The words of "our" television journalist Barbara kept ringing in my ears today as we continued our mad dash towards the railway station at Bar-le-Duc. We had at least eight kilometres or so to reach our overnight harbour at Ligny-en-Barrois, making it our third straight day on the run without a break.
We would normally have stopped of course, and poked around, poked again perhaps, bought a baguette then had a rest before continuing, or perhaps not continuing at all for a day or two, but as so many have warned us, having guests aboard imposes destinations and deadlines, and deadlines are there to be met. They aren't plans that can be thwarted, they are deadlines that meet up with railway schedules and force us to have contingencies and to get underway early in the morning when four pairs of eyes are barely open.
Nine o'clock it was this morning. Nine!
Surprisingly the sun was up and we were able to get a few things done without groping around in the dark, and even more surprisingly "Melinda" was gone, having slipped away a few hours before, as quietly as 150 tons of steel can slip.
What we "normally do" definitely does not involve waking Mr Perkins at nine!
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