Legends from our own lunchtimes

Friday, September 12, 2014

- Metz

While we were sleeping a day or two ago, that pesky narrowboat bearing Graham and Jill snuck into town and moored under our very noses.

We tried looking the other way, avoiding eye contact, being where they weren’t, but the town was too small for all of us. At every turn it seemed that our paths would cross although some of those crossings we hasten to add were not at all accidental.  

Eventually we could avoid them no more, and as we had done a few days ago in Toul accepted their very kind offer or perhaps under a different interpretation of what happened, invited them to make curry for ourselves and as many friends as we could muster aboard the good ship Matilda Rose.

Fortunately for them, we could only muster Joan and Peter, who were due to leave on the morrow, and they brought Deb and Kevin even up the score.   So there we were, eight adults, two medium sized dogs, a cat, two guitars and a pot plant on a boat that was somewhat less wide than I am tall.

In a narrow boat, parties happen in single file, perhaps that is why line dancing was invented.

The night was fairly long, and not entirely quiet, and a jolly good time was had by all.  In the morning though, even the buildings downtown appeared to be a tad bleary-eyed and I wonder if we'd kept them up too.


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