Known French criminals

My idea of a dinner dance is one that involves a formal evening, black tie and possibly a band, but almost certainly a DJ and a very informal style of dancing. Not so in France. Last night Bob and Lynne very kindly took us to a war veterans annual dinner organised by FNACA. At a rough guess, this probably stands for (excuse the spelling) Federation Nationale de Ancient Combatants d'Algerie. What a wonderful evening, so different to anything that I have previously experienced. It was held in the salle polyvalente in downtown Sumène. A large multipurpose hall, which could in no way be described as cosy, being lit by modern 'old style' fluorescent lamps, regulation magnolia coloured paintwork and a toilet with the largest completely see through panoramic window imaginable. The four of us reduced the average age to somewhere around 75. This was a group of people with but two objectives, to dance and to enjoy themselves. These people could really dance. I have never seen such a large group of people all very capable of dancing to such a variety of formal styles and to such a high standard. It put my couple of minutes of shuffling to shame and frankly made me want to do better. The band (the trio actually) knew exactly what they were doing. There was one female singer, who kept nipping off stage to re-emerge in ever more fantastical outfits. The styles ranged from 'Folies Bergere' to 'Carmen Miranda', and with each change came an appropriate change of music and dance style. Brilliant! The other two band members were male and they interchanged instruments, ranging from the ever present synthesizer, to trumpet, to sax, accordion and clarinet. Excellent. At one point the accordionist came down off stage into the hall and led a series of 'old soldier', lets-kill-a-few-Algerians type songs and later some Corsican folk songs. Very, very, enjoyable. I can't remember any event in the UK that I have attended where participants were so serious about their dancing. The dance floor was full before, during and after the meal. Dancing is taken so seriously that dance clubs attend as well, in order to give their members the opportunity to practice in real-time and also to help raise money for 'old soldiers'. I remember with fondness the audience dancing to Strangers in the Night played on a trumpet and a Paso Doble played on accordion and castanets. They were still going strong at 01.30 when we left to relieve the dogs (don't you mean for the dogs to relieve themselves? - Ed.) A night of excellent, but simple pleasures and one I will remember for a long time.

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I have mentioned random police checks before and I have been pleased to bore anyone who would listen about my theory that they only occurred between the very civilised hours of 14.00 (after lunch) and 17.00, before going home for dinner. Every single police roadblock that I had encountered has happened like this. NOT SO. There I was rather smugly driving home at 01.40 through the very sleepy little town of St Hippolyte du Fort when at the roundabout on the south of the town we were stopped by a small army of gendarmes. It was freezing cold, minus 3c, and naturally there were very few cars around. Miss Gendarme signaled for us to pull over and turn off the engine. She said something that I didn't understand and when I pointed out that I was English and could she repeat her request (instruction) she proceeded to ask me, in perfect English, for my driving licence. Not wanting to bowl her over with my breath (I'd been eating a lot of garlic) I decided not to enter into any deep meaningful conversation and nearly wet myself as she waived us on and wished me a very pleasant rest of the morning. Further round the roundabout another group of gendarmes, armed with rifles at the ready, presumably to pick off any recalcitrant motorists that decided not to stop, glowered as we drove past. Very scary.

The conversation naturally then centred on what the hell so many of them were doing there in freezing temperatures, at that unearthly hour. Jan helpfully suggested that perhaps they were on the look out for known French criminals and because I was neither known, nor French, I didn't exactly fit that profile. We shall never know, but it was a salutary lesson and I'm still shaking. One of my well known theories has been blown out of the water. Bum.