The middle daughter took part in Bordeaux’s second Zombie Walk yesterday. It’s a gloriously silly event where lots of the young, and not quite so young, splatter themselves liberally in fake blood and other gory acoutrements and gather in the Place de la Bourse, before lurching around the streets of Bordeaux hoping to scare the living daylights out of passers by, well give them a little bit of a frisson, as well as a giggle. The walk had been quite well reported in advance this year so there weren’t a lot of people who were very surprised at seeing that the undead had invaded rue St Catherine. Last year when it was just a Facebook event that took off the zombies apparently scored some real results especially when they surrounded a tram and started rapping on the windows.
It’s all fun and very good humoured, though the daughter said that the proprietor of the bar where she and a group of friends stopped off for a drink did seem a little worried that they might be driving away customers. However the most surprising thing about the whole even is how many men tried to hit on my daughter; they were shoppers too, not fellow zombies.
Of course my daughter is beautiful, charming, witty etc and I’m never surprised when she attracts attention but even maternal prejudice has a limit. I can see that there’s really a delightful girl here, but honestly if I had a son and he decided that this was his idea of a dream date I’d be more than a little worried.