The Corsican Train of Despair

(A tardy follow-up to the Bus of Enforced Jollity)

So anyway, it’s summer 2004 and Surly and I are away on a business trip. We find ourselves with horrific hangovers and half a day to waste in Ajaccio. Not wanting to exert ourselves too much, and declining to go to the beach with our colleagues due the effect of strong sunlight on afore-mentioned hangovers, we decided to take the little tourist train around the town.

The train came with a recorded narration, in order to educate us tourists on the delights and history of Ajaccio. The English narration was delivered by a camp, but very bored sounding Mancunian. His script had obviously been very literally translated from the French. Due, I can only suppose, to his overwhelming feeling of ennui, the narrator had not bothered to correct any of the errors in the translation. Therefore, we were given a full description of the local architectural feature of “windows in the style of jealousy”. This was in between pointing out each and every building that at some time had enjoyed a tenuous link with one of Corsica’s favourite sons, Cardinal Fesch. Regrettably, when sleep-deprived, there are only so many times you can hear the word “Fesch” without rocking backwards and forwards and giggling hysterically.

Halfway through this journey, the train stopped and we were all required to disembark so that we could go and admire a statue of Napoleon. Despite our delicate conditions, Surly and I were not allowed to stay on the train, despite the fact that it wasn’t going anywhere. As you can imagine, our level of enjoyment in this little excursion somewhat dipped at being forced to stand in the blistering July sunshine.

When it was decided that we had each shown suitable levels of admiration, we were allowed back on the train. Surly and I were now joined in our compartment by an elderly English couple. They were obviously enjoying it as much as we were, as the elderly gentleman was heard to complain that “they’re a very excitable race these Spaniards aren’t they?”.

(The previous day we had had the pleasure of Brenda and her Man Cheese, but I don't want to spoil you all at once...)