TEN LITTLE PIGGIES

WENT  TO MORZINE! by Sandy Brewer

Once upon a time there were 10 little piggies named Lyn, Graham, Pauline, Trevor, Sandy, Malcolm, Cheryl, Dudley, Paul and Eric, and in deepest darkest winter when all sensible little piggies are tucked up in front of the fire, these little piggies decided to meet to discuss THE HOLIDAY.

They duly took over the corner of a friendly hostelry at a central location and once piggy Eric had organised the matter closest to his heart (the catering arrangements) they began to plan. With the pub manager's approval a map of France was pinned up on the wall. Three hours later they had sort of roughed out the route. Piggy Lyn had already booked the middle static week of the holiday so the others were all allocated the hotels each should book for the outward and return journeys. No problem. (Oh yeah!)

As the time for this major adventure drew near the lady piggies had to discuss THE CLOTHES. They were all quite clear what was needed whilst the male contingent decided in their wisdom, that all they really needed were two pairs of knickers, one T-shirt and a hankie!

THE PACKING. This was fun. As the male piggies removed anything surplus to two pairs of knickers, one T-shirt and a hankie, the ladies surreptitiously put them all back, just lower down the suitcase out of sight.

THE JOURNEY. The great day dawned. Piggies, Eric, Sandy and Malcolm duly arrived at the appointed time and place, but no Lyn, Graham, Cheryl or Dudley. This was a major surprise. Piggy Eric (affectionately know as 'gadget-man' due to the fact that he can communicate, compute, or locate any item know to man) tried the new micro-chip in his mobile, but to no avail. Eventually the others arrived, the Mogs were given a long drink and off they all set for Calais where piggies Pauline and Trevor were to be met. (The tenth little piggy, Paul, was due to meet us in Morzine.)

After a pleasant crossing and breakfast and laden with ABSOLUTE NECESSITIES from the Duty Free shop, they proceeded to the first hotel in Brognon, noted mostly for the tiny portions of cheese served at dinner, the second in le Petit Pierre set in a forest by a lake, where the restaurant was in a dungeon below ground, and then on to the third at Soultz. The Chateau Stalag 10 was built before lifts were invented and our party were all located on the third floor. However, once fortified by a hearty meal they felt better. Here it was realised there could be a problem with the next venue in St. Hyppolyte.

Poor piggy Trevor when booking this hotel had not realised there were no fewer than eleven St. Hyppolytes in the area and he had booked the wrong one several k's north of where they wanted to be! Undaunted the piggies hurriedly booked another by 'phone in the right locale and although flagging slightly due to the lack of food intake within the last two hours, they drew up to the front of the hotel in the square with a flourish. Eek! they squeaked in unison! It was not as expected and it was 5.30pm. With no more ado piggy Lyn closely followed by piggy Eric shot across to the tourist information centre on the other side of the square. Some 45 minutes later (after the rest had had their wait enlivened by a minor altercation with one of the locals who apparently parked in the same place each evening whilst he supped his aperitif, they emerged triumphant waving a piece of paper. A new venue had been booked just down the road. Off they set with rumbling tums and sighs of relief to 'Le Panorama'.

This turned out to be 'different' to the usual 4/5 star accommodation previously enjoyed. Two wooden sheds, (holiday camp style) on the opposite side of the road to the hotel. Four piggies in one shed and five in the other. In the five bed shed, gadget man's bed was on the mezzanine which meant he had to go into Sandy & Malcolm's sloping attic room to change. (It was the first time he said he had been in a room where when the suitcase was opened the lid touched the ceiling!) However after the ablutions - they all got to know each other quite well at this stop - they trotted over the road for the most important event of the day. Dinner! It was delicious. Quite above their expectations. From sheer relief, the alcohol intake was a tad higher than normal and they did the 'farmyard bounce' (a newly created dance step) back to the sheds and proceeded to keep the neighbours awake with lusty renditions of songs of sty, screen and radio.

'The Sheds' - the suitcase was on the floor but touched the roof when opened!

The journey had taken them through the Alsace region of pretty medieval castles and painted houses and now into dramatic forests with steep inclines, sheer drops and incredible views. Grunts of admiration from the men and squeaks of terror from the ladies were heard echoing across the valleys.

The highlight of this step of the journey was Piggy Malcolm's raison d'etre for coming along - the Schlumph Museum. When we arrived and the Museum bods realised we were in Morgans, they opened the gates, ushered us inside and lined us all up in front of a gaping public. We ladies thought we would be bored, but we were almost as captivated by the spectacle as the men. Piggy Pauline said Malcolm looked as if he had just opened the best Christmas present ever as he wandered round identifying all his dream cars.

As soon as they were settled, M & S shot up the hill by Mog, to explore the chalet. Pauline was a bit puzzled how a piggy with short little legs like hers could get into a bath with approximately 7' high sides.

Priority 1 - FOOD AND DRINK! Shopping in the very petit supermarché became an event with five or six of us shopping for ten. Pauline was chief chef, assisted by everyone (picture that). The locals showed great forbearance at the checkout as we sorted out the FFs and tried to pack one huge trolley load of goods into the Mogs. After a while it became normal for the locals to see the Mogs with the poor passengers completely hidden by giant packs of toilet rolls and loaves of bread etc. This became such a smooth operation however that by the end of the holiday, while Malcolm played the car radio, Lyn and Graham were able to given an impromptu exhibition of ballroom dancing to the other shoppers in the car park.

The week in Morzine was highlighted by three events.

THE FONDUE DAY when six little piggies went for a ride and found fondue to die for at the bottom of a mountain, and made pigs of themselves, if you see what I mean.

THE TRIP TO ITALY to meet the Italian contingent of Anglemog i.e. Vittorio, at the Mont Blanc Tunnel with a real close-up encounter with Mont Blanc. Two white Mogs arrived instead of the expected one.

Vittorio had brought his nephew Matteo with him and the Gorgeous Gino had decided to come too. Led by Vittorio, they proceeded into Italy on a spectacular scenic run in hot sunshine through snow topped mountains. Lunch was in a picturesque chalet at the foot of a mountain and after the ladies had had a dignified scramble to sit next the Gorgeous Gino - Lyn won, she tried to woo him with her knowledge of things medical - the serious business of the day began. (Graham has since perfected a very passable imitation of Gino complete with sweater tied round the neck and shades hooked into the top of his shirt.)

	Graham preparing to lie down in the road to get a photo of the waterfall.

Two hours of leisurely eating and chatting later, they embarked on a further scenic run to Courmayeur where they reluctantly took their leave of Vittorio and co., after top-up refreshment to fortify them for the journey back. They made for home where Eric and Paul had been to the shops and purchased a huge fruit tarte and a carton of cream for the pud. Here they hit a snag. How could they thicken the cream without a whisk? Paul came to the rescue with an impromptu version of 'La Cucaraca' dancing round the kitchen holding the carton aloft and shaking it to the rhythm - voila! Time came to put Paul back on his plane and have a scenic run round Lake Geneva (or Lac Leman as we were in France.)

The piggies reluctantly took their leave of Morzine and embarked on the last leg of the holiday - THE JOURNEY HOME. They started off really well by getting stuck in the evening rush hour on the main bridge in Maçon town centre and then by getting lost on the way to the first hotel, but it was worth it. Nouveau Cuisine at its best in a rural setting with a little sparrow that would take food from Sandy's trotter. The following day they did a little wine tasting. In a medieval village in the middle of nowhere they were greeted by broad Scots accents in the square advising them to 'follow that lorry loaded with barrels' as he was going to a very good vineyard. He was right and the piggies spent a very pleasant hour or so tasting and selecting.

Onward, ever onward to the last few hotels, one marked by the fact that the fish served at dinner had been caught just outside the window in the stream. They were a little uneasy later when they discovered what else the river was used for, but no-one suffered. The holiday was coming to a close, the piggies were on the last leg. The routine on arrival at the hotels was check rooms, switch on showers, irons, heated rollers, tongs and razors, change and go down to dinner. (The French are still trying to work out a mysterious drop in power that seemed to take place each evening between the hours of 6 & 7 at various points in eastern and northern France during that time.)

A pleasant meal on the boat in the restaurant, disembark, smile sweetly a Customs and nine tired, but happy little piggies went Oui, Oui, Oui all the way home.

	Lyn and Graham doing their Frank and Peggy Spencer display.
Below, ready to leave Morzine for the journey home