64 outandaboutlive.co.ukSeptember 2019
On the road...
The (mis)adventures of octogenarian motorhomer
Barrie Jamesand his long-suffering wifeSylviawho ha ve spent
more than 40years exploring thebyways of Europe
Manyyearsago, Ilearnthow todo magic
trickstoimpress mygrandchildren.
I never dreamed thatI would ever
demonstrate mynewly learntcraft to
fellow campers. But that’s justwhat I
did on alovely campsite called Roguennic in Brittanyin what
wasmy irst andlast public performanceandonethathad an
astonishing andfrightening twist at the end.
Brittanyis so convenient for us,asweliveclose toPlymouth
andthe BrittanyFerriesterminalso, weather permitting, wecan
sailon awhim(ah, one of the manybeneits of retirement). In
those days, wevisited this site twicea year.
Wehadbeen onsite foraboutsix daysand, asusual, hadmet
upwithold friends and made some new onesm.Motorhomers
are, after all, a naturally gregariousgroup;note how weall seem
toacknowledge eachother when onthe road.
Onthe evening in questionwe were invited tocliftopdrinkies
byan English couple who had anumber of continental friends,
oneof whomwas aconcert pianist, three were fromGermany
andtwo fromFrance.
he red wineandconversationwas lowing nicely and,
althoughmyfellow guests were foreign, theyspoke pretty
goodEnglish. However, occasionally therewere funny
misunderstandings.For example, the Frenchman asked why
I had asticking plaster onmyelbow.I replied, “Today, whilst
on ourbicycles, mywife waspeddlingtoo fast and,in tryingto
keepupwithher, I fell ofmymachine.” heGermanraisedan
enquiring eyebrow andthe Frenchmanexplainedtohimthatmy
wife hadbeen‘piddling’ toofast!
AtonepointI mentionedmygrandchildren andthe new skill
I waslearning fortheirentertainment.Atthis, agreatdeal of
interest was shown and Iwas asked toshow themsometricks.
I ran through myrepertoire andeventually cametomypièce de
résistance, aminiatureFrenchguillotine.
Myhost produced a carrot,which Iplaced intothe neck-rest
of the machine. I operatedthe device, the blade dropped and
dramatically cutthe vegetable cleanly intotwo pieces.
here was silenceasmyaudienceanticipatedwhat the
next questionwould be, most hadtheirhandsheld tightly and
protectively close totheirbodies, headswere lowered.
“MayI havea volunteer?”Nobodyspoke ormoved, but then
the Germanlady, namedRenata, bravely oferedheringer
fo rward. You could heara pin drop.
Wineglasseswere restedandmost of ourgathering leaned
forward toget abetter view. Surreptitiously Ichecked anddouble-checkedthe safetydeviceasthe blade really was capable
of injuring ahumaninger.Satisied, Ibanged downontothe
bladerelease.he bladelashed downfollowedbya screamof
anguish fromRenata, this was followedbycriesof alarmfrom
everyonepresent.Renata clutched her hand toher body.
I will never forget the anguish Ifelt, mychest ached with
anxiety andpassingcampersstopped andwere equally alarmed
at her dreadful primordial scream.
henRenata showed usher hand,therewas another gaspas
weall sawthatindeed oneinger wasmissingat theirst joint.
Shocked andconfusedI thenrealisedthat therewas noblood.
Our gathering leanedconcernedly forwardand as one man
rushed to ofer help,Renata’s anguished faceslowly turned into
a sly smilesayingin English witha Germanaccent, “Manyyears
ago in Berlin I lost zisinger ina machine, but see,zehand I used
today was zeozzer von...”
Concernturned torelief thenlaughter, I feltsickandit tooka
whiletorecover. Who said Germanshavenosenseof humour?
he contents of the winebottlessanklower, asdid the sun.
I amalwaysthrilled to see the suninally dippingintothe
sea and wasnow enjoyingthe general air of companionship,
contentment andrelection.
Onebyone wedispersedand,whilst Sylvia and Iwere not
drunk, just alittle tiddly and totally content,wewalked handin
handbacktoourgreatlittle homeonwheels andponderedthe
evening’s events.
he last thing Iremember was Sylvia murmuring,“It’s a good
job you did not choose the concert pianist,” andmegigglingas I
fell asleep.MAGIC ON A CLIFFTOP
Performingmagic –withunforeseencons
equences