Tonight we are as close as it is possible I suspect to being in the middle of nowhere in France. We knew as we visited lock 34 yesterday on our bikes, that we would not be able to pass it by when we approached by boat, so here we sit in what would be the shade of the pine trees if they weren't in the shade of the clouds.
We are almost two kilometres from a village in any direction, looking at rolls of hay, and rain falling on the hills beyond. It's summer and of course the weather is cold and wet but weatherwise there are much brighter prospects on the horizon for the week ahead.
I'm sure that once again we'll watch as once again the the trickle of cyclists turn into a flood as the weekend clears and warms, but for now we are content to just sit in our solitude, watching the trees grow, quietly reading or wandering up to the cottage for coffee with Urs and Doris and wondering why it will be a week into the future before I find time to post this note.