25 years later

In France, you know, it's only just 1981.

That was the year of the riots. I was living down near Herne Bay at the time, an idyllic period for me, and I was unemployed. The national crisis got to such a state that there were rumours, one day, that there were going to be riots in Canterbury. Shopkeepers were boarding up their windows. Old ladies were hoarding toilet rolls and sugar.

I cycled down there. That was my way of getting around in those days. Those bloody Canterbury hills! Anyone who knows the town will appreciate what I'm talking about. I was so fucking fit in those days! We lived on a long, mostly empty country road. I had a bike then, it only had 5 gears, but it was so well balanced, you could ride without holding the handlebars for miles and miles. I used to turn off the main road, let go of the handlebars, and just freewheel, mostly, all the way down to our house.

It was so quiet, I could probably have read a paperback book, like people do in the gym.

Anyway, I cycled down to Canterbury on the day of the rumoured riots. There were a few boarded up shops, but there was nothing going on.

What the French need, to diffuse the situation, is a big Royal Wedding. So, find the heir to the French throne, re-institute the monarchy, fix up an engagement, and then give everyone the day off for the wedding. Voila. It's a sure-fire formula.

p.s. In the caption to the photo above, Charles is saying, "Threesome?"