Odds & Ends . . . (very odd !)

There are just a few things I wanted to say, which is to say, there are so many things I want to say, I hardly know where to start . . . so please bear with me if this post is a bit disjointed . . .
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A kind commenting reader voiced mild surprise the other day that I was only just now getting around to posting some photos I'd taken back in August. But the reality of the situation is, there are hundreds of photos taken back in August that I hope to be posting sooner or later in these pages, as well as many since then, and even more from before last August, not to mention the thousands of black and white negatives which are still slowly making their way through the waiting line at the lab to become digital files . . .
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So, where to start ? Perhaps with a reference to a post which was just re-posted a few days ago at Where's My Effing Pony, on the giddy subject of outhouses, or more precisely, porta-potties, and specifically, the dangers of having one fall over with you in it. I think it is safe to say that it requires a writer of some talent to bring such a subject to life and infuse it with hilarity; I will let you judge for yourself by going over there and reading the post for yourself. But I'd like to toss out, that between the post just referred to, and another at Not Waving but Drowning, there was quite a little discussion going there for a while as to whether or not there are any public toilets whatsoever in France, and if so, have they been cleaned any time recently ? So I present this photo taken yesterday in the town of Albert as proof that YES, there are public toilets in France. It is true that they are not always easy to find, but it is just not fair or balanced reporting to state that there are none. There are some, and I have found them. Much to my considerable. . . relief . . .
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Now, having cleared that matter up definitively I think, let's get on to the next subject in this ramble. For some reason, both the Sagittarian at More Canterbury Tales, and Jeff at Life Is Beautiful, have been going on about massages recently. Now, along with public facilities, it is important to be able to find a good massage should one need one urgently . . . so in case anyone was wondering, there are massage parlors in France, as this photo from Paris attests . . .
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And also on Life Is Beautiful, Jeff just posted a day or two ago a lovely photograph of a spider web, tying it into the notion of dreaming. To echo that, I'd just like to submit my own spider web photo taken a few weeks ago near the Bay of the Somme River . . .
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This next one may in fact summarize quite neatly all of my early conceptions of France . . . as a place where poodles were groomed with surprising sophistication. And yesterday, at long last, after years of searching I finally found an image to symbolize that early (no doubt cliché-ed) conception ! I was giggling so hard I could hardly focus my camera . . . thank goodness for auto-focus lens mechanisms ! (My early conceptions of France obviously evolved over time to more subtle ideological representations, with the necessary passage via Frank Zappa's song "In France", which expanded my understanding considerably. If you can't quite make out the lyrics in this YouTube version, Google the lyrics separately, they are priceless, and also mention the famous french poodle, so I was not the only one who had poodles linked to their perception of France !)
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This view puts the sign in perspective, it was not far from the central church in the town of Albert, which you will recall was at the heart of the Somme battlefield region in World War I. Albert was taken by the Germans in March 1918, only to be recaptured by the English & Australians & New Zealanders later that Summer. The church seen here was heavily damaged in the shelling of Albert.
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And to conclude this disjointed little rambunctious ramble (well, I warned you), is this photo which I considered posting separately under a (borrowed) title like "Weird Scenes From the Gold Mines". I will let you decide what you think is going on here and share your conclusions in the comment box . . .
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