Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, June 12, 2011

This time we really meant it.  We would leave first thing.

After a bit of a wander through town and a quick visit to the museum and running a couple of loads of washing and lunch, "first thing" quickly arrived and in a puff of smoke we were off. To where we knew not, but in those first smokey minutes I wondered if one's fairy godmother whom legend has it makes an appearance in a similar puff,  is actually conveyed by a Perkins.

In an hour or two there would be a branch in the canal and we'd have to make a decision as to where we might be headed but until that time arrived here didn't seem to be any point in worrying about it too much.

It came as quite a surprise then, when at the last lock in the chain, still many kilometres from our decision point, the eclusier required information as to which direction we were headed. Despite my bravado when faced with conversation, my comprehension of his language could be described as somewhat less than "inadequate".

In times like these the contents of my skull reduce themselves to a quivering mass of something that invokes panic in my voice and so it was that the first town that came into my head was Vitry-en-Francois. Fortunately he understood my single stammered word, so "direction Vitry" it will be.

Another decision had been neatly made, without fuss or debate.

Now we just need to work out where Vitry is.

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