Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Mr Perkins goes to town .. or somewhere like that.
Lagarde 11th September

Duncan was due to arrive at about ten, and the thing that is entirely un-French about Duncan (if one ignores for instance his name, or perhaps his accent) is that if he says he will be somewhere at about ten, he means about ten.

One of the problems with being in France and having someone actually arriving when they say they will, is that no one will be there to meet with them if they do.    Thus it was that at exactly ten minutes to about ten, Michel was still having a few problems with the boat that was being held up by the crane, Bill had been called to an emergency breakdown an hour away, and the rain started coming down in buckets of stuff that could almost pass for party ice.

Michel, being Michel, immediately secured his project, sorted out the crane slings for us and proceeded to oversee the operation.   In no time at all we had all the lifting bits in place and the crane not struggling at all, but Mr Perkins hung on grimly, like a pre-schooler clinging to his mother's skirt on the first day of school.

All bolts were free, yet his mounts refused to budge, even while lifting the boat entirely out of the water.   Once again someone called for the emergency hammer and a big pipe, and once again substantial force was brought to bear until finally he released his grip.  Defeated, Mr Perkins sat quietly and perfectly still while Duncan bolted him to the pads on his trailer floor, and as far as we know behaved himself all the way to his winter home.

If we felt awkward yesterday living in a boat with an engine that was disconnected, living on a boat with no engine just felt weird.

No comments

Blogger Template Created by pipdig