We had a little plan to arrive in Auxonne tomorrow, just ambling down the river doing not much, but having travelled the distance planned for two days yesterday, short of overshooting the town and coming back there wasn’t much we could do to prevent a premature arrival.
We’re going to stay here for a bit, below the window that Napoleon used to gaze from when his mind wandered from his lectures in field marshallry or advanced cannon shooting or whatever it was he was learning at the time. If he could see us now lolling around on his river putting off till tomorrow what we really must do, he’d probably be rubbing that (possibly) ulcerated tummy of his even more vigorously.
That’s one thing we’re determined not to do, give ourselves ulcers, so with a healthy dose of procrastination in mind aided by an ever so slight dose of whatever it was that caused the writer to adopt a Napoleonesque pose for a few days earlier in the month, we might even wait until Saturday mid day to get the boat ship-shape before Les arrives.
No comments
Post a Comment