The House Husband

The morning was spent lazing around St Malo, walking the walls, having coffee. We checked out of the highly recommended Hotel Chateaubriand at 11 and caught a bus to the station where we were to pick up the hire car. This all went remarkably smoothly, possibly because Mirinda sat and read her book, only rising to sign where she had to sign, and I took care of all the formalities. Anyway, we didn’t take long and were soon on the road in our little light grey Corsa.

Getting out of St Malo is always a bit of a pain – lots of traffic, many roads to choose from – but we were soon beyond the snarling traffic and pootling down the motorways of Brittany, on our way to St Philibert.

Lunch was had following a rather bad navigation error which had us travelling in the opposite direction to that which we wanted to go. Fortunately I spotted the error and Mirinda suggested we rely on her ‘little friend’ for the rest of the trip, which possibly saved us from divorce. I should explain that Mirinda’s ‘little friend’ is her iPhone and it has a version of SatNav on it. It knows where we are (sort of) and can show us how to get to places (also sort of). While it led us into a huge mess in Ploёrmel, most of the journey was fine and we pulled into the small town of St-Meen-le-Grande, which has a very old abbey that is not mentioned in either of the guide books we have.

The town hall in the centre of St-Meen-le-Grande

We went for a wander down to the abbey first – stretching our legs after the hours spent in the car. It’s an 11th – 12th century abbey and, while pretty unremarkable on the whole (it actually just looks like a church) there is a wonderful series of frescos in a small chapel off the main aisle. Had it not been for Mirinda’s insistence, I would have missed them. They were fantastic. Clearly I shall have to find out some stuff about this abbey as there were no guides in the place (in English or in French).

We had lunch in a small bar. The woman wasn’t too pleased (I think their lunch time ended at 2pm and I trundled up to the bar at 2:15) but I managed to sweet talk her husband in my poor excuse for French, into getting us some food. We sat out on the footpath and enjoyed our drinks, Mirinda her salad and me my Croque Madame, which is a Croque Monsieur with an egg on top.

The temperature, according to a roadside thermometer, has risen above 30° and I’m rather glad the car has air conditioning although it should be against my principals to use it. We drove through the stunning French countryside until we reached the small fishing village of St Philibert. The directions given to us by the owner were excellent and we managed to find the place without a problem.

The room is big, light and airy, compliments of the pair of big windows that look out over the river. It didn’t take long for us both to drift off into sun drenched slumber for an hour or so. We were then into the shower (which is fine but couldn’t possibly compare with the Chateaubriand shower…no shower ever will compare) and off to La Trinite-sur-mer, a lovely little port.

Some of the boats moored at Trinite-sur-Mer

The first thing that strikes you about the place is the amount of boats. According to the Michelin guide, there are 1200 moorings and I think most of them were filled. It is like a forest of masts, a yachty woodland. Incredible. So many boats. Of course this set Mirinda off on her ‘let’s buy a boat and sail round the world’ thing.

We rather fancied The Quai, a cute little restaurant opposite the marina but it was clearly very popular and, therefore very full. We wandered along the avenue until we found a place that seemed ok. It was, basically, a bar that served food. However, the food was lovely and the service was splendid…what more could you want? Mirinda had her moules (this time with Roquefort sauce) and I had an interesting tuna thing in a curried béchamel sauce with broccoli! Yay! I love the broccoli.

After dinner we strolled around the marina and the market that was just packing up and ended up at the ice cream seller. A lovely double cone with pistachio and caramel, just about finished my day off. An odd thing about the main street through Trinite-sur-Mer is the raised medium strip that divides the traffic. It has bollards at either end, split only for pedestrian crossings. Just in front of the Tabac, there is a fairly long section that is just right for a car. In England, people park half on the footpath when they have to just run in and buy fags or whatever, in Trinite-sur-Mer they drive their car up onto the medium strip, scraping the bottoms of their cars in the process and sit astride it. We saw this happen a number of times so it wasn’t a one-off. The mechanics and panel beaters must love them for it.

I realise that I haven’t mentioned the weather! It has been glorious blue skies and sunshine so far. True holiday weather. Tomorrow we’re going to brave Carnac and take in a few ancient alignments.

Just before talking about St Katharine Docks, I’d like to share a quote. It comes from Paloma Faith, a singer who has a new album out at the moment (very good it is too). She was previously a magician’s assistant. She was asked in an interview what were the highs and lows of the job. The highs were to do with doves and not worth repeating but the low was “Sitting in the darkness, in a small box for half an hour with nothing but a rabbit for company.” It did make me chuckle. Anyway…

Prior to my mercy dash yesterday, I spent lunch time with Mirinda, wandering around St Katharine Docks. What an amazing place. Lots of big, expensive boats sitting, posing in the marina. Converted warehouses, houseboats, Starbucks in a rotunda, council estates…it has everything.

Here is a watercolour of what it used to look like…well, the painting dates from 1985 but is how it was supposed to have looked before the Germans ruined it:

Old tinted drawing of St Katharine Docks

It’s changed a bit but the water is in the same place. The buildings are still there, just tarted up a bit, and lots of accommodation has been added, along with speciality shops and eateries. If you want to see a bigger version of the picture, you can see it here.

The building about halfway up and to the right, is Ivory House, which is definitely still there. In fact, it’s in the photo below, the building to the extreme left. Also, Mirinda is sitting where that big old masted boat is in the painting:

Mirinda asking her iPhone where we were

The history is interesting. In the 12th century, St Katharine’s hospital was built on the site and it remained until around 1828 when the docks were built in its place. It was one of those grand Victorian schemes to boost production while over working the workers. And getting rich. It was rather short lived though. because of the depth of the marina and the lock that kept the water level down, big ships could never dock there so it was bypassed in favour of bigger and better docks.

And then, as usual in lots of parts of London, the Germans made a big mess of it during the war. It sat looking squalid, just used as a marina, for many years. Then the Greater London Council took over and created, what has been called “…a model example of successful urban redevelopment.” This was started in 1970.

The amazing thing is that it doesn’t LOOK 1970s at all! This is a good thing. People claim that the 70s was the decade that fashion forgot and in a lot of ways they are so right. But not when it comes to St Katharine Docks. A wonderful place.

Anyway, the reason we were there was because we are seriously considering buying Mirinda’s flat here – the studio she’s in at the moment is not for sale at quite the right price – but we wanted to check it out first. So we met for our usual Wednesday lunch.

After mincing down Mincing Lane we followed the Great Tower Road, passed the Hung, Drawn and Quartered pub and into the tourist melee that is the Tower of London. St Katharine Docks is just the other side of the Tower. A very short but gorgeous walk to work for Mirinda.

We spent a good hour wandering around, pleased with the location, the environment, everything, really. And then headed back where I bade her farewell and took the train back home. This is really an excellent way to see London.

I just thought I’d include this photo as well as it sort of sums up London, really. Though I always think of Jerry on The Good Life, struggling to work across it every morning, from Surbiton.

Tower Bridge from St Katharine Docks