None of us felt particularly like braving the river today, not by boat at least, so "washing day" was called, and after a few boat chores were done the bicycles came out and we all four set off with intent, in search of morning sustenance in a village nearby, or ten or so kilometres up the river for those who want to be pedantic.
There was a place in that village, we were assured by Ron and Robin, where they had once stayed, or had lunch, or was it coffee, or perhaps they'd just seen it on the map, but whatever the case despite our warning that things are never open if we set out to visit them with intent, they convinced us that this time with them accompanying us, it would be different.
Therefore as we followed the last bend in the river before the village and the little Auberge came into view below the bridge, and we could clearly see its open doors and colourful umbrellas shading it's chequered cloth clad tables we were flushed with a new found optimism, imagining what treats would be ours after just a few more minutes of pedalling effort.
If we had not seen the sign on the bridge as we climbed to the top of its approach, the barricading, workmen and machinery which became visible once we were on its pavement level would have given the game away. It was, sadly, in a rather substantial state of being "maintained",
"Closed" said the sign. "Deviation" said another with an arrow suggesting we might be well advised to return to where-ever it was that we had come from, and cross the river there.
So we sat in the shade, and ate our apples and convinced ourselves that it probably wasn't going to be all that good over there anyway.