Day Eleven: Le Cirque d'Lescun

All awoke after the monster Pic day feeling knackered. Webbo however wanted one last walk. Who can blame him, we live in paradise. A quick drive to Lescun saw us de-bus before following a route Stevie and Swamps had stumbled across the other day when the boys were doing the Couey Lodge. A pleasant walk through beach forest saw us into a meadow and a view of the splendid mountain panorama of the Cirque de Lescun. Fantastic.

Swamps scrambled about for plants and flowers that he could use to drug unsuspecting ladies into performing the beast with two backs. A bottle of vin rouge was sculled in the hot sun then back to the car.

Hidden valley on the way to the Lescun Cirque

Medallion awarded to all those that drank vino tinto under the arduous conditions experienced at the Lescun Cirque (AP)

Sadly the boys; Swamps, Webbo and Bloomster had to de-camp back to Blighty. Thus a 5pm Pendle meal was attempted in the hot sun - madness, every man was sweating like a sex beast after the 1st fork load. Then all aboard the jolly bus for a trip to the Tarbes railway station. Ok so far. Quick beer on Bloomster - always a pleasure, before checking the boys onto their 1st class train to Paris, then London. Oh this is where it starts to get messy.

Having piled 3/5th of Pendle's collective kit on the Tarbes main station main drag Webbo and Thuggo went up to the SNCF man. Tickets were duly produced. The SNSS storm trooper looked at the tickets like we had just crapped in his hand.


Then appeared Mr Short Man syndrome - the jobsworth of the SNCF, the station manager. " NON..NON.." he repeated " NO TRAVEL " slowly more and more SNCF tossers appeared like extra in the Michael Jackson Thriller video - up to ten at one point.

" It's not a good sign, so many pig dogs appearing " said Webbo.

Their problem it would appear was that although we'd paid big cash sums to travel, the actual ticket for three people from Tarbes to Paris said £31. The garlic addled feckers didn't think that for such a sum they could transport a hippy, his mates and all their stinking kit on one of their nice trains.

"Can't you check your computer reservations ??? " asked a now desperate Webbo after half an hour.

" NON "chorused the SS.NCF men. Much bad French/English was spoken for the next 20 mins.

After 50 mins Webbs asked me "Do you think it would help if I chinned this fucker? " pointing to a particularly moustachioed recalcitrant Pig Dog.

Finally with 5 minutes to spare one stinker says, " Eh. Why do we not check le computer reservations ? "

2 mins later he comes back " C'EST BON "……………..No shit Sherlock !!!