A year ago we were in Port-sur-Saone and lamented that the lack of bicycles aboard prevented us from travelling as far away our legs would allow, there being not much within the town that we hadn't seen after the first fifteen minutes of discovery.
Is there any irony therefore in the fact that this year on a Monday to boot, and being moored no fewer than twelve kilometres away, we used our bicycles not to escape, but to revisit the very same spot? We did this perhaps filled with some sense of optimism that things may have changed in the interim, but mostly I think filled with a desire to simply roll along on our bicycles beside the river, through the cornfields under a clear blue sky.
That and the need to find a post office.
Or perhaps we were simply drawn, like flies to honey or garden gnomes to a beaded curtain depicting a tropical paradise.
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