Simon Pocock
We had a very quiet Christmas with all the children, only now things have changed: they are grown up which means they eat and cost more than they used to.
On Christmas morning, we followed our usual routine: everyone lies in bed until I have prepared the bird and put it in the oven, then suddenly they all appear and exclaim: “Oh, you should have said, I wanted to help, etc”.
After our lunch, we walked down to the beach to burn off the calories and to play football (nothing like a bit of exercise to make us feel better after having gorged on a huge feast). Aftewards, Bas, feeling brave (or mad, not sure), stripped off to dive into the sea. Mad, definitely.
The following day, Boxing Day, was also a fairly calm one, until about an hour after lunch when I suddenly started to feel queasy. I had only eaten 6 oysters (usually, your average French diner will eat a dozen, (sometimes 13 as oyster sellers tend to give customers what is called “13 à la douzaine”: a 13th oyster in case there is a bad one among the dozen). Anyway, I had never had a bad reaction before, but this time, for the next 4 hours, I was quite ill. Eventually, at around 8 in the evening, I just passed out. Poor Pauline called an ambulance and I ended up spending the night in the local hospital, where they performed various tests on me: they ran heart and blood tests, but in the end it was just a case of bad intoxication by the oysters, so I don’t think I’ll be eating them again for a long time. I have certainly been put off: the thought alone of eating oysters makes me feel really sick.
Today, the old fanfare of Plestin did a gig at the port of Locquirec, while a dozen brave (dare I say “mad”, once again?) people swam in the sea.
They do say that if you swim everyday you get used to it, but I think I’ll stick to the music and the mulled red wine for the time being. One night in hospital is enough for the time being.
A happy new year to my blog followers and may 2012, the Year of the Dragon, be good for you all.
Sorry to hear about the oyster problems, I don’t like them at all! I did try one over Christmas, the French really do love their oysters… my boyfriend’s family must have eaten them every day over the festive season!
I didn’t really start eating oysters until 4 or 5 years ago. My wife’s family are in Bordeaux and it’s a tradition for them to have oysters as part of their Sunday afternoon / evening meal. Their oysters come from the Bassin d’Arcachon.
When we’re at our holiday home near La Roche Bernard (Brittany / Pays de la Loire border) we now ritually pick up a dozen size 3 oysters from the market on Thursday mornings, and then share these as our entrée.
Touch wood, we have never had the misfortune to eat a bad one, but understand that it can be quite serious – hope you’re well again now Simon.
You hear lots of different comments afterwards such as never buy oysters from a supermarket around Christmas as they stockpile them and they aren’t fresh much better to buy direct from a market seller or chewing versus swallowing , the next time you are more sensitive. Still think I’ll give them a miss this lifetime.