Stupidly, in a momentary lapse of not thinking through the consequences, perhaps in haste in the face of the storm that wreaked havoc with last night’s concert, we announced that we were going to leave as soon as the locks opened this morning. “That’s right”, we said in reply to the horrified expressions that greeted us, “We will be off at seven.”
How were we to know that they’d all set their alarms to make sure we left? Yet there they were, George and Karen and Jacques and Cathy, shaking our hands and hugging and kissing us goodbye, apparently oblivious to the fact that our eyes weren’t entirely open at that unseemly hour. We took the hint and drifted away from our spot between the chateau and where the band once was, took one last look at the what was left of last night’s concert, the pile of broken deckchairs and twisted awnings, and headed towards home.
Unbelievably, we are on our way back. In a few days the cleaning and packing will begin. In a week we will be off the boat, heading for a place where the grass may even at the end of winter be ever so slightly greener than it is here, but today we spent the afternoon in Lutzelbourg, happy to catch up on the sleep that we were deprived of this morning.
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