I really do wish I’d not started with Roman numerals in episodes of the Big Trip, I am now having to think very hard each time I update it. I remember one time a producer friend waking me in the middle of the night to ask how to write 1989 in said numbers. He had a deadline for the US and needed to finish editing. That taxed the last brain cell I possessed, I’ve never been the same since.
Today’s blog will be a little briefer as I have a huge promo this week and I’m spending hours learning how to do it better – I know, another learning curve.
Well having slept my way through Hoi An, we caught a plane the next morning for Ho Chi Min City that’s where we thought we were going, until we were welcomed to Saigon. With relief we remembered they were one and the same. In the more communist north the new name is paramount but in the south no one seemed to use it. We sensed some tensions between the north and south on several occasions and although the civil war is over, I’m not sure all is forgiven and forgotten.
Our hotel room wasn’t ready when we arrived, they were probably still tying the ribbon around that cushion, so they took us for a drive around and then to lunch at Chateau Restaurant.
Isn’t it amazing that a vestige of the French occupation should still be there? Obviously it was a tourist designated venue, and you have to admit the food preparation was just out of this world. DH is lucky if I just throw his food on the plate any old way.
As I saw them carry multiple plates from the kitchen I imagined rows of assistant cooks peeling , sculpting, twirling and pruning vegetables on the other side of the wall.
Then it was time for something much more serious – for next week.
Now I think George I was pretty boring really. Apart from locking his wife up and quarreling with his son who hated him for doing that, he just kept going to and from Hanover all the time. And it was on his sixth visit to his native land that he died. He suffered a stroke on the road and was taken to Prince-Bishop’s palace at Osnabruck and buried. After World war II his remains were moved to Herrenhausen – but please don’t ask my why I don’t have the faintest idea.
Tiny little place isn’t it?
And waiting in the wings, was George Augustus, named George II – at last it was his turn.
A huge thank you to the person(s) who entered Amie and the Child of Africa in the Readfree.ly top 50 Self-Published Books Worth Reading 2016. She made the list in the ‘other’ category. If you are feeling particularly benevolent, you might just like to vote for her? it’s good exercise, along the lines of my daily workout.
This is the link to click (I’m grovelling on the floor here and it’s not a pretty sight)