Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Choissey to Dole

Even we are surprised at how often we seem to run into friends we have made on the waterways in other pars of the country or even in other countries as we slowly make our way across the face of the planet.

When we arrived in Choissey therefore we should not have been at all taken aback to find the only boat at the little landing provided by the village, was occupied by Jan and Toby who were travelling in the opposite direction. This of course gave us the opportunity to conduct both a reunion and a farewell on successive days, and while our journey to Dole was barely three kilometres, we did manage to drag out our departure to the extent that we barely made it in time for lunch.

We have a soft spot for Dole; it is a beautiful place and the streams of the former tanneries running under the town leave an amazing legacy, as does the historical fact that Louis Pasteur was born and raised in one of its houses.

We got lost here once while driving, which is not a good thing to be in a city whose streets are barely wide enough to fit two people abreast, and form an ever narrowing labyrinth.  A small car with its mirrors folded will fit we discovered, albeit by driving occasionally across someone's front step.  At one point during that adventure we gave passing thought to dismantling the thing and carrying it out piece by piece.

All ended happily of course, but not before Graham had walked ahead doing a reasonable impersonation of a man with a bell and a red flag, moving motorbikes and wheelie bins as he went, and persuading unsuspecting drivers who thought they were minding their own business by simply driving up the street in the correct direction to reverse back for the idiot foreigner.

Thankfully no-one seemed to recognise us from that day, or if they did they weren't admitting it.


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