A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
Sunday, 11 February 2018
Dutch Pete. A short tale.
Certain things only seem to happen to ex-pats. I cannot imagine this tale ever having happened back in Blighty.
Since living in France, I have been 'warned-off' associating with two different people. Someone I knew, who was 'well connected', had access to info about 'undesirables'. He consulted the records of those who bought houses nearby, if (to him) they looked in the slightest bit 'dodgy'.
One of these 'undesirables' was a very pleasant Dutch guy, who was probably best described as 'a lovable rogue'; I imagine he had been involved in the selling of drugs back in Holland, but I don't really know.
We got on very well together. We didn't meet that often, and I certainly never saw a nasty side of him.
He had bought a group of ruins, and converted the pigsties into a small but comfortable home. He lived with his very beautiful girlfriend and they followed a quiet life travelling between Holland and France. One of his greatest pleasures was sitting outdoors on summer evenings and shooting Rats as they came out from one of the ruins. As I say; he lived a simple life.
Then, one day I was warned-off. I was told in no uncertain terms that a law-abiding person (such as myself) should have nothing to do with him, and I reluctantly heeded the advice. Not long after, there were stories of an escaped Dutch prisoner arriving at his home, a resulting gunfight, and all the ensuing police palaver that one might imagine. I was very relieved to have cut my ties when I did.
I tend to take people as I find them. Dutch Pete was an interesting and fun person. Maybe he did have some minor criminal past, and had I known about it I might simply have tucked it away at the back of my mind, but it certainly wouldn't have made me shun him. It was only when I was given my serious warning that I took note. I only write about him now because Dutch Pete is long dead.
The second of the two warnings I originally ignored. I came to my own conclusions later on, but not at all because of my friend's remonstrations.
At the time I was quite shocked by these 'warnings', and frankly I am still quite shocked that they were ever made at all. I can't imagine a similar scenario in England.
Do you believe?
*Fifty-Five years ago on November 22, 1963, president John Fitzgerald
Kennedy rode alongside his wife Jackie in a motorcade through the crowded
streets of ...
3 weeks ago
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone (except the obdurate and dictatorial) is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 46 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), a Border Collie/Black Lab' cross called Bok, a cat called Freddie, plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!