times, JP. Trebrivan really ain't the same place without your charms.