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Un tour de France 2/2

by DoDo Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:09:59 AM EST

The train-diary-ish travelogue about me chasing the Paris–Brest–Paris cycle race in the rain continues!

Early morning in Quédillac, Bretagne (Brittany): a series 26000 "SYBIC" with a track-work crew train zooms past cyclists freezing in the drizzle


As before, apologies for the weather-related excessive railway focus and low quality of the photos. (But check the Train Blogging index page for a (hopefully) complete list of ET diaries and stories related to railways and trains.)

In Part 1, I told about my way from Budapest to Le Mans, about French trains (good) and schedules (bad), about a first cold day without proper clothing, about my hilarious first attempts at using French, and other things. In a parallel light rail diary, I told about development in Strasbourg, Le Mans and other places.


After a conveniently early but rather sparse breakfast in my hotel in Rennes, I set off for a ride along the length of beautiful Bretagne in pre-dawn darkness. Morning broke under a steely grey sky towards St. Brieuc, in time when the more scenic parts came. And then, on the last 50 km towards Brest, as if we crossed into another universe: the Wwstern tip of Brittany was under a cloudless sky, in summer sunshine!

Brest: high above the port and the bay, two TGV Atlantique sets are parked on a side of the railway terminal

This was the weather in all of the Bretagne when I holidayed there four years ago, so it also felt a bit like time travel. And back under the rain on the return journey, its memory was like that of a dream.

For some reason, the bike race checkpoint in Brest was out in the north-eastern suburbs, I wasn't in the downtown or the harbour. But on the return journey to Rennes, I stopped in Morlaix. It's a fantastic old town, highly recommended: it's in a deep U-valley (and its branches) around where the river opens into an estuary, with old city buildings below and Breton farmhouses with fruit trees in terraced gardens on the valley sides, and one giant old viaduct.

The mighty railway viaduct over Morlaix. 14 spans, 292 m long between the sides of the valley, 62 m above the shore of the Dossen

A TGV from Brest leaves the viaduct of Morlaix on its way to Paris, high above the old city's cathedral

I don't have much more photos from the city, protecting the lens from the rain.

Another TGV for Paris runs through the station of Morlaix. Notice the work train on the left: it is headed by two ex-German-Railways diesels. A breach of the formerly impenetrable Franco-German rail technology firewall that amazed me even more than the parallel running of high-speed trains east of Paris

I took the next fast train, and on every station, cyclists abandoning the race boarded, many of them with the distinct "bike racer perfume" ( = a mix of the smell of sweat and... ahem... urine). The conductor organised a TGV ticket to Paris with frantic telephone calls over a duration of 20 minutes for a middle-aged American and an Australian.

Night view of the modernised railway station of Rennes from my hotel window. Sadly, this was all I saw of the city


Eating in France

In all the running-around, I ended up not setting foot in any 'proper' French restaurant.

I told about Le Mans's döner kebab restaurants in my language use story last time. Here I should mention a third such restaurant, in the old town: it was named "LA REPUBLIQUE", sending an unmistakable political message. But later on, too, I had no time or opportunity for a proper multi-course meal. So I spent money for a hot (in both senses) soup in a Chinese restaurant, a pizza in an Italian one, and got a taste of French pro-Americanism in a Buffalo Grill (more on that later).

In the latter, I sat in a chock-full side room for non-smokers, while the main part was mostly empty. Heh. Elsewhere too, I could observe what amounts to a near-total failure of an earlier smoking ban: virtually all brasseries I encountered in Le Mans, Rennes or Brest were smoker-only, even though the ratio of smokers was noticeably lower than at home.

But what I found very convenient as traveller with no time were the all-prevalent sandwich bars. Always one at or near a railway station, selling tasty, crisp baguette-sandwiches with regional variation. Except for the brasserie at the railway terminal in Brest: I bought the world's worst sandwich jambon there, threw out half of it, avoid at all costs!!!

:: :: :: :: ::

Next morning, I again set off very early, to a village on the mainline west of Rennes.

My pre-drawn arrival in Quédillac

I spent another two hours waiting in light rain here. But, this time the growing light in the dawn and early morning made it a different experience, while some trains and few cars disturbed village tranquillity, and groups of bikers passed with silent swoosh. (Neither bikers nor spectators – me and a few smiling old peasants – had much energy for cheering.)

Cyclists nearing (above) and entering (below) the Breton village of Quédillac, on their way back from Brest to Paris. The stream of bikers was much more thinned out by now, but constant: by the time one group of 5–15 reached the railway crossing, another appeared in the curve across the valley


The Paris–Brest–Paris bike race

This is a very special race: first organised in 1891 (older than the Tour), but this year's was only the 16th: presently, it is staged once every four years. The goal is less to have a better time than your co-racers, but just to make it, and get your name into the Big Book of the race.

This is an amateur race, so anyone can participate with any type of bike, if they passed a qualification: test rides over 200, 300 and 600 km, and medical check. (The Paris–Brest air distance is roughly 600 km, this year's route was 1,225 km.)

The most special bike I saw: a bi-directional tandem sitting bike. I first saw it in Brest, here it is metres before arrival at the finish line in Guyancourt, near Paris

This year, a record 5312 participants waged the adventure, launched in several large groups. Participants came from all over the developed Western world, plus Japan. One fifteenth were female. But the one thing that surprised me, as well as my friend, was the average age of participants: 50 years! Back before the start on the outskirts of Paris, indeed I saw a lot of people with grey beards but in-form super-thin biker bodies.

:: :: :: :: ::

As before, French state railways' schedule forced me to go to another station to catch a return train. But this time, I was less lucky with hitch-hiking: drivers sped by, even accelerating.

While no car stops for me on the country road from Quédillac to Caulnes, two diesels pull a local freight towards the east.

I walked four kilometres in light drizzle with suitcase in the tow, but somehow I still enjoyed the Breton countryside atmosphere. It was a spiritual experience, I suspect others would say. And then, when I long gave up trying to signal, a car just stopped to pick me up on its own.

It was a very nice old rural couple, with whom I could exchange a few friendly words in French over the short trip. Along the way, a crazy Opel combi overtook us and two cars ahead of us on the curving country road. The old couple shouted in unison: Parisien!

Drivers & pedestrians

In Budapest, drivers are aggressive and speeding, yet pedestrians still risk running across the red light. American visitors say we ignore the rules. So imagine my surprise when in Western France, I repeatedly found myself being passed en masse by local pedestrians at red lights.

That behaviour seems encouraged by an exceedingly pedestrian-friendly driver behaviour: cars did stop for me even when I just stood on the roadside without intention to cross, and they had green light!

However, my Paris area experience was markedly different: there, cars sped and honked, and where there were no lights, crossing the road took quite a while. More like Budapest. It seems the old Breton couple was into something.

(But regarding drivers and pedestrians, I would get my biggest surprise in Frankfurt.)

:: :: :: :: ::

Yet another electric AGC stops in the curve at Caulnes

Speaking of the Paris area, let's jump straight to the end of another long day, to my arrival in the station St. Cyr. My hotel (the only cheap one that had rooms at an acceptable distance form the race finish line and a railway station) was another 2 km walk, and along the way, the rain got continually stronger. Then when I arrived on the spot the internet map indicated, and found residential homes instead, it turned into a downpour so strong it fell straight through my umbrella. A local pointed out that I'm 200 metres off.

I found myself in a little America, motel with outside staircase besides a supermarket and a fast food restaurant. That rooms in the hotel of the super-affordable Premiere Classe chain are spartan and of cheap materials doesn't bother me (apart from hearing the neighbours through the thin walls), the less as mine was clean, and long live the hot shower! ...then by the time I finished, the supermarket just closed. So with my empty stomach demanding its due, I had to go into that French imitation of American fast food, Buffalo Grill. By this time I was seriously worried about my spending. (Food cost about 2–3 times what it costs at home.)

This was the most exhausting day. So I thought until the next.

After various errands, including running around in a big supermarket for cough drops, but not recognising any, until I got sight of a familiar Swiss brand, I went to the cycle race finish line.

The last roundabout in front of the Guyancourt sports centre, arrival after 1225 km for 3,602 of the 5,312 participants. This photo was again made in a brief rain-less period

The actual finish line was accessible only to the bikers, so the crowd of of a few hundred gathered here. Everyone got a big cheer, those who were special in some way bigger cheers: tandems, sitting bikes, female bikers, truly old bikers, and (biggest cheer) the sole black I saw, in a French national team shirt.

My friend who participated was in the big group that had 90 hours as limit time, and made it in 85. The rain had its effect, as did sleep withdrawal: 85 hours was a full day more than what he planned with, and 12 hours more than what I planned with – hence came my two-hour rush through Paris to catch the train to Germany, from where I'll continue in a last diary.

Display:
Bonus image with a question:

This is inside the station hall in Brest. But four years ago, I saw those same Arabic(?) and Chinese(?) texts on drapes hanged on the city wall. Anyone with an idea what they say and why they are there? (I can post larger-resolution versions of the texts if requested.)

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Fri Sep 14th, 2007 at 01:25:44 PM EST
From what I can make out, it looks like the Arabic says "All people are born equal."
by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Fri Sep 14th, 2007 at 02:05:38 PM EST
[ Parent ]
And I'd be willing to bet that the other one says the same thing.  I recognize the top character as the Chinese (and, I think, also Japanese) character for "person."
by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Fri Sep 14th, 2007 at 02:08:51 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Here is the Arabic text righted and contrast-improved with GIMP:



*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:14:37 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Is that in fact the same short text in each line, in several different writing styles?

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:50:37 AM EST
[ Parent ]
It seems the same thing is true of the chinese text...

Un roi sans divertissement est un homme plein de misères
by linca (antonin POINT lucas AROBASE gmail.com) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:36:09 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Yep:



*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:57:28 AM EST
[ Parent ]
"all humanity is born free and equal"
by wu ming on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 08:40:38 PM EST
[ Parent ]
So what's this all about? I tried to Google Tous les hommes sont nés égaux and some variants with "Brest", but no find so far.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 08:11:12 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Yes, it's the same thing over and over in different calligraphy styles.  And it actually says "free and equal."  
by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 09:06:03 AM EST
[ Parent ]
I tried with Tous les hommes sont nés libres et égaux, too.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:19:34 AM EST
[ Parent ]
It's a direct quote from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Were these the only two languages that the banners were written in?  Because if so, that could be seen as a political message, e.g. only speakers of Arabic and Chinese need to be reminded of this....

by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:44:08 AM EST
[ Parent ]
That would be one version, but then in some convoluted way -- because yes it was the Arabic and Chinese only, but I am not aware of a large ethnic Chinese population in that region (nor have seen, but that doesn't say much), or "they don't accept our notion of human rights"-type prejudices.

But with the variety of calligraphics, it could have been some more innocent art project four years ago, 'saved' by moving it into a weather-sheltered permanent place inside the railway station.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:02:05 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Well, calligraphy is an art form in both Chinese and Arabic.  But that is also true of other languages, e.g. English and Hebrew.  It's just kind of curious that the phrase wasn't rendered into any other languages, and that there's no indication anywhere for non-readers of Arabic or Chinese as to what the banners actually say.  So in order to "get it," you'd have to be able to read one of those languages.  Which, as you point out, not a lot of people necessarily can.

(NB:  Colloquial spoken Arabic and written Arabic are very different, and I know quite a few people who are the children of immigrants and have grown up speaking comfortably in Arabic but are completely unable to read it -- not even street signs, let alone calligraphy, which at its most ornate can be difficult for even fully literate native speakers to decipher....)

At any rate, they are lovely banners.

by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:58:43 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Memories :). I did take Brest-Nice train (starting/stopping at Toulouse) a lot during my engineering school years.

Note that Buffalo is not really fast food (like Quick or McDonalds), more of a meat based restaurant chain (and they went famous for selling "mad cow" beef a while a ago...).

BTW Rennes has a fully automatic subway:

http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%A9tro_de_Rennes

by Laurent GUERBY on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 04:52:26 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Yeah the Buffalo Grill was no McDonalds, but closer to KFC or Wendy's -- with only 10-minute waiting time. OK, they had a waiter, but the poor sod had to work faster than any waiter I saw before, always running. (Are there unions in BG?). However, the interieur, the food ("Assiette Téxane") and the country music were all suggestive of something very different from US stereotypes of French anti-Americanism...

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:25:47 AM EST
[ Parent ]
My half brother did work for Buffalo as waiter :). Waiter situation is the same in the whole french restaurant industry, unionization is very low (even by french standards), pay not great and lots of turnover (even if most contracts are permanent).

Job statistics here:

http://www.insee.fr/fr/ffc/fichesect/service_pairA.htm

Most french meat restaurant chains use USA and cowboy images for their marketing.

by Laurent GUERBY on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:29:54 AM EST
[ Parent ]
I gave the guy a proper tip.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 08:01:29 AM EST
[ Parent ]
... are all the same in this corner of America, just a different menu and different decoration on the cardboard cut out building surrounded by parking and drive-through lanes.

From what I recall back when I could afford them (which was before I went to Oz, so more than a decade back), the first tier of sit down and get waited on with a turn-around as close to Mickey D's as possible is, like, Denny's, HoJo's, and IHOP.


I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.

by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 03:33:00 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Cardboard cut out building surrounded by parking and drive-through lanes, that applied to my Buffalo Grill, too. I primarily meant the different menus: at least in Budapest, McD is all 'plastic' hamburgers + over-salted fries + stomach-blowing soft drinks (and maybe temporary specialities), Wendy's (which no longer exists here) also had more eatable stuff like baked whole potatoes and chili (like Buffalo Grill), and longer waiting times. I don't know either Denny's, HoJo's, or IHOP -- seems they didn't get here.

(I note my experience of US-origin fast food restaurants is from when I returned late from evening astronomy courses and nothing cheaper and non-smoker was open, and I gladly switched to Chinese and Turkish/Greek/Arab fast food restaurants once they arrived.)

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:27:04 PM EST
[ Parent ]
... when I lived in Oz were an old-fashioned Australian hamburger joint, with six kinds of hamburger and a range of toppings, ranging up to bacon and egg, including of course grilled onion, and if you weren't careful beetroot ... and kebab places.

Wendy's always had the chili, but I guess they added some other healthier food choices after I left for Oz, in response to the pressure from Subway, and now Mickey D's trying to follow suit.

But I can't really afford to eat at most fast food places, so once I started boycotting Taco Bell because they would not serve me in the ride in window, the closest I get to fast food is canned soup or canned chili and frozen veggies added to the rice in the rice cooker.


I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.

by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:51:33 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Interesting, McD & co is often spoken of as cheap by Westerners, which was and still is definitely not true here (I remember the first McDonalds opened was seen as a trendy exclusive place for those with money). So yes the switch to Chinese and gyros (döner kebab) in my student years was also welcome cost-cutting.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:00:17 PM EST
[ Parent ]
The kebabs in Oz would end up being about the same as a Bog Mac, and the better Ozzie burgers a smidgen more ... but since both felt like actual food instead of imitation food, there's no comparing the bang for the buck.


I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.
by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:47:51 PM EST
[ Parent ]


I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.
by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:48:16 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Oh, and here too the best hamburgers are sold by street vendors (four times the size of what they sell in McD, tastier, healthier, more stuff put into it in greater variation), but I rarely came across these on my routes home.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:03:50 PM EST
[ Parent ]
... was the meat pie stand in the converted tram near the Queen's Wharf (where the ferry to Stockton Peninsula came in) ... a bad meat pie is a terrible thing, but a very good one is an excellent reason for taking up cycle commuting.

From the description you give of the street vender hamburgers, the traditional Ozzie burger from a traditional fish and chip shop is closer to that than to Mickey D's ... or, as they say in Oz, Macca's.

I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.

by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 07:12:52 PM EST
[ Parent ]
by Laurent GUERBY on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:42:27 AM EST
[ Parent ]
Amazing, you found it! And indeed it hung on the wall in 2003, in another arrangement:

In the pdf you linked, the caption says that they are the work of young calligraphists Ramzi Merdjal (Algeria), ing Ling Zhou and Ruo Yo Li (China). They name the individual styles.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 12:13:13 PM EST
[ Parent ]
There are now a lot of chinese and asian students in the ENST Bretagne engineering school (where I got my diploma). See page 7 of this report:

http://www.enst-bretagne.fr/data/ecole/Presentation/Rapport_activite/Rapport_activite_2006.pdf

44% of the school students are foreigner, 22% of school students are from Asia. 494 foreign students are coming from 48 countries.

There is even a chinese calligraphy club :)

The school has always been internationnally oriented, one of the requirement of my diploma was to spend 3 monhtes abroad (otherwise no diploma).

by Laurent GUERBY on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 01:51:50 PM EST
[ Parent ]
22% of foreign students from Asia, if I read page 7 correctly. But surely a lot more (relative to other foreigners) than I'd expected -- the lower number of students from the EU is even more surprising.

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 03:03:29 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Yep sorry typo on my side.

Opening to asia is a recent push from school management and government (there were far less asian students in my times 1994-1996).

by Laurent GUERBY on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 03:13:13 PM EST
[ Parent ]
I have a theory about crossing the road that is something along the lines that the more that pedestrians and cars are kept apart (freeways, walkways etc) the less ability pedestrians & car drivers develop to cope with the hazards of being in proximity.

I notice that in the US, even for somebody like me who has complete contempt for traffic, it was a little dangerous to cross roads because, besides being illegal and running the risk of being beaten up (like that guy in Atlanta) the fact is that car drivers don't know how to behave. I found the same in S Korea when I visited, except that koreans tend to slow down in panic rather than accelerate, so crossing roads is a less risky business.

By contrast, in london or paris traffic and pedestrians intermingle all the time, and so it's actually quite safe cos both sides know the rules and are acclimated to each other. I generally take the view that, all things considered, drivers prefer not to run people over cos it's inconvenient. So you can "play" with the traffic a bit when you cross.

I can't comment on spain cos I didn't have long enough to experiment properly, but they seem okay.

keep to the Fen Causeway

by Helen (lareinagal at yahoo dot co dot uk) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 09:50:45 AM EST
So your impression was that in Paris, drivers do mind you as pedestrian?

I was told by several recent visitors there that in London, drivers do care about pedestrians just like you say, and just like I observed in Western France, but Paris was different. (As further evidence, there are the car mirrors punched off by Jérôme, too ;-) ) Unfortunately, Budapest is another such case -- which doesn't IMO mean that your theory is wrong, but that there are other factors (in Budapest: car = status = fuck off the road pedestrians, the road belongs to me!)

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:17:33 AM EST
[ Parent ]
As with london, Paris drivers are more aggressive but, by and large, they still know how to behave. they are more reluctant to slow down but will do so if you give them enough warning of your intention.

It is noticeable that car drivers in northern england are much more accomodating to pedestrians. In fact for a dedicated player like me it's a bit boring.

keep to the Fen Causeway

by Helen (lareinagal at yahoo dot co dot uk) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:59:26 AM EST
[ Parent ]
That's interesting. For the sake of further comparing our senses of safe drivers, I am curious: have you been to

  1. Italy (Northern and Southern),
  2. Greece,
  3. the rest of the Balkans,
  4. the new EU members?


*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:06:30 AM EST
[ Parent ]
No sorry, not been to any.

I was in czech republic recently, but never met traffic enough to worry about it.

keep to the Fen Causeway

by Helen (lareinagal at yahoo dot co dot uk) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:15:30 AM EST
[ Parent ]
that said, I'll be in Bulgaria next week so I should have a chnace then. But I'm not sure that traffic will be intense where I'll be.

keep to the Fen Causeway
by Helen (lareinagal at yahoo dot co dot uk) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 11:16:36 AM EST
[ Parent ]
By the way, do you sense a London vs. rest of Britain difference in this respect?

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:20:35 AM EST
[ Parent ]
... works, by behaving enough like a car so that it triggers the "what do I do when a slow car is in front of me" nerve cells to fire.

And why cycling pretending to be a pedestrian instead ... a not uncommon approach in this small town ... is an invitation to be run over.

And, yes, once in a great while an idiot (normally in a massive oversized pick-up truck who ought to stop and kiss my tires for not consuming any gas on my trip) honks, but even they almost always drive more or less correctly for a slow moving vehicle in the right hand half of the lane.

I've been accused of being a Marxist, yet while Harpo's my favourite, it's Groucho I'm always quoting. Odd, that.

by BruceMcF (agila61 at netscape dot net) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 03:37:00 PM EST
[ Parent ]
That was really quite an adventure!  It's been great reading the diary, thanks.
by In Wales (inwales aaat eurotrib.com) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 04:27:46 PM EST
Please! But wait until I tell the end of this day, when I got to Frankfurt...

(And sorry for accidentally hiding your comment even from myself.)

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.

by DoDo on Sun Sep 16th, 2007 at 05:14:59 AM EST
[ Parent ]
[In Wales, could it be that I accidentally deleted a comment of yours?]

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 06:31:24 PM EST
It shows up as editorial for those who can see them :)

Un roi sans divertissement est un homme plein de misères
by linca (antonin POINT lucas AROBASE gmail.com) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:24:54 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Fixed... :-)
by the stormy present (stormypresent aaaaaaat gmail etc) on Sat Sep 15th, 2007 at 10:42:42 PM EST
[ Parent ]
Thanks! No idea how I did it, it disappeared right after I rated (and the ratings did show up).

*Lunatic*, n.
One whose delusions are out of fashion.
by DoDo on Sun Sep 16th, 2007 at 05:19:10 AM EST
[ Parent ]


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