The day after Nancy

We've felt it before, the type of hangover that comes after a day like yesterday.

It's not one the sort of unwell that one apparently suffers after drinking too much of Mummy's special red cordial, but a sort of hollowness that appears somewhere deep within as a cloak of silence falls over the space in the harbour where once there was a boat.   Only a few of our number drifted off to continue their travels, but we all felt it, a sort of quasi-sadness that the party that had been the last few days had come to an end, thankfully taking with it the worst of the heat.

Of those, Niels looked after the dogs while Helle went to Paris to source some clothes, Georgi went to Paris too in an attempt not to resolve some immigration questions, Edith and Peter just went, taking their kids with them, as did Kees and Julie, creating even more spaces while the rest of us busied ourselves doing the sorts of things one does when one doesn't particularly want to do anything.

Perhaps to reassure ourselves that there was indeed life beyond the harbour front, we wandered off to town for the afternoon.