It may not have been quite bleak today, but it almost was. There certainly wasn’t enough sunshine to lighten the countenance of the characters on the rubbish enclosures in the port. They are curious figures, she and her mate who rather obscurely point the way to the bins within. The building was intended to be a bathroom facility, but sometime between getting the outside finished and the signs done was repurposed, leaving some cheery but perhaps not entirely clear graphics to lighten our day.
Even then we had to borrow the sunshine from yesterday to provide that little light. No word from Mr Perkins’ doctors on the state of play of his much needed vitals left us curiously unconcerned, although a deliciously late response from Europcar (there I’ve named them!) to a request for assistance with an issue with the rental car may have left us with an expression a of bemusement not unlike that we may have were we destined to be a toilet but ended up as a refuse room.
In reply to our request on the thirteenth of this month, which at last count was exactly twelve days ago, the “customer service” person politely apologised for the delay in response, and suggested we get in touch with the “pick up station” as soon as possible. Since that note arrived precisely eight hours after our rendezvous with the “drop-off” station, one suspects that a response may be drafted in tones as icy as the night that is still to come!
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