13.4.1976 Le Havre

Le Havre was different this year – at least it did not smell so much. Everyone was very subdued – or more like death tired – for a few hours on the coach until rudely awakened by Radio 2 (ugh!).

Stopped at the Cathedral town of Chartres in the afternoon, where my first French words were, characteristically, “une bière, sup”. These were repeated a few more times by the end of the trip. Made the mistake of allowing “Rich” to limpet himself to our little group. He is so bigoted and took a sort of pathological delight in insulting French people. Also a few of the fourth and fifth forms have brought over this sad attitude.

The Cathedral was impressive to everyone but me, in one of my more philistinic moods. I was irritated by large parties of loud mouthed Yanks, with their large breasts and obese wallets. I was disheartened to discover that the Germans are equally noisy and got the distinct feeling that what they were saying translates well in “Gee, isn’t this just great” or “Waaaal, back in the States...”.

Was greeted in Blois by an unbelievably Spartan room – (or others may say shabby/bare) – which lead me to a sigh of relief when finally on my way to a bar. After a two hour trek, a bar was found, occupied by only British (all the locals had been forced out). Mild-medium inebriation.