Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Quite Beautiful

The scrawl in fountain pen across the green bit on the map said "Quite Beautiful" and given the complete accuracy of the scrawls thus far, we didn't doubt for a minute that it would be.

We quietly slipped away in the wee small hours, not much after eight, with only the sound of the frying bacon and tomato on our stove, and of course the dulcet tone of Mr Perkins breaking the morning still. There were we, alone on the river with Mr P's belches mingling with the morning mist, except for the company a thousand or so fisherman lining the banks, and one or two or maybe three hotel barges, wondering whether what we were seeing was actually "quite beautiful", or was it really better described in more superlatives?

"Stunning", perhaps.

Tuppence's notes against the town of Saarburg, not to be at all confused with the Sarrebourg that we are quite familiar with, indicated that it was quite pretty, but "a bit touristy", and therefore we thought it may well be to be exactly the right place to rest, perhaps after a ride on the chairlift, a climb to the top of the castle turret, a visit to the Mill, and a monster ice-cream beside the mill stream.

Here, I think Tuppence and we may diverge in our descriptions, sure, there were tourists there, and a chairlift too, but actually we think she had it right earlier in the day.

"Quite Beautiful"


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