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Gourmets go to Guines
As the 11th century drew to a close, King Baudoin the Second could take pride in his achievements for the people of Guines.
When the Danish thugs had barged into town a mere hundred years earlier, the town had been defenceless. After an exhausting week of merciless rape and pillage, they put up a fenced mound and a double ditch to secure their prize. Arnulf - The Count of Flanders - realising that a counter attack would be too costly, arranged a marriage between his daughter Elstrude and the Danish leader, Sigfrid, and appointed him Count of Guines. As the 'Guines Daily Herald' sports page headline recorded at the time: "Denmark 3- Guines 0". Nonetheless, Guines prospered and grew under the rule of Sigfrid's successors.
Time passed, and eventually Baudoin arrived on the scene. He ordered a huge stone castle to be built on top of Sigfrid's old fortification, and enclosed the town within a sturdy stone wall. He had another reason to be proud. His beloved son Fulk took part in the first Crusade. His courage in battle was such that he became known as 'the incredible Fulk'.
All was well with the inhabitants of Guines, until1348, when Edward III captured Calais. It came as a complete surprise, even to Edward's own people, who had assumed he was only going for a day trip. It was not long before Guines and its castle also surrendered to the 'bloody English' under the Treaty of Bretigny.
Much water flowed in and around the marshes of this bleak landscape, until, in 1520, Henry VIII needed an image makeover, and organised a gig with Francis I, called The Field of the Cloth of Gold. The setting was a large field between Guines and Ardres, and it was massive.
As a bit of fun, the two young Kings stripped down to their hoses and had a wrestling match - a high risk strategy for Henry, since although bulky, he had a tendency to fall over, and Francis won. Henry was livid and sulked for hours. Determined to have revenge, he surreptitiously poured a bottle of black ink (left over from the signing ceremony) into Francis's beer. Francis, not being much of a beer drinker, assumed it was supposed to be black, drank it appreciatively, and asked for another. It soon became a world best seller, and - taking its name from the nearby town - was branded as Guinness. Another own goal for poor Henry!
Like an ever rolling fleuve, more time passed, and a short hop over a narrow bridge across a swollen river brings us crashing into the bustling traffic of a damp weekday morning in 21st century Calais.
Today's invaders have more peaceful intentions - a bike ride along the canal and a good lunch in Guines. Peter,Rosemary,Ruth and Norman are in the Landrover. John and Dydiane in a separate vehicle. John has sensibly programmed the Rendezvous point into his Satnav, and arrives withouta hitch. Shortly after parking up, John's phone rings. "Nous sommes perdus!" says the plaintiff voice from the back of the Land Rover.
Contact is eventually made, bicycles assembled, and the group proceeds down the picturesque canal path out of Calais and into the rain soaked marshlands of northern France. Even when, every now and again, the pale winter sunlight tries to pierce the leaden skies, it barely manages to lift the gloom of this sad and windswept landscape.
Ruth has cold hands - it is indeed a chilly day. John thinks he has spare gloves but in fact they are (clean) socks; Ruth doesn't mind and 'mitts up' with murmurs of appreciation.
Early in the ride we find evidence of the recent heavy rains; signs proclaiming "Inondations","Pont Coupe","Route Barree", but Peter's navigational skills have by now recovered, and we are guided seemlessly through the hazardous terrain.
At one point, we stumble on a graphic and poignant reminder of how the current economic climate is taking its toll on the workers and their families of this depressed region. A canal side factory - a subsidiary of the '3M' company -is to be closed with the loss of 96 jobs. A handful of soon to be unemployed men and women stand around disconsolately at the entrance; while others stoke a blazing fire with wooden pallets. An anonymous figure in an oak-panelled office on another planet has consigned 96 families from this little community to an industrial dustbin. You won't hear many "Joyeux Noel's"round here!
Amongst the tristesse there are little islands of delight to be discovered as we head down the canal bank to Coulogne and beyond. For instance, a boat moored on the canal bank called "SAM'S SUFFIT",which Norman explained was a play on words deriving from the French"Ca me suffit" meaning 'That's enough for me'. Then a charming little amusement park called "St Joseph Village" with its miniature windmills, roundabout, little shops etc. A little further on, we come upon a front garden decorated with handbuilt models oftrains, planes, helicopters, swings and sledges - each with its own Santa Claus. This is art -not to everyone's taste - but equal to any bizarre Damien Hirst concoction.
Not to be trifled with are the feisty residents of that aggressive village called "Les Attaques" ( presumably being the best form of defence against the Danes), after which a long and straight ride to thePont d'Ardres, and then to the appropriately named "Marais de Guines" .
On a wild and lonely stretch of road somewhere between Andres and Guines, John suffers yet another puncture. The rest of the group do not notice that John is missing until they are installed in the warmth of the restaurant and sipping their first aperitifs. As John'sfrostbitten fingers wrestle with his tyre and inner tube, in the midst of a gale force wind and sudden cloudburst, he reflects on the advantages of cycling with friends.
With the puncture mended, he sets off again into the hurricane force headwinds. Tears of joy stream down his face as he thinks of his comrades. Thank goodness they at least were safe and dry, and drawing on each others' strength to face the ordeal of the three course lunch they would soon be forced to eat.
The "Ferme Gourmande" is a gem;Heaven's kitchen. The menu du jour is chosen by all. Home made 'grillons de porc' as an 'amuse gueule', followed by a succulent salade aux lardons. A sweet and juicy beef stew, with roasted endives and perfect pommes frites maison, makes a hearty main course, accompanied by a fullsome red vin de table, bursting with summer fruits. The pudding is an apple tarte tatin. This piece of paradise on a plate defies description. Go there, try it.
The light will soon be fading, so we bid a reluctant farewell to our pretty hostess, and take the road back to Calais. As we re-enter the busy evening traffic, Peter remembers that we will need to negotiate the one-way system. Rosemary becomes temporarily lost, but is soon rescued, and we rejoin the Mother ship for the return voyage to Folkestone.
PS If any of Sigfrid's descendants in Copenhagen happen to read this, and fancy having 'another go' , I say this to them ……think again mes amis. The Gendarmerie will have you banged up in the local sneezer with feet not touching en route, and before you can say Bon-Jewer!
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