Photos With Which to Fascinate and/or Bore You

As I write I'm more or less housebound. The iritis which was the subject of my self-pitying whinge on these pages back around Christmas time has returned with a vengeance  and I'm struggling to see the laptop screen, let alone managing daylight without a very wide-brimmed hat and the darkest sunglasses I can find (otherwise it hurts like hell).


So there's a dearth of anything exciting to write about in my life at the moment as each day is pretty much confined to playing guitar until my fingers hurt (decent vision not required) or listening to the radio. It'll pass - but after the treatment wears off, we'll find out how much permanent damage has been done. Ho hum.


Meantime, in light of having not much to write about - I'll make a valiant attempt at boring the pants off you with a selection of holiday snaps from the five hundred or so that we took between us during the three weeks away. I've chosen them for no better reason than I like them, or because they sum up one aspect or other of our summer weeks in Brittany.


So, for those of you who (like me) enjoy having a nose at other people's holiday photos, my small selection - in roughly chronological order and featuring all the main elements of what constitutes a great holiday in the Millbrooker household.


Chewing the fat over a beer.

A meal and a drink in glorious surroundings.

Mmmmm..looks inviting. I think I'll go back as soon as I can.

The Riviere d'Argent (Or the Silverlode as I refer to it) close to Huelgoat. If it's alright to have a "favourite river", this is mine.

Swallows nesting at the Moulin de Kerouat.

The Moulin de Kerouat itself, a little haven of calm. Apart from Dong singing "There's An Old Mill By The Stream, Nelly Dean" from a platform above the water wheel.

Shazzerooneypoos practising her French with a young barman in La Fueillee.

Like a moth to a flame......show a stage to a show-off and you get at least a short performance. This is in Guingamp.

Speaking of Guingamp, this is one of its prettier corners (which is not to say the rest of the town is unattractive - it's all rather easy on the eye).

Surely no holiday (especially over Bastille Day) is complete without fireworks. I  love fireworks.

Well, it's not real railway - but it has rails, so it must be of interest. Les Forges des Salles, in Perret.

The traditional Breton weather is often good for a laugh. It seemed like such a good idea to walk up a garden path in the hissing rain. And it probably was, too.

It's always nice to come across an unexpected performance of live music, especially a really cheesy bit of chanson at a favourite bar.

Sometimes the urge to get a bit of an arty-farty but rather attractive photo can win over the urge for another photo of Dong slurping a beer. This is on the Ile de Batz, just off the Roscoff coast.

Shazzerooneypoos was delighted to spend a bit of each morning checking on the baby house martins in the nest outside the bedroom window.

Speaking of bird life - spotting some juvenile water rails near to Callac was a bit of a treat in the week after Dong and Shazzerooneypoos went home.

It was on that same expedition that the Breton weather got up to its old tricks again.

But it rarely rains for long - we were soon enjoying wonderful little spots in better weather. This is known as 'Le Pont Gaullois" or Gaulish bridge, it's near to Treffrin and it's still usable for pedestrians.

You might have gathered that we do lots of walking.

We also enjoy a tipple or two with friends. Here's the inimitable Jean-Luc about to pour something very naughty indeed. It's not a commercial brand, you might note.

A lovely view is never far away. This is at the beginning of a walk we did around the Armorique Peninsula. It's very close to Plestin les Greves.

On that walk we discovered that the path itself can sometimes be not very path-like, however. Oh yes, this is the marked way.

Mmmm - more yummy food. Foie Gras de Canard in parfait and in gently cooked, almost whole, form.

It was Jean-Luc's birthday when we were there - we made him a card; he's learning his first chords on the guitar and we had a mess around which resulted in the doctored photo. He was very pleased with it.

Speaking of guitars, on his birthday, I was pressed into service to show Mathilde (Jean-Luc and Gaelle's niece) a chord or two. The very idea of me being a teacher on an instrument that I play like an infant is, of course, ludicrous - but in the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king.

More birthday celebrations as we did "Breton Dancing" at the table.

And then that Lambig came out again.

More walking - this a view from an old slate workings on the Landes de Liscuis. Great walk; best of the holiday.

On the same walk - an allee couverte.

More live music - Soldat Louis in Callac. The most fun I've had with my clothes on for a while. Brilliant, cheesy rock with bagpipes.

Out walking again - wild fungus on a woodland path.

Fantasising about houses - this one's a bit in need of restoration (as with so many in Brittany) and it's got its own, genuine, menhir in the garden. I could be talked into that one, I reckon.

Sometimes there's nothing better than just sitting and being.....watching as the sun sets.

Once again - a meal with Jean-Luc and Gaelle - this is Gaelle doing some prep work in the kitchen.

And this is Jean-Luc serving the most delicious hunk of beef I've had in ages. Charred on the barbecue and beautifully rare inside.

Now, did I mention sunsets a couple of photos ago? Sometimes Trebrivan gives us a great one - this is from the patio.

Yet more walking shots - these two are from a circuit around Kerpert.

Eventually, of course, we have to say our goodbyes; Jean-Luc and Gaelle turned up on their quad on our last full day in Trebrivan. A beer or two  might have followed this meeting.

And so, off to Roscoff for the last night to avoid having to get up at the crack of sparrow fart, which would have been a necessity from Trebrivan if we were to catch the morning sailing homeward.

The unexpected pleasure of some live music by Oktopus Kafe on the harbourside.

And so to the misty ferry port to queue up and await our homeward sailing.

There you go - that's it. Well done for getting this far.


I'm off to do more guitar noodling to while away the unsighted hours....a bientot.