We aren't at all lonely of course, and we haven't really begun wandering, we are just content to be living on board, poking around, cleaning things, pulling them apart, putting them back together again.
Today it was the engine bay's turn, which has an oil tray that hasn't been emptied for a decade I suspect. Two buckets of oil soaked water removed and we can see the floor again. I was hoping to find a few spanners or even an entire tool kit buried deep down there, but really all I found were a few nuts and an old tea towel. Will someone remind me not to wear a white tee shirt when I do that next time?
Desperate to deflect attention from my zebra camouflaged shirt, I suggested that perhaps it was time to pay a visit to a proper supermarket and thankfully the ever clever guys at NavigFrance had just the means for those of us who are temporarily cycle challenged. We hired one of their courtesy cars and at a velocity approaching the speed of sound, although it can be said that any speed means sound in an old Dianne, we rocketed through the countryside to Sarrebourg, well away from the miscreant shirt, by then soaking in a concoction of sweet smelling oil smudging solution.
We were comforted as we went, that disguised as we were as a small piece of the sky, we would be invisible to the ever present radar cameras, should one be present in a thirty kilometre per hour zone on a downhill stretch.
Tomorrow, Michel is back at work and it remains to be seen if he'll be in camouflage as he tip-toes past en route to another task.