When Jack and Brii went to collect their little Renault hire car in Paris, it had morphed into a rather larger, very black, very fast, very German car of the kind that very bad people drive in movies. It’s also the sort of car that it appears would be very easy to offload in a hurry if one found the necessity, given the number of people who offered to swap it for their various work vans and bicycles as we encountered them.
Despite having almost completely depleted their travel budget in speeding fines on the way down from Paris, they happily agreed that since we were within a few tens of kilometres of the heart of the Burgundy wine area, a short road trip may be an way of seeing a little more of the area, and we decided that we would get underway first thing.
I am not sure what the Army considers to be first thing, but I gather from one or two things that Jack hinted at that when we did get away in time (just) for a late, leisurely and very pleasant lunch in Beaune, almost forty kilometres away, our definition may differ somewhat to his.
In any event we’d finished lunch by four more or less, wandered through the grounds of a chateau by five, had bought some of the regions product and were home by six, parking the car safely within twenty metres or so of where our day had begun.