Eddie leaves Tom and Greta for the sanctity of the SW coast oa West Med, as we say in the trade. His favrit place is the smaall coastal village of Collioure near Perpignon. There is onli one road in an' one out which makes it a nightmare in the height of season: but Eddie's trick is travel daan to the village at night when awl of the tourists have left the resort returnin' to their 'Eurocamp' tents oa 'mobile homes' dependin' on how well fixed they are. Originally, the fishing village actually functioned but now there onli a few boats that venture out in search of sardine, shrimp, an' oddli enuff, 'crabs'. Each cottage has been painted a different quite vivid colour; this was to enable the fishermen to recognise their own place whilst being miles out at sea, by way of comfort an' a feelin' of security. Eddie was awlso told that the fisherman used to wear heavy, fick sweaters, not just against cold winter winds but becawse if they were swept ova board they would sink like a stone hastenin' their 'orrible drowin' deff. Gruesome oa wot?
Setting up by the harbour near the uvva smaall fishermen's vans Eddie would be camouflaged from pryin' traffic bobbies who were constantly 'movin' on cheeky tourists. He was awlso able to liberate the odd bag of sardines oa prawns oa anyfink that was offered by the generous local fishermen.
Simple Sardines
Roughly gut the fish an' skewer on thin driftwood sticks: the wood renders that extra bit of natural sea flavour that makes awl the difference. Rummage around the numerous, abandoned barbeque piles that have been left by wasteful tourists securin' sufficient fuel. Supplement the coals wiv some moa driftwood an' dried seaweed. Gentli cook the fish ova the wonderfully fragrant heat. Devour the spoils as the sunsets ova the harbour wiv several gaasses of dry white. It doesn't get much betta than that.
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