We thought we’d sneak off without waking Joan and Peter who are in cruising mode, not travelling as we are, but Mr Perkins took it on himself to roar into life this morning rather than purr, shaking those in the boat astern from their slumber, rattling anything that wasn’t bolted down just to make sure before settling into his normal.
They must have had a speedy getaway though as they found us resting in Pont-a-Mousson and joined us for coffee and more of the sensational produce of the bakery there, but there they stayed and we went on.
We are in commuting mode now. We have a deadline or two and need to get to Toul, but it’s not as though the day brought any hardship.
“Perfect” would be an inadequate way of describing our commute on glassy water under clear sky. It takes a day such as this, with a clear blue sky and water so still that our wake was the only disruption on its surface to truly understand the meaning of the term “floating on air”. Too much of this is barely enough and had it not been for the immutable fact that the sun would set eventually, we could have gone on forever.
Instead, we stayed at Pompey in the late afternoon, watching as the breeze slowly took the mirror from the water, and the clouds gently built within the blue. Wondering if tomorrow could possibly be the same.