20 November 2003 www.thisis<strong>the</strong>nor<strong>the</strong>ast.co.ukQuality Local Bus Servicesin North Yorkshire, Teesside & Durhampublic transport info0870 608 2 608All Calls at NationalRate. Open daily0700 to 2000Age Concern Home & Contents InsuranceLow cost <strong>home</strong> contents cover from Age ConcernOVER 50? From as little as 45p per week <strong>you</strong> caninsure <strong>you</strong>r <strong>home</strong> contents against fire, <strong>the</strong>ft and flood damagesA little extra (from 74p) per week ensures that all <strong>you</strong>rbelongings are also covered for accidental damageCall 01325 362832for detailsAutumn offer exclusive toBeauty Clinique,Chester-le-StreetCourse of 3 UniversalContour Wraps and10 Eurowaves only £150•Excellent inch loss - guarantee aminimum of a six inch loss or<strong>you</strong> don’t pay!•Appearance of cellulite isimproved•Terrific kick start to commencethat diet•Advanced toning treatmentconnections1 Carlingford Rd, Garden Farm Estate,Chester-le-Street 0191 3881888Stunning CollectionsSPECIALISTS IN PICTURE FRAMING & FINE ARTDEALERS WITH OVER 100 YEARS EXPERIENCEFraming, Paintings, Prints, Tapestry, Embroidery,Certificates, Stamp Medals, Cigarette Cards, Maps& Engravings etc.In our Gallery we have on display a large selection ofOriginal Paintings & Limited Edition Prints by H DavidShepherd H David Farrant H John Lowrie Morrison HRussell Flint H Gordon King & many o<strong>the</strong>rsWe also have a large selection of Posters & Prints,Antiquarian Maps & Engravings & Sporting Prints, ExpertCleaning & Restoration of Oil Paintings & WatercoloursWILLIAM DODDSSensuality34 Tubwell Row, Darlington. DL1 1NUTel: 01325 462599. www.fineartdodds.co.ukEnjoy <strong>the</strong> very best of English and Continental cuisine in<strong>the</strong> relaxed and friendly atmosphere of our restaurant.With an emphasis on fresh, local ingredients, our skilledteam of Chef’s enjoy an excellent reputation.We are open 7 days a week for lunch and dinnerMidweek Lunch - £9.50 (2 courses)Sunday Lunch - £15.50 (3 courses)A la Carte Dinner - from £23.00 (3 courses)We offer an extensive wine listLooking for that creativeor original gift?“Unique to Scrapbook Shop” -Christmas Wish List- Works just like a Wedding List - <strong>you</strong> tell us andwe’ll tell <strong>you</strong>r friends and family“Don’t’ be disappointed onChristmas Day”Gift Sets now in stockStocking fillers for all agesGift Wrapping Service • Gift VouchersCreate <strong>you</strong>r own Christmas CardsWe now stock ... HEROARTS ....PSX ...Hobby Art Rubber Stamps ...Xyron StickerMachine...Sizzix...Shapeboss...Punches..Peeloffs...Vellum...Rub ons...Groovy Chick byNOW OPENMONDAYSThe Restaurant at6 Beech Road,Framwellgate Moor,(just past <strong>the</strong> Fire Station,next to Blockbuster Video)Tel. 01913757515www.scrapbookshop.co.ukExquisiteWeddingShoesHandcrafted Bride andBridesmaid Shoes from<strong>you</strong>r own material• Satin shoe dyeing tomatch any outfit• Page Boys’ shoes alsoavailable“Backstage”164 Linthorpe RoadTel: 01642 243397A la Carte Dinner plus Bed and Breakfast£99 for twoon selected nightsPlease visit www.headlamhall.co.ukor call for detailsTelephone 01325) 730238We are 8 miles west of Darlington off A67Homeward bound... and that boot is full: from left, <strong>the</strong> author, ‘George’ and ‘Harris’.Main picture: <strong>the</strong> Racing Green limousine that turned French headsThreemen in aJagThree Men in a Boat byJerome K.Jerome waspublished in 1889 (1). It is aclassic, colourful andamusing account of a riverboating holiday – adventuresand misadventures – ofthree chums accompaniedby a fictitious dog calledMontmorency. The story hasbeen turned into movies onthree occasions in <strong>the</strong> last50 years. One hundred andfourteen years later, DAVIDKELLY and two companions‘George’ (Peter Rowley) and‘Harris’ (Ian Clarke) (2) setoff – and report – in <strong>the</strong>same late-Victorian spirit…THE three of us had been agreed: ashort break would fortify us for <strong>the</strong>demands of <strong>the</strong> coming winter. But,unlike our illustrious predecessors, wehad no stomach for a boating holiday,<strong>the</strong> heatwave having given way to <strong>the</strong> usualvagaries of an early English autumn.But it was more than serendipity that turnedour minds to <strong>the</strong> nearly-discarded invitationfrom our good friend Vardy to avail ourselvesof <strong>the</strong> opportunity of an excursion in one ofhis luxury Jaguar (3) motor vehicles.While we had responded that such alimousine might forever remain beyond <strong>the</strong>reach of our combined purses, it was feltappropriate to make a constructive proposal:perhaps we should take one for a spin to <strong>the</strong>Loire Valley in France and ascertain howmuch of <strong>the</strong> prodigious 470-litre luggagecompartment might be filled with wine…?A jest, it was not; nor taken as such. Forwithin <strong>the</strong> shortest space of time we weresteering a splendid top-of-<strong>the</strong>-range JaguarXJR (4.2 litre supercharged) on to a somewhatless agreeable or commodious ferry.We had not reached <strong>the</strong> vessel without somemisadventure. Indeed, even before we set forthwe studied our travelling bags packed into <strong>the</strong>boot and reflected ruefully that <strong>the</strong>re wasbarely room for a jeroboam. We had overprovidedas usual and perhaps Harris had beenright to dismiss as unnecessary <strong>the</strong> scribing oflists of travelling requisites. “Just underpantsand socks”, he had declared (though, it must berecorded, his was <strong>the</strong> largest piece ofluggage…). At least we had been able topersuade George to leave behind his clockworkMontmorency, largely on <strong>the</strong> grounds that his‘dog’, while obedient, was by no stretch of <strong>the</strong>imagination, a fox-terrier.
November 2003 www.thisis<strong>the</strong>nor<strong>the</strong>ast.co.uk21❛A statue of St Vincent (patron saint ofwinegrowers) bore an uncanny resemblanceto a Mr George Best, a well-known wine imbiberwhose previous occupation, apparently, was <strong>the</strong>pursuit of a footballThe closure of part of <strong>the</strong> M1 found usdisoriented and utterly lost in <strong>the</strong> midst ofWalsall, having only <strong>the</strong> vaguest notion ofwhich turning led to Portsmouth. Time waspressing. Our inbuilt satellite companionproved of limited assistance: we wereinexperienced with its operation andpuzzled by proposed highways changingfrom blue to green. For once we took <strong>the</strong>advice of Harris, who had more than anodding acquaintance with <strong>the</strong> M6, andwithin a short time, we were poweringeffortlessly south. Harris quickly becamelost in his book.Our satellite adviser – of female, almostsirenesqueintonation – had persisted intrying to direct us to our port via Londoninstead of by way of Oxford but, reflectingon this as we partook of something in <strong>the</strong>drinking line on our ferry, we accepted <strong>the</strong>probability of having programmed-inOxford Street…We quickly tired of <strong>the</strong> television instationary passages but this was in largepart because <strong>the</strong> England cricket teamwere being put to <strong>the</strong> sword. However,onlookers queuing at <strong>the</strong> port gazed inwonder and envy.George, having elected himself to <strong>the</strong>role of recording and re-allocating ourexpenditure, was also counting how manyheads were being turned by our vehicle’sclassic lines and a bonnet that housed anengine of enormous flexibility. It was, ofcourse, more amusing to turn <strong>the</strong> heads ofopen-mou<strong>the</strong>d awestruck French folkstudying our Racing Green limousine.We chose <strong>the</strong> old roads south throughNormandy and were constantly astonishedwith <strong>the</strong> ease with which we could pass <strong>the</strong>dawdling masses. In truth, we were alsoastounded that this powerful vehicle was sosparing with its consumption of fuel, whichGeorge attributed to <strong>the</strong> light aluminiumbody in which we were cosseted with everyconceivable aid to <strong>the</strong> safety of alloccupants.Our destination was a ra<strong>the</strong>r tiredfarmhouse (4) close to <strong>the</strong> Loire vineyards.It transpired that a colony of bees hadalready taken residence but given that <strong>the</strong>yconfined most of <strong>the</strong>ir activity to <strong>the</strong>kitchen chimney, George could continue tocount beans ra<strong>the</strong>r than bees.At our destination we disembarkedunwearied by travel and swapped <strong>the</strong>comfort of our vehicle for this relativelyrude and rustic accommodation. However,a hot water supply was available (albeit, asit transpired, only temporarily) andperhaps this was <strong>the</strong> one luxury that ourvehicle’s interior had appeared to lack.And, as we began <strong>the</strong> minor task of eatingour way through mountains of cheese,meats, paté and bread (not overlooking agood dip in <strong>the</strong> wine lake), we lookedforward to <strong>the</strong> following day and <strong>the</strong>primary purpose of our vacation.Our guide was to be <strong>the</strong> redoubtable RéalFleury, in whose veins, it must truly besaid, wine flows (5). We partook ofbreakfast at his Saumur apartment: arefreshing glass of la bernache, <strong>the</strong> stillfermentingfirst wine from this year’sharvest. At least its typical cloudinessensured a small degree of essentialroughage to start <strong>the</strong> day. Harris wasprivately alarmed by talk of its virtues as alaxative…Our objective was mostly <strong>the</strong> fine reds ofSaumur and Chinon though – perhaps a signof <strong>the</strong> times – both George and Harriswanted to purchase white wine, allegedly tocomfort <strong>the</strong>ir respective and pining spouses(gifts of inexpensive scents having obviouslypaled by now).At <strong>the</strong> end of a long day in <strong>the</strong> vineyards,<strong>the</strong> irritating showers dried away andmellow sun fell on <strong>the</strong> Loire.In retrospect, it is now possible to see how– and why – we had forgotten that even <strong>the</strong>prodigious luggage space of our Jaguarmight be challenged by <strong>the</strong> addition of 120litres of some of <strong>the</strong> best, truly affordablewines <strong>the</strong> Loire Valley can produce.For even as we glazed over <strong>the</strong> bottles,bags and boxes before us, our mindsoverflowed not with relative cubic capacitiesbut with experiences of extraordinarywinegrowers and amazing caves (winecellars)…At René Noel Legrand’s Varrains cellarwhere George and Harris, embarrassinglypreoccupied with <strong>the</strong>ir white wineaspiration, fell completely for an obviouslywell-worked and crude patois about how,when <strong>you</strong> have 14 reds and only one white,<strong>you</strong> “take care of <strong>the</strong> dancing woman” – anallusion, supposedly, to a dance troupewhere <strong>you</strong> set <strong>you</strong>r attentions upon <strong>the</strong> onlyblonde;In <strong>the</strong> highly-certificated ChristopheHallouin’s Domaine des Frémonclairescellar a statue of St Vincent (patron saint ofwinegrowers) bore an uncanny resemblanceto a Mr George Best, a well-known wineimbiber whose previous occupation,apparently, was <strong>the</strong> pursuit of a football (arough sport, by all accounts);THE ca<strong>the</strong>dral-like cellars of Chateau dela Fessardiere where, quiteunderstandably, <strong>the</strong> Poitevin familyhad moved on from mushrooms;Blondes all forgotten, of course, when <strong>the</strong>enchanting Angélique Leon at Savigny-en-Veron plied us with her lauded and prizewinningfirst vintage;The erudite Charles Pain of Chinon(“wine and bread”, Réal had jested, andobviously not for <strong>the</strong> first time);And finally, after a long day of throwingaway almost as much wine as we imbibed(dégustation), <strong>the</strong> extraordinarily-fine redproduced at Cravant-les-Coteaux by a <strong>you</strong>ngman whose name was Jerome and whosefox-terrier was <strong>the</strong> image of Montmorency:we had truly come <strong>home</strong>. An extraordinarycoincidence.It is clear we had become increasinglyrelaxed about volumes of wine as <strong>the</strong> dayhad progressed. Harris, who after lunch hadabandoned himself to his book, napping anda Test Match which suggested somerestoration of national pride, was confidentit would all fit in with our baggage,unconcerned at <strong>the</strong> time about how muchwould join him on <strong>the</strong> back seat.But as <strong>the</strong> final day approached, evenbeing swept up in a sunny local carnival atParcay-les-Pins where our Jaguar windowsbecame smeared by <strong>the</strong> noses of <strong>you</strong>ng andold alike pressed against <strong>the</strong> glass, chillingbut not-quite sobering reality was settlingupon us. Our hot water had also expired by<strong>the</strong>n…Could everything be shoe-horned into ourstately vehicle and could we surmount <strong>the</strong>ferry ramp, <strong>the</strong> automatic self-levellingsystem keeping our underparts intact?George had o<strong>the</strong>r reasons to be ill at easethat final night. Disturbed firstly by <strong>the</strong>noise in <strong>the</strong> room above him of Harrisapparently sawing logs (snoring), he <strong>the</strong>nbecame convinced he was sharing hislodgings with wildlife of <strong>the</strong> non-cute andfurry kind (it was rain falling down <strong>the</strong>chimney into <strong>the</strong> grate).But it gave him <strong>the</strong> chance to ponder, planand ultimately store every litre in <strong>the</strong>Jaguar with only a modicum of discomfortto Harris in <strong>the</strong> rear where he could watchdreadful French TV or read about somelong-dead American President.That evening as we cruised up <strong>the</strong>autoroute, all of France’s pent-up summerrain descended upon us. But limpet-liketraction, delivered effortlessly, brought us to<strong>the</strong> port in good time for George and Harristo devour vast cauldrons of mussels. Ourembarkation was not marked by <strong>the</strong> soundof metal scraping on <strong>the</strong> loading bay deckbut by respectful appreciation of ourvehicle’s dimensions and its aura of wealth.Our good friend Vardy took back <strong>the</strong>ignition keys with <strong>the</strong> understanding smileof one who has seen o<strong>the</strong>rs return to <strong>the</strong>irhumdrum lives where highly-automatedluxury will play no fur<strong>the</strong>r part. We hadtasted <strong>the</strong> ‘nectar’ of <strong>the</strong> motoring gods. Wehad purchased as many litres of wine forbottling than our Jaguar had consumed infuel and, when we come toge<strong>the</strong>r to drink itin <strong>the</strong> months ahead, unquestionably <strong>the</strong>rewill be especial toasts to our mechanicalhost.(1) Three Men in a Boatby Jerome K.Jerome hasnever been out of printsince 1889. It’s not along book and abargain buy would be<strong>the</strong> Penguin Classicsversion which alsocontains <strong>the</strong> sequelThree Men on <strong>the</strong>Bummel (PenguinClassics, £7.99).(2) Jerome’s companions in <strong>the</strong> book wereGeorge and Harris and <strong>the</strong>se names havebeen borrowed affectionately for thisadventure.(3) The Jaguar 4.2 supercharged; a classicshape with an extraordinary aluminiumbody which has every conceivabletechnological aid and safety feature. Theengine and braking system are remarkable.When <strong>the</strong> acceleration was demonstrated toRéal, he said “It is like being in ano<strong>the</strong>rdimension…”Standard features include automatictransmission, auto dim mirrors, radio andsingle slot CD, premium sound, sport airsuspension, reverse park control, rainsensitive wipers, CD autochanger, powerdriver and passenger 16-way seats. Our fittedoptions: interior compass, variable heatedfront seats, adaptive cruise control, DVDpackage with rear screens, navigation unitand TV. Just talk to Reg Vardy plc at JaguarHouse, Preston Farm, Yarm Road, StocktonTS18 3RW; (01642) 665200.(4) Tired farmhouse unavailable: but for awonderful gite for up to six people at Parcayles-Pinsjust north-east of Saumur book Joand Iain Buchanan’s Le Friche. Visitwww.french-holidaycottages.com but bear inmind <strong>the</strong> pictures on <strong>the</strong> website fail to dojustice to this superb accommodation..(5) Réal Fleury knows more Loire Valleyvineyards, amazing cellars and friendlywinegrowers than any o<strong>the</strong>r living person! Hespeaks English well (if not quite as expertlyas his remarkable wife Gillette) and willorganise tours of vineyards and accompany<strong>you</strong>. He can be contacted on 00332 43 45 09 14or by e-mail on www.real.fleury@wanadoo.fr
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