An Eventful Week

The week began well enough with a concert in the pub/bar given by the duo 'Bio Baptiste LB' who played the double bass, bass guitar, guitar, voice and accordeon in their own particular slightly eccentric but enjoyable fashion: At the moment on mondays I open for the evening aperitif trade, except that it's beer and not your typical apero, then I close early, later in the evening I went down to Dave's bar in Paule, just the other side of Carhaix on the Rostrenen road; Dave is a conjuror, born in Caerphilly, but has moved around since, and whose father comes from Troedyrhiw in Merthyr Tydfil. I met up again with my new friends from the previous week in Callac, the one from Porth and the other from Darlington (Darlington was a 19th century iron town on the lines of Merthyr). A retired English drummer was holding court at the corner table, aiming the odd humerous jibe at his wife who was sitting next to him, although she was giving as good as she was getting. Before the end a boy came in wearing the Prince of Wales's feathers, which have nothing to do with Cymru/Wales but are worn by the National rugby team they should be replaced forthwith by the leek or the daffodil, particularly as the Prince is reclaiming them, he turned out to be Rhys Llewelyn from Aberporth who's living in nearby Le Moustoir, he told me that he'd heard about my pub and my speaking only Welsh and Breton within, perhaps that's why my British trade is so small considering the number of them living in the area. Same as last week, I drank a few coffees and a few ballons of beer before heading home sometime after 10 o'clock, one can't be too careful, people are being stopped and controlled by the police in Carhaix all the time these days. Tuesday afternoon saw me heading to Brest and the Gwenael Kerleo concert. I drove to the 'Port de Commerce', had a drink in 'Le Mouette' for the first time in thirty years, asked for directions to the 'Tara Inn' where the landlord is a friend of mine, it turned out to be just around the corner. There I asked to see Chris, but he was in Las Vegas, I asked for 'McGuigan's' which was up the road and run by my friend Sheridan from Belfast who I used to visit at 'Chez Dan's', or 'The Claddagh Inn' in Rennes; It is now the equally popular 'Westport Inn'; he was in Carhaix. He,s got a traditional inn, a bar with meals and bedrooms, I had intended staying there and had sent an e-mail in advance which they hadn't received, a film company had booked all the rooms so I would have to look elsewhere! I left my car at the port and climbed the steps to the centre, I need the exercise, all the more so now that I've stopped taking my tablets. I found the 'Salle Vauban', confirmed my place which I had reserved through facebook, and carried on up the 'Rue Jean Jaures' stopping for a home brew in the 'Taverne St. Martin', they have brewers boilers or cuves in the middle of the bar; I headed on to the 'Place Guerin' passing in front of the 'Triskell' now closed, and continued to the'Café de la Plage', hoping to meet up with friends and finding a place to stay, horror of horrors! the place was empty with electric wires hanging from the ceiling. What to do now? I walked down the hill to 'The Dubliners' that used to be owned by Joe Smith who has sadly passed on, but was carried on by his daughter, I thought I might have met someone there, but it's been sold on and wasn't the same place. Slightly disappointed I carried on to the concert, five minutes late losing my place because it was packed out, no importance, I always stay at the bar anyway. The barman was a bi-lingual Bangladeshi, I couldn't resist mentioning our curries back in Merthyr which were named after Indian ports where the Bangladeshi sailors regularly put down anchor. The concert was heavenly, the music sublime; I knew a few harpists back in Cymru/Wales and had been spoiled through often listening to Elinor Bennett raising funds for the Party, but this wasn't classical virtuoso, this was a feast of harp; harp-violin; harp-accordeon; harp-uillean pipes plus flutes, banjo and varied drums. When all the instruments came together there was a touch of Moving Hearts or Dan Ar Bras, or even Alan Stivell, but this was incomparably Gwenael Kerleo and a splendid celebration of 15 years on stage. After it was all over I went up to the bar for a few drinks and a chat, and whilst there, asked the barman whether there were room vacancies, which there were, so I booked a room. After checking my blood sugar level I found it far too high, told the barman to forget the room as I had to go for a very long intensive walk, I finished up at my car, driving back home and missing the Huelgoat turn-off on the way and getting lost, finally getting home an hour late. Wednesday passed by and thursday went along normally, with the finalising of my january accounts for Quimper the following morning. At 11.20p.m. I couldn't see anyone else coming in, so I arranged the fire-place by taking off the wood and putting out the fire, doing the till, locking the toilet door, stopping the music, putting out the heater, locking the second entrance door, and as I was turning the key in the front door the street lights went out indicating that it was bang on 11.30p.m., I came home, working for a while on the internet before retiring to my bed with the music on. At 2.45a.m. I was woken up by shouting, that there was a fire at the pub, that there was nothing left and that the firefighters wanted me there straight away. Thirty years of my life had gone up in smoke.