There is nothing that more clearly signifies that the cruising year is coming to a close than booking the hotel in Paris for that last night before the aeroplane departs. Peter and Joan quite coincidentally are travelling on the same flight this year, so we made that booking together this morning, and they quietly slipped away through the trees, under the bridge and into the space where the morning mist had been, leaving us to quietly consider where the year had gone.
There was nothing terribly quite about the rest of the day however, which somehow morphed into an encore of last night’s performance, just as noisy, but with half the crowd.
Things were all very civilised for the first half of the evening, which took the form of a quiet dinner with Graham and Jill at our place, but as the evening wore on and we repaired to the good ship Matilda Rose, we found ourselves once again on a very slippery downhill slope! The last hour of the last night at the Proms performance was televised live via their satellite, and we were introduced to a sort of interactive madness that we had not considered previously. Song sheets were distributed along with Union Jacks on sticks suitably trimmed to narrow boat proportions, and we somehow found ourselves in the midst of an admittedly tiny crowd singing “Rule Britannia” and "Land of Hope and Glory" with what would have been inappropriate gusto had we not been hermetically sealed inside the vast steel tube.
Perhaps tomorrow, we thought as we wandered back to our (silent) home, we could sneak away and find somewhere quiet and isolated to moor!
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