Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, July 25, 2010


Something snapped yesterday afternoon.  We don't know what it was, but we knew that today we must leave, and because it's Sunday and the locks don't open till 9:00 we decided that we'd be there at the first lock ready and waiting.

But it was chilly overnight and we suffered a bit of blanket-suck and my head still hurt a bit from bounding out of bed in the middle of the night as though I were at home and entirely failing to remember that there is a wall beside the bed, right where my head would be if I were to bound out of bed as though I were at home.

Despite our reluctance to actually leave the Ikea doona, at 9:30 precisely we fired up ol' smokey and puttered out into the channel, still not quite sure which direction we would take.  In the end we went east (that is to say, we turned right for the benefit of the girl on board) and set off in direction Nancy.   

I know I mentioned it's Sunday, but it's worth noting that every town in France is closed on Sunday, every window shuttered tightly closed and every person disappears into thin air.  For that reason alone, we decided not to stop at many of the villages that would otherwise have beckoned and opted to motor past.

After a few hours, we felt old habits creeping back.  We started to feel an urgency about pressing on, just keep going until we get to the end of the day.

So we stopped for lunch, and had a sleep, and a hot shower (because we could), and once the feeling had subsided, we took off again, drinking coffee and munching apple and almonds as we went.

By the time the summer sun failed to go down, we had travelled  almost 29 kilometres in the day, down eight locks and after it all we just feel happy without the "tired" bit.


1 comment

Julie said...

Slowing down takes commitment, I gather.

Strange, I know, but I have trouble with right and left needing to give a hand signal, whereas NSEW is a bodily necessity and I cannot move until I get it straight in my head.

I wonder if maybe those old froggies just might have Sundays right ...

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