A good girl
Normandy is beautiful. We were there at a campsite. After a generous meal in the village. With a glass of illegally locally fired Calva. A motorcyclist - recovery: motorcyclist arrived on the campsite. A sleek model in fashionable leather. On a pimped Ducati Monster. With a Dutch plate. She stopped at the hikers' hut across ours. Took off her helmet. After she unbuttoned her ponytail, shook off an unlikely amount of curls.
It was a motorcyclist
We raised the glasses in her direction. Fifteen minutes later she came out. In shorts and T-shirt. She rocked loosely towards us. Greeted us in Amerikengels with the exuberance as we know it from game presenters at the commercial motorbikes and virgin EO ladies. “Hi guys! Had a nice ride today? ”She was lucky that we were not local motards. The French often react rather pissed off when they are greeted in American English. Whether we had had such a great day? Mwahhh. Broken clutch cable and a dog hit. Exhaust bend burn on a calf. Could therefore be better. But went well. Now even again very well. Because good food. Calvaatje there. Fine.
A girl with a drive
The girl had the emphatically driven, noisily positive 'presence' and 'attitude' of an at least 30-year-old Randstedelinge who, in her own eyes, was successful. She was not sadly curious about the fate of the collided dog. That is suspicious for a woman. Used words like 'mieters', 'vet kewl' and 'cruel'. And "Fantas alwaystic! " A kind of 'Rutte meets TMF' language. Told she had a break. The work had become 'to much' for a while. The kind of girl that we, as simple members of the simpler-assembled kind of flakes, get to grips with. She reminded us of someone. But we don't watch enough TV to place her. So someone like that. Maybe a Dutch person. Or a BV person. Because in Flanders, we are often there. But not Jantje Smit. Because no boy. No Yolanthe with that difficult surname too.
Calvados is a kind of apple juice ...
We poured her three fingers soothing Calva. The local Calvados does not have the normalized 40 degrees alcohol, but has at least 60 brave percentages of that beautiful product. We raised the glasses. You should skip Calva in one go. She knew that too and she bravely participated. It calmed her down considerably for quite some time. Women are less able to tolerate alcohol than overweight male motorcyclists. This applies even more to slim women.
but then with spirit
She drank the second glass more cautiously, but she still missed the message of those twenty bonus percentages of extra alcohol. After the third glass, she was out. We took her twins under the carefully shaved armpits and carried her to her cabin. Put her in bed. Covered her. Satisfied we went back to our table. Poured in again. Cut off a couple of hard sausage and cheese chunks with the old camping bayonet.
Normandy is beautiful.
But after the meal it's time for reflection.
Not for chatter.
