Or so sang Willie Nelson…
I’ll be honest, I mostly, almost entirely, use Facebook to publish my blog. I have even recently noted that I find the whole Facebook thang basically insidious. All that digging around in my in-box for names I might know…(could they possibly just mind their own business?)
But it is interesting to see what people are up to.
Last week, I dropped what I consider to be a wad of cash to spend a week listening to nothing but crickets in the underbrush and cricket on the radio (sic). No hum of motor cars, just he silence of the Tuscan hills and, of a moment, the whisp of gently burning Cuban tobacco.
In the mean time, I look at Facebook and see not one, but several entries from “friends” enjoying the various bars of St. Tropez…These photos show people packed like sardines into restaurants, wielding empty bottles of Cristal (which will hurt when reality shows its ugly face tomorrow morning without a euro to buy a croissant) and generally filling (sic) their nights with public displays of vacuous frivolity.
I suppose they can comfort themselves by strolling along the quayside, like rush-hour in Peking, gazing at the boats of people far richer than themselves. Ah, la honte!
During my days in Meursault the “Beaune Crew” would head down en masse, splash the cash and (presumably) impress each other, or perhaps proving who was more shallow than the next – and believe me, in viticultural Beaune the competition is fierce.
But I suppose, who am I to judge? Some go on holiday to seek peace, quiet and calm; others for incestuous company in numbers and to get fleeced. Each to their own.
“But forgive me love, if I don’t understand”.