To avoid the gridlock caused by the state visit of the Chinese President took an early flight back from Paris. The Champs Elysees festooned with flags. Got to the airport in plenty of time only to discover that the unions were blockading the terminal - yet another strike over the hike in the retirement age. The traffic wasn't moving slowly - it just wasn't moving. Out of the cab on the flyover and a twenty minute jog through the seried ranks of riot police and Compagnie Republicaine de Securite to check in. Miraculously, the shuttle to Toulouse was only delayed by quarter of an hour.Next to me on the plane a young man who hadn't visited a barbers in some time. Straight after take off he suddenly produces a rucksack from under the seat. First he draws out a large slice of raspberry cream pie which he rapidly devours. Then he forages some more and pulls out an envelope. He first sniffs the front of the envelope then turns it around and smells the back. Then he opens it , pulls out the letter inside and repeats the process - inhaling the scent on the front , then turning it around and inhaling deeeply from the other side. Satisfied, he then let out a low moan of ecstasy and fell deeply asleep, letter still unread, in his hands. How amazing that in the era of e-mails young French lovers still send each other perfumed letters. Mark you, no self respecting Anglo-Saxon male would be caught dead inhaling a perfumed letter in public. Another reminder that the French are different.
Wilf is in the airport terminal waiting for me. Having played with the sliding doors and introduced himself to three little old ladies he has got bored with the wait and has turned on his back and is snoring gently. In legs akimbo mode he is quite oblivious to the smiles and laughter of the other people who are waiting in the arrivals hall. As a special reward for his patience he has a long, unhurried, tyre christening walk through the car park. Citroens, Peugeots, Renaults, all investigated and marked for future reference - "Wilf woz 'ere ".
PS. If you get a chance please drop in to www.twospecialwires.blogspot.com who have a very caring message for all animal lovers.
Was your fellow passenger in fact part dog? (Shaggy, likes sniffing, not at all self-conscious, the evidence is there...)
ReplyDeleteCheers, Gail and Bertie.
I miss the art of letter writing! It is rather sweet that someone still enjoys the art of reading and writing letters, even if most guys wouldn't be caught sniffing them in public.
ReplyDeleteI am not surprised that Wilf charmed the others waiting in the terminal. I doubt that there's anyone anywhere that he coudln't charm!
Wilf - we think it is great that you get to be part of the greeting committee at the airport.
ReplyDeleteOh Wilfee, I do believe I detect a wee amount of sauce bolognaise lingering around your beautiful smoosh. So glad your humans are all back in place.
ReplyDeleteHow nice to be welcomed by Wilf!
ReplyDeleteI've saved all the e-mails Aaron has sent me during our years together, but its not the same as a nice hand-written letter... How absolutely lovely!
Sam
I actually thought it was quite romantic (but weird) to sit next to an envelope sniffing passenger... try that on a US flight! Also enjoyed your post about the lady with the Maltese... that could have been me, years ago, with my small white poodle Suzie (RIP)... pre-911, she was allowed to sit on my lap and loved to look out the window at the clouds... Miss her to this day. xo
ReplyDeleteOoooh you're right Camille, it is some sauce bolognaise for sure ! I was asking myself what was orange on this pretty face... Cuddles sweet Wilf. Love especially the first photo, so so cute. Thanks for sharing Angus.
ReplyDeleteHi Angus and Wilf,
ReplyDeletePerfumed letters. It is good to know that there are still people who use these to stay in touch.
We are happy to read that you were welcomed by Wilf at the airport and he also got his share of tires to mark.
Have a good weekend there!
Love,
Piappies Fudgie, Princess, Frappie, Mocha, Sugar, Wai-Pai & Wai-Max
Hmmm...maybe love is a drug?
ReplyDeletelife is good for Wilf. we love it.
ReplyDeleteAre you sure the letter wasn't impregnated with cocain?
ReplyDeleteWilf, as always, has given us a smile for the day.
XXXOOO Daisy, Kendra & Bella
The French should be here in the States. There's talk of raising our retirement age to 70! That is such a laughable number. How absurd.
ReplyDeleteScout wishes that he could have helped Wilf with the tires - he'd even take an extra drink of water to make sure he had plenty of ammunition!
Love to hear that some people still write love letters and to read about Wilf at the airport causing such smiles.
ReplyDeletetake care
Clive and Murray
You know, I was just thinking about this -- it's a good thing you post everyday. Just so that we know that Wilf made it through another day and is still enjoying life. But you know that if you miss a day, we're all going to be upset and think the worst.
ReplyDeleteYou sure do travel a lot with your job! I'm still trying to figure out what you do for a living.
That part about the guy sniffing his letter made me laugh. I wonder why he didn't read it before falling asleep.
i'm glad your flight home wasn't too delayed despite the new strike. i couldn't help laughing a little at your fellow letter sniffing passenger...i do think it's sweet, but i couldn't help but think of those scratch and sniff stickers that i collected when i was a kid.
ReplyDeleteoh, and i also think i detect some spaghetti sauce tinting on wilf's sweet woozle! :)
the booker man and asa's mama
Another wonderful post, Angus. I love the image of Wilf on his back snoring in the terminal. He is a character of epic proportions in my mind!
ReplyDeleteYou write so expressively - I loved the story of the Frenchman inhaling the scent of his lover's letter.
From the title and the first picture, we thought Wilf was swooning [literally] over a perfumed letter sent to him. Of course, the perfume that would appeal to Wilf would be quite different from the perfume that had the young swain so euphoric. Reminds mama of that famous note from Napoleon to Josephine: "I am coming. Do not bathe." Yep, the French really are different [although genetically N. was Italian].
ReplyDeleteMaybe a little French has seeped into Wilf? He reminds us more and more of a canine Maurice Chevalier, with a gentle smile on his face and a calm determination to enjoy every tidbit life has to offer. Thank heaven for little dogs...[and big dogs and mid-sized dogs].
Jed & Abby
Was it written in violet ink?
ReplyDelete