PHILINFRANCE

Rare, perhaps, but not unheard of, certainly as far as I am concerned. Back in the late 1970s, I used to play Sunday morning football and, in order to reach our home pitch, it was necessary to cross St. Paul’s in Bristol, passing via City Road or Newfoundland Road, both of which at the time were largely inhabited by Caribbean families. On numerous occasions, I have recounted to friends and family, the vicarious pleasure I felt in seeing whole families of black people, dressed in their Sunday best, walking proudly to Church. I am not too proud to admit that, on occasion, I had a tear in my eye when I saw, and frequently heard, these families, sometimes extended families of perhaps ten or even twenty people, adults and children alike, walking proudly to whichever Church it was in which they were headed, practicing their hymns en route. I assure you it used to be a glorious sight and, likewise, I don’t recall having seen a similar spectacle amongst white people. Here in France, I frequently come across markets catering mainly for the black African population. They are, for me, a wonderful sight, but apart from the array of ‘strange’ fruits, vegetables and spices, the bright colours of the clothing the women wear is amazing - in an extremely positive way. I encounter Arab and black people on a daily basis, and have no problem with either, and why should I? Nevertheless, I can’t help but notice certain traits, peculiar to these people, traits that were not common among the white people with whom I grew up in Bristol. Have you ever heard a black African man laugh? The sound is amazing; a deep, roaring noise that comes from the pit of his stomach and seems to make everything around him shake. It always makes me smile, just like that old song ‘The Laughing Policeman’ often makes me chuckle. So, various personal observations of black people, which I assure you I don’t consider negative and mention only because they stick in my mind as being different from most white people I know. You must draw your own conclusions as to whether my observations and comments are racist.

Hi Porto, Many Thanks for your response, and my apologies for my tardy acknowledgment and reply. Firstly, No, we have not already done the centre, nor have we ever visited Porto. We have visited the Algarve and Madeira, both of which we loved, and I visited Lisbon many years ago on business. This time we intend to spend a week in Porto, some days in the town itself and others exploring the neighbouring areas, including the northern suburbs as you suggest - and lazy lunches in local fish restaurants is very much our thing. We are both keen on walking, so envisaged taking a metro or even a train away from the centre and walking back, preferably along the coast - my wife has this strange desire to walk the Camino Portugues, but that is probably for another time. We shall certainly try and take up some of your suggestions, though, and Thanks for your help.

Ha, I used to use sewing machine oil on my Technics SL 150 deck, with its Sharp cartridge - I shall have to check on the specs.

Hi Stortz, I understand your question and its underlying point, but I assure you that there was no racist intent in my description of these particular ladies of the night. I suppose you would have had to have been there to understand the situation and, to understand my wife’s ultimate amusement - loud, mocking laughter (at me) if truth be known. As I mentioned, we left the restaurant at what was probably about 22H00, and I lingered behind my wife and young daughters to smoke a cigarette. Suddenly, about half a dozen black and buxum young ladies - I say this because they were black and buxom, and also wearing extremely short skirts and very décolleté tops approached me and tried to drag me off for some (presumably) sordid encounter. From their accents, I could tell that they were West Africans and, in French and in no uncertain terms, I told them that I was just not interested. My wife and, unfortunately, my daughters heard the commotion and turned around to see what was going on. As I mentioned, my wife (who also speaks fluent French) heard the conversation and found my protestations most amusing. I doubt that, were a single white prostitute to have asked me, surreptitiously, whether I was ‘looking for it’, this would have had the same effect. No offence taken, but hopefully this answers your question.

Too many posters to reply to you all, but here are my views. Firstly, for clarification, my youngest daughter studied in Sevilla for a year and, later, worked in Madrid for six months, so our visits to both Madrid and Andalusia were assisted by a knowledgeable local guide who, of course, speaks the language fluently (and knew some of the best local restaurants). Barcelona, frankly, I found disappointing and edgy. I felt uncomfortable walking in the town, especially las Ramblas, having to constantly keep an eye out for the notorious pickpockets and scammers. The worst, though, was one evening when I went out for dinner with my wife and daughters. I used to smoke at the time and, after dinner, I chose to walk a few metres behind them so I could enjoy a post dinner cigarette. Would you believe it, much to my wife’s initial disgust and then amusement at my embarrassment, I was importuned by several black prostitutes! Madrid is just a beautiful city, and, in complete contrast to Barcelona, a pleasure to walk around, both day and night. Andalucia, of course, is a world apart. I enjoyed Malaga, both the town itself and the numerous tapas bars. Granada, as @Kid in the Riot mentioned, was interesting to see free tapas being offered with every drink. We checked in to our hotel late morning and thought we would enjoy a nice glass of white wine in a small bar on a dusty square around the corner. Our wine arrived, accompanied by a large plate of fried aubergines with honey. Absolutely amazing, and free! Oh, and of course there’s also some Moorish building that is quite nice to look around - best to book ahead, though. Sevilla. A magnificent town that requires its own, dedicated post.

Ha, I knew it was Hinds, but when I said I couldn’t remember which of the two, I was referring to Cheltenham or Wrexham, rather than TB or FH.

I may be wrong - it was a few years ago now - but I am pretty sure we signed him from Luton at the same time as Freddy Hinds. FH scored a cracking goal away to Watford in the season of great League Cup run, but then slipped down the pecking order here before being loaned out to Cheltenham and then Wrexham. I can’t remember which one of the two it was, but I am pretty sure his loan was cut short because of an attitude problem, which I seem to recall reading was a touch of ‘Billy Big Bollox’.

From memory, he did exactly the same thing away to West Ham in the FA Cup.

I bought them second hand in 1975/6? for £100 from a charming old chap in Clifton, used them in the UK for a few years, took them with me to the Middle East for a few years, back and forth from/to the UK/France until two years ago, when I sold them to a relatively young man, who bought them for €400 and told me that, as far as he was concerned, he had bought some quality speakers at a bargain price. Whatever, we shook hands on a mutually satisfactory deal.

Even Denis Howell couldn’t help.

I wasn’t going to respond, but thought I would just seek your comments out of curiosity. I recently moved house (downsized) and decided to sell a cherished pair of speakers I bought back in the mid 1970s - some KEF Concertos. Has anyone on here ever heard of them and, if so, what is your opinion?

My wife and I are off to Porto for the last week of May. We have booked a very comfortable central hotel, but are intending to explore outside the town centre itself. Does anybody on here, @Porto Red perhaps, have any recommendations such as trips to nearby beaches/islands? We are familiar with, and love, the local cuisine, but any restaurant recommendations would be appreciated. Many Thanks in advance.

I have visited ‘La Ville Rose’ on numerous occasions, mostly for business reasons and, unfortunately, generally just for a day or two. I do remember two magnificent meals there, though; one in the centre (the street directly opposite the railway station) and, memorably, in a relatively small village a few kilometres outside. In the town centre restaurant, I was advised by my client to try the ‘magret en croute de sel’. I was extremely sceptical, but it was magnificent - the first and only time I have tried it. The village restaurant remains one of my favourite experiences (of traditional French restaurants). It was early lunchtime, and I had a few hours to spare, so stopped in this small village, intending to have a light lunch before my final meeting at 16H00. Unfortunately, I was tempted by the ‘Plat du Jour’, a duck cassoulet, with which I ordered a pichet (25cl) of the local red wine. So far, so good. And then the owner/chef popped out to serve my starter (some homemade duck terrine) and my wine, explaining that the main course would be ready in a few minutes. Upon hearing my accent, he sat down to chat (and share my pichet of wine). Well, the pichet was finished pretty quickly, and he soon returned with a replacement, 50cl of a better wine, that would go better with my duck cassoulet and which, of course, we again shared - still no main course. In fact, said my new found friend, he had some wonderful saucisses de Toulouse, which he would add to my cassoulet. Oh, and of course, he would also replenish the now empty pichet. And so it went on. Finally, my cassoulet arrived (and it was truly magnificent), and I managed to leave at about 15H30 - the restaurant was long empty and, would you believe it, the lovely manager refused payment! I slipped a generous tip under the place mat, but this remains one of my favourite ever meals, both for the food itself and the overall experience. Can you imagine something similar in the UK?

Reverting to the subject of ‘Indian’ restaurants in France, and following on from the responses from @ralphindevon and @frenchred, the poor ones to which I referred earlier were mainly Bangladeshi or even Pakistani. The two or three good ones were Indian managed, although, interestingly, none of them had an English background. My main complaint was not so much the spice level, something that is easily rectified, but the generic sauces. On one occasion, in a restaurant managed and staffed by Indians, I commented that it was a shame there was no lamb Rogan Josh on the menu (just various lamb ‘curries); the manager stated that it would be no problem to prepare me a Rogan Josh. Et Voilà, two minutes later, our dishes arrived; my wife’s chicken Tikka Masala and my lamb Rogan Josh - with what looked and tasted like identical sauces .

Out of curiosity, did you ever try any Indian restaurants whilst you were living in France? I have tried quite a few, most of which were embarrassingly poor, but I have also found two, perhaps three at a pinch, that have been surprisingly good - all in Paris/Île de France.