Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, April 09, 2015

A day in town.

It had not been a terribly late night out, nor had we had a terribly early morning, but when we did deign the time appropriate for us to rise, we felt as animals must as they slowly emerge from hibernation.    Despite the clear blue sky or some would say because of it, even with almost no remnant of the overnight frost to be seen the chill was still bordering on uncivilised as we sprinted from our little heated space to the warmth of the car. 

There’s nothing not to enjoy about the drive between Lagarde and Lunéville.  It’s the the sort of gently winding undulating country road that makes one feel as though one is in a cigarette commercial or perhaps an after-shave one, although come to think of it being in either of those would require the absence of a roof and long locks of billowing hair and perhaps a galloping white horse, none of which were to hand, which possibly tempered the romance of it all ever so slightly as did the fresh loads of winter manure being ploughed into some of the fields. 

All that aside there was the serious town business to be done: sorting out our banks and internet and buying enough provisions to get us through the next famine or at least for a week or two or tomorrow, until we can access a supermarket again.    

And then we just had to take that drive one more time, enjoying being in it far too much to stop and take a photo. 


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