Mons & Cambrai 2009

The wait is over and the next instalment of the NMBS trips is here. Those of you who have been lucky enough to have read Kevin’s wonderful book, Four Journeys will know that even best laid plans and trips usually go wrong. Amazingly the Mons and Cambrai trip went relatively hassle free. Maybe a few cross words from older members in Wellington’s HQ, the lack of a DVD player in the Gite and Stuart’s face when he saw pig’s trotters, but everything else seemed okay.

The Ardennes trip missed a vital factor and it was a bonus this year that we had it back, namely Stuart – who had missed the Ardennes, so it was a welcome back Stu.

The trip down to Dover was easy peasy and the long muted and awaited go on the M6 (Toll) happened as there was tailbacks and closure further down the normal M6.

The trip was quicker and smoother as the NMBS now was a “Ciggie Free” zone since Steve finally gave up the weed. Stuart and Kevin had stayed at Steve’s and once Gerry (with passport) and Lance had arrived the long wait was over and after hitting the M60 we headed to the M6 (and the aforementioned Toll) And were witness to some amazing sunrises in the mist. Finally after a few wee-stops (known in the NMBS as “Tacticals”) we were leaving the dreaded M25 on the way to Dover in good time. Indeed looking at the possibility of an earlier Ferry.

This year we did the straight forward thing and went Dover to Calais and then straight to the Gite. For the first year we did not christen the Gite the Ponderosa for some reason. But for the next week it was home.

It was in a small village called Bruille lez Marchiennes, which was like most French villages apart from a huge railway sidings nearby. (and for any railway geek out there why do the French have "Purple" lights on their signals? They have the normal Red, Yellow Green, but also Purple). Bruille lez Marchiennes was quite large, but surprisingly lacking pubs.

There was one there, but (no surprise here) it opened when the French owner had smoked enough Giantes and drank enough Ricard before he could be bothered. When we got to Bruille lez Marchiennes (will be called Bruille from this point on) most of us did the hard work. A certain member, who shall remain incognito ran to the best room, dropped his bags and went to the pub, whilst the other 4 non-Scottish members did the work of unpacking and preparing. The Gite was like the one in the Ardennes and the Somme, okay - but very dated.

Think a bit of BBC 2's 'Victorian Farm' and you will have an idea of the gite - although the woman on Victorian Farm would have clean the cooking utensils better! There was a massive ramshackle of odds and sods to cook with and the Chef of the tour, Steve was less than happy and even Gerry the other chef who is less grumpy than Steve with a poor kitchen agreed. This was the first Gite where we had to BUY glasses to drink from as Kevin likes beer in tins (Fussy Bleeder) The bedrooms were basic. No en-suite this time, although a small wash bowel.

Stuart became a smorgasbord for midges, fleas and bedbugs. I do think he was unhappy with the French and their hygiene skills in the bed linen department, although no one else seemed to suffer, maybe Frenchie Bugs loves da Stewie Blood!

Bruille was ideal being in the middle of the two places we were visiting, Mons – to the North East, in Belgium and south of us Cambrai, in France, so we were right on the border. The added bonus was that the city of Valeciennes was also near, The German army occupied the town in 1914, and it was only retaken after bitter fighting in 1918, by British and Canadian troops (one of whose soldiers, Sergeant Hugh Cairns was honoured in 1936 when the city named an avenue after him).

Doing both Mons and Cambrai tied up some loose ends for the NMBS and trips to the Western Front. Mons as it was the start and the end of the war, Cambrai as it linked up with the Somme and the Hindenberg Line.

M6 at Dawn

Other small gripes about the gite were that the owner had not given us enough Gas to cook with and water had to be turned on a few hours after we arrived.

Again the myth that us Englanders are Lazy and cannot speak other languages was blown out of the water as for the 4th Gite in a row the owner could not speak a word of English apart from "Jedward" and "In Cash". So it was upto the Big French speakers of Gerry and Lance to sort out the issues and the Gite. Although Steve did get roped into a chat about the weather with the owner.

For some odd reason there was a strange lad who was watching us. In front of the Gite was a small courtyard and then there was a carport and a brick wall, so we were enclosed. In the courtyard this lad aged about 8 just cycled around and around and around on his mountain bike. Kev and Steve sussed him straight away that he was a wrong 'un and was upto no good. Stuart, being Stuart thought there was some Belgium-type fiddler ring knocking about with "Le Leonarde Fairclough" and this kid escaped. More likely it was some bored kid who had never seen so many fat English men in his life other than on a translated episode of Corrie. That or a French Midwich Cuckoo.

Further mither ensued with the lack of DVD player. Kevin, who usually graciously brings his didn't as the blurb from the Gite website claimed it had one. There we was, class DVDs to play and no DVD. But there again, Lance and Gerry certainly wasn't keen on watching the Best of Top Gear, as both have a pathological hatred of Sir Jeremy of Clarkson (Gerry will never forgive for him mentioning Paul Scholes in a funny way). But Kevin, Stuart and Steve think the Top Gear adventures are fab.

So we had to buy a DVD player. Now because we bought it in a French Supermarche, it has a French plug, therefore it is now the Official DVD of the NMBS. Later in the week the DVD gave us chance to watch a quaint little WWI film that Steve had brought called "Joyeux Noel" and Frankie Boyle live DVD. Within record time of Frankie Boyle DVD going on, Lance the critic's lip extended and curled and moan "What's this F**king shit" By the end a few begrudging laughs and "Now that was funny" passed the hard critical lips of Lance. Gerry just could not believe how naughty Frankie is and almost felt ashamed at laughing.

More Information to follow soon....

Mons Town Centre