If Mr Waiting was forlorn outdoors yesterday, his mood didn't appear to improve as we stripped him of his frame and hung him on a temporary support to contemplate his fate, under the hungry stare of Dume's bat, pending our return in a month or two to see what we can do to resurrect him.
Another night of food and conviviality failed to produce any more opportunity for sleep than did the previous, and although we were invited to remain to make it a hat-trick of food and merriment, the road north beckoned.
Another round of internet service provider negotiations provided us with a non functioning modem and directions to download the latest software from the internet. Just how one was to achieve that without access to the modem was not explained, not even in French.
By the time we left in light drizzle, sufficient to reduce the speed limit on the motorways to 110, we weren't particularly looking forward to spending the five hours it would take to drive to reach Manatee in the confines of our little car. The holiday traffic as we drove through Paris, did nothing to raise our spirits, but despite it all, we managed to arrive more or less in good humour.
Manatee herself was in a similar position to our poor painting, having been stuck in the middle of a commercial shipyard near Belgium for almost a week while bow thruster repairs failed to be completed.
It was of course fantastic to catch up with Graham and Iris and our old cabin, in which we'd spent so much time last year. It was specially fantastic to be in bed before Cinderella's coach returned to its vegetative state.
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