The trouble with stopping to smell the flowers. Wednesday May 24 Lagarde

The trouble with stopping to smell the flowers is that at this time of year, you can get a nose full of fluffy stuff that sticks in the back of your throat and makes you gag, or if you’re lucky it’ll only be a puff of pollen, or a cloud of farm dust either of which make the sinuses itch and the eyes water adn create big black bags under them.   

It has to be the pollen causing those bags, I doubt that its the late nights and early mornings or all the laughter,  We’ll have to wait a day or two to find out, because even though team Switzerland cruised off into the morning sunshine, Ron and Robin decided to stay “just one more night”.

I’m not sure what we were planning to do today, but whatever it was, we most certainly did something else instead.

Never do today what can be put off till tomorrow. Tuesday May 23 Lagarde

We had things to clean today, really we did but Ralph and Anita were cruising past this afternoon on their way down stream from their home in Switzerland, saw we were here and stopped for the night.  Ron and Robin having finished preparing their own boat turned up a few hundred kilometres off course in a car as well, so there seemed no alternative that to get together until the sun went down, and stay together thereafter for a good deal longer as well.

Four Aussies, two Kiwis and a couple of Swiss, all good mates, hanging around for hours outside a public toilet.

Life does not get any better (or classier) than this!

Road Trip! Monday May 22 Saarlouis

Lagarde is a pleasant little village in the middle of nowhere and to be a little blunt about the place we like to call home at least for a few weeks every year, in the words of the old hit song, "It’s a long way to the shop if you want a Chiko Roll."

When Grahame and Aileen arrive each year, they hire a car for a week or two (as do we) to scratch around provisioning, sorting out odds and ends, and taking their mates for long drives in the country.   

This morning we were in the car before they could say “and perhaps we’ll have lunch at Ikea”, barrelling through the German countryside, although the photo may have been taken in France.  It does look a bit as if the chap in the dashboard GPS is trying desperately to escape rather than pointing to where we we should be going, but our spider senses got us to that giant hardware store in Saarlouis, and our brand new credit cards got the boot filled with all sorts of jobs for the coming days.

We must have been good kids too, because Aileen bought us all an ice-cream on the way home.

Rather pleasant. Sunday - May 21 Lagarde

It seems like a lifetime, but it was barely three weeks ago we since we were here, shivering in our boots, looking out over a landscape that was on the bleak side of comfortable.  Yet here we are, spring is over and we are barbecuing in bare feet and tee shirts, looking out at trees in the final flush of finding their new summer coats.

That really is what we have never understood about spring.   It’s called a “season” but it is over in not much more than a morning, which coincidentally perhaps is about the same time that spring cleaning inside the boat took.  The outside remains the victim of some sensible procrastination.  Given that at the last opportunity he constantly complained that it was far to cold to venture outside with buckets and suds, what possible excuse could he find now you may ask.

Well, why would one waste such a perfect day cleaning? 

So much for mental notes. - Saturday May 20th Nancy to Lagarde

The problem with writing things down in such a public manner as this, is that eventually one can be held to task for what one writes.  When writing this stuff, one holds on to a very faint hope that even in the unlikely event that it is read, no-one would bother to remember any of it. Therefore it was with some confidence that no-one would take us to task these words were written almost three weeks ago:

“We made a mental note of things we’ll definitely do on the way back.  We will walk the new history trail in Einville, we will visit the Brewing and Cinema museums at St-Nicholas-du-Port and we will definitely take four or five days to travel the distance that usually takes us one or two, and we will linger everywhere for more than a night.”    

That was the plan when we set out this morning.  There can be no doubt about it; “four or five days”, we said, “usually a night or two”.  We motored off into the morning gloom without hurry, stopping between squalls to visit both of the canal-side supermarkets above the first lock, while the rain held itself at bay.   

Events took a curious turn after that. Lock after lock presented itself to us ready for entry, not one of them breaking down or causing delay.  We watched helpless as village after village crept past without giving thought to pause.  With minutes to spare before the locks closed for the night we arrived in Lagarde, a little confused and perhaps a week earlier than we had intended.    Thankfully we are among friends, they will no doubt ply us with a few glasses of special counselling fluid and in the morning we won’t even remember what we missed.

Gathering Moss - Friday May 19th Nancy

We thought we might be in trouble this morning, well it was barely past midnight but it still counts as today when we were shocked out of our slumber by what sounded like a truck in the middle of a major accident involving huge quantities of combustible materials.   Thankfully the explosion turned out to be nothing more than a lightning strike somewhere very, very close but not close enough to do more than wake us with hearts pumping a bit more than their usual resting rate.

That turned out to be the most exercise our hearts would get during the entire day that followed.  The storm that shook us so in the middle of the night turned into a solid sheet of rain that did not relent until well in the afternoon.   Under the circumstances, going nowhere seemed to be a particularly good idea, perhaps tempered with a spot of reading and generally doing not much but listen to the sound of that slow drip from the badly repaired tap.   

One of us did venture a few metres from the boat during a brief lull, to record the fact that we were actually here so that when we wake up tomorrow we’ll remember where we are.

Another day in the office - Thursday May 18th Pont-à-Mousson to Nancy

If life only comprised floating almost aimlessly along rivers under clear blue skies, watching the relics of thousands of years of history pass by as we did all day yesterday, where would the fun be?

That is doubtless why, after just one day in shorts and tee shirt, we were back in jumpers and rain gear.  The clouds which formed overnight began emptying themselves even before we left our snug little bunk to get the morning bread. It’s quite possibly why once again the breeze picked up when least we wanted it, from the wrong side when we were wanting to moor, from dead ahead when we were trying to pick up speed, from behind when we wanted to slow down.

It’s probably also why we had delays with lock repairs and when we finally got to stop to buy our new tap fittings and even install them, the leak persists.   It’s definitely why after resealing the front window for the third time, that leak persists too.   It made us wonder why the Romans went to all that trouble to build aqueducts, if they had wanted a continuous supply of running water inside, all they needed was a boat.

Bobsledding in Jamaica - Wednesday May 17th Metz to Pont-à-Mousson

We may be four or even five hundred kilometres from the nearest beach, but there's no reason why we can’t have the kids round for the odd game of beach volleyball or “volley” as it is known here.   The elections are over so the town square won’t be needed for a riot in the near future and the market stalls don’t mind setting up on a bit of sand for a month or so apparently, so why not truck in a squillion tonnes of sand, bus in kids from anywhere we can find them every evening for a month or so, and hold a regional championship?

There’s no fancy stadium, even at centre court, no security, no charge to watch and all the fun you can eat.  Oh, and as a bonus no one asked any of those present with cameras not to take photos?

This is what we like about summer in Europe, there's a joy about it which seems to know no bounds when it comes to celebrating it.  Why today even we were out and about in our shorts and sandals.

Laugh if you must. - Tuesday May 16th Metz

When the temperature gets to around thirty-two degrees in our own Antipodean summer, it’s pleasant enough at first but by the third day of it, after the mildest exertion even women cease to ‘glow’ and simply sweat like the rest of us.  Then the humidity begins to bear down on us like some sort of cross we must endure.  At that point we start blaming things for our discomfort; land clearing, humidity or global warming or perhaps dare I say it, a cumulation of years.

It’s different here.  Here when the sky turns blue and the temperature dial begins to rise, it’s time to take off all but that which is necessary for decency and to sit in the sun or to frolic out there as though it may never come again.  Warmth, no matter how excessive it may be, is something to celebrate.  It should be noted though that these temperatures never quite make it to the shadows, and that is precisely where the habits of a lifetime would have us lurk.

Today when ubiquitous pharmacy thermometers proudly flashed their bright green neon telling us that it was thirty-two degrees on the sunny side of the street we were surprised to say the least, still dressed as we were in wooly socks and jeans, with jumpers around our necks “just in case”. There was a definite chill in the wind in the depth of those shadows in which we hid.

Perhaps if we could sit in the dappled shade for a to convince ourselves that no harm will come from the sun.  If we learn to go out in it we’ll be able to leave the jumpers at home like the rest of them.

The Mystery of the Torii Gate - Monday May 16th Metz

Travel does nothing if not fill one’s head with information that otherwise one would have considered useless or perhaps not considered at all.   Take for instance the traditional Japanese Torii Gate, a structure with which, given our recent journeys we are not entirely unfamiliar.  At the entrance to a Shinto shrine the gate symbolically marks the transition from the profane to the sacred.  Profane is used here in the literal sense; “that which is secular” rather than when used to describe of a bunch of very rude words.

Armed therefore with just enough knowledge to be dangerous, we set out in search of a reason for this particular gate’s being.   Were we moored on the profane side of it or on the sacred?  Had the Shinto followers in Metz decided to save on construction costs by usurping part of the cathedral for their own shrine?

A quick scan of the resources available to us yielded no clue, but we did discover that increasingly smaller versions of the gate are being used in Japan as a symbol to discourage littering and public urination.  If indeed that is the underlying reason for its being, it seems to be working at least as far as we can tell, although it doesn’t seem to have a hundred percent strike-rate on dog poo.

But I know what I like. - Sunday May 14th Metz

 “The immersion in a garden sometimes goes as far as the act of absorption, leading to the culture and consumption of psychotropic plants…...healing, intoxicating or poisoning chemistry, the ingestion of plants produces recreational and toxic uses, leading to new states of consciousness. Alchemy can even go further  ...... pushes this symbiosis to its utmost limit and imagines a “fantastic universe of seeds, germs and ferments where the human species would have become permeable to the plant and animal kingdoms.”

With those cheery thoughts, and many more buzzing in our heads, we left the Centre Pompidou wondering exactly what we had just seen.  The exhibition entitled “Infinite Garden” was challenging in parts, often leaving us in awe of the artist’s skill in convincing the world that his humble experiments were worthy of inclusion in a major exhibition.  This process made even more astonishing in many cases by the fact that many of the artists have long been pushing up the very daisies that inspired them so.

It was Monet who left the greatest mark as he often does: “When he starts to create his famous garden in Giverny, where he paints his Water Lilies, Claude Monet meets with local resistance, people fear that the specimens imported from Japan would poison the surrounding streams. Far from being anecdotal, this struggle reflects the fantasy of an invasive alterity that foreign plants convey.”   It was with some relief that we discovered on reading this line, that we would no longer be returning to the mess that is our own garden after months of absence, but we can actually look forward to “the fantasy of an invasive alterity”.

Are we interrupting something?- Saturday May 13th Metz

If only Sir Bannister Fletcher could have described the fun that is to be had in travelling through time, or even if had just paused for a moment in the production of his dry old tome to suggest that if one popped into the museum in Metz for just one afternoon all would become clear as crystal, none of those pre-exam nightmares would have been necessary and the study of history could have been a joy.

It’s a small museum really, the kind that one would think would take an hour to whizz through whilst on route to something more important.  However the intertwining of the history of the town set chronologically within the labyrinthine course through the building  captivates us every time we visit.   The chambers themselves become something of a metaphor for the ups and downs of the city in the thousands of years it records as we wend our way over and through their multiple levels and its many cultures.  It’s a simple collection, but far from scattered yet the custodians are well aware of its magnetism, allowing a return visit in the nominal cost of each entry.  

Our new favourite game involves looking statutes in the eye and trying to figure out what the subjects were thinking at the time their pose was captured.  Clearly in the above scene, her tongue lashing had gone on to the point where the silent treatment was about to begin, her icy stare a hint that all was not well within this relationship.  Perhaps we had interrupted his exasperation mid expletive?  It must have  been quite embarrassing for him really to have to hold that pose until we had disappeared into the next gallery.

We returned several times, but never caught them out.

Mind Boggling - Friday May 12th Metz

Sir Bannister Fletcher didn’t even mention the cathedral Saint-Étienne de Metz in his seminal text “The History of Architecture on the Comparative Method” perhaps the ultimate textbook of its kind for more than a century.  It’s a curious omission one would have thought if for no other reason that the forty something metres height of its nave, and remarkable six and half thousand square metres (yes that’s more than half a hectare) of stained glass, but then the one questioning Sir Bannister’s decision still has nightmares about his final year architectural history exams sat almost half a century ago and may therefore not be in a position to criticise.   

Perhaps it was because of this omission, (or perhaps because of the nightmares!) we studiously ignored the place during our first few dozen visits to the city, but we can ignore it no more.  Now each time we pass we poke around inside, to discover a little more, taking time to read the carved graffiti in the darkest of its corners, (surely in the eighteenth century that would have been a capital offence?), smug as we watch the people discovering it for the first time, wondering what they are going to do with their hundreds of photographs, without for a second wondering what we are going to do with the thousands we already have.  Yet the quest continues to find a souvenir more satisfying than the last. 

It’s not just the enormity of the thing, or the sheer impossibility of its structure, it’s trying to come to terms with it having been here for a thousand years, that all those years ago someone could conceive it and build it and preserve and protect it, to say nothing of the price that must have been paid over that thousand years in terms of currency and the community.    For all of that we can still walk around inside and marvel at it and scribble our names on the columns in black indelible ink…. apparently.

To Market to Market - Thursday May 11th Metz

To Market to Market - Thursday  May 11th Metz

While in Metz we tend to visit the covered markets daily for supplies or for a bowl of soup or sometimes just to pop in   We’ve taken photos of it from all angles, recording the fish and the cheese and the meats within and the clever graphics of its modern awning which seem to bring a certain levity and focus on what would otherwise be a somewhat anonymous building.

On cloudless days it’s anonymity disappears and it becomes the focus of the square with its moving feast of cheery graffiti in neat rows  projected on it’s ancient walls as the sun traverses the sky.

We didn’t pop in there today though, we were on another mission.  Amazingly it’s been eight years since we filled up the little hire car with all sorts of household equipment mostly sourced from a large Swedish furniture shop on the outskirts of town.  The pillows we bought at that time were no longer satisfactory apparently.  Even the least critical among us could see that they weren’t quite the same after last season’s washing and now featured enough lumps and bumps to keep a phrenologist gainfully employed for a lifetime. To be blunt they were mere shadows of their former selves, and not of the kind that will disappear when the sun goes down.

We would probably have slept just as well tonight had we not been on new pillows complete with slightly glossy new and unwrinkled cases and in that case we may have had time to take an intersting photo.  Tomorrow, we’ll go to the market and take this one.

Climate Change Day Pont-a-Mousson to Metz

What a treat it was to wake to a brightly shining sun and clear blue skies, even if the frost had barely melted on the deck of the boat when we did.  Exactly as forecast the temperature steadily rose, breaking double figures not long after breakfast reaching an almost take-the-jumper-off sixteen before we’d arrived in Metz.   Curiously the forecast from this day on is for minimum temperatures above ten, it’s as though they’ve just moved the maximums from the last few weeks into the next column over on the spreadsheet, and now suddenly we’re looking down the barrel of we won’t need jumpers again temperatures for the foreseeable future.

The crunch has come, on a quiet day aboard, without cold and rain there will be nothing to talk about and only boring postcards with clear blue skies taken lazily through the back door of the boat.

We are in Metz, one of our favourite cities, moored in our usual happy spot wedged betwixt park and cathedral wondering what it was that was different about the crowds in the park and in the city as we wandered round. It took a few minutes to realise that there were bare arms and legs on display, queues at the ice-cream stalls, cafe customers sipping beverages with actual ice in them.  All perfectly normal things to do when the temperature soars close to twenty.

Dancing with elephants - Champignuelles to Pont-a-Mousson

We lowered ourselves gently onto the Moselle quite early this morning for they among us who consider nine to be early, and shifted the throttle to “ramming speed”, flying downstream at times reaching almost nine kilometres per hour with not a care in the world but a steady eye out in case one appeared around the corner headed in our direction.   It’s easy to overstate the danger of travelling on a small river in company with large ships but they do give cause for the occasional flutter of the heart, appearing as they do, silently as if from nowhere and travelling at almost twice our speed. Likewise when they come across us waddling out of their way like an old duck would, we expect that they feel as we do when we come across a flotilla of kayaking schoolchildren.

Like jet fighters they are in their stealth if not their bulk. With engine rooms located as much as a hundred and forty metres behind their pointy ends, they can easily be gone before they are heard. Of course they are piloted by highly skilled individuals who no doubt live in fear of the sort of mountain of paperwork that would result from a collision with a small boat, and there is great heart to be taken in that and accidents at least while moving are extremely rare.    

Charles Dickens it was who summed up the situation nicely, although until I enquired I always thought it was a songwriter from The Who or The Animals sometime in the sixties:

'" 'Every man for himself', cried the elephant as he danced among the chickens."

A long walk - Monday May 8th Nancy to Champignuelles

After nearly eight kilometres of exertion today, all on the part of Mr Perkins, we arrived sometime after lunch at Champignuelles, a small abandoned harbour next to a nice bakery (open every day, closed tomorrow, thanks for coming though) a nice bank, and less than a kilometre’s walk from a large hardware emporium.  We would normally have moored the boat right next to the hardware store, but having been a little short on exercise for a day or two decided that a couple of round trips on foot were what the doctor may order if we were to continue with our new found sedentary life.

An ever so slight amount of guilt derived from eating our strawberry tart (the baker is closed tomorrow, not today) while watching hundreds or actually thousands of walkers pass by in various states of disarray may have contributed to this.   Today was the thirty-third annual Metz to Nancy walk. If that sounds like more fun than eating strawberry tart in a warm boat, let’s just say the temperature outside briefly made ten degrees and that was when the wind and rain stopped for an even more brief time, and the total distance is around sixty kilometres or about three days by boat.

We may not have even made it thus far had we not been kicked out into the cold while lingering over a coffee with a few friends including the duty Port Captain in his comfortably heated office, when he suddenly stood and said, “I’m sorry we have to go quickly now!  It’s lunchtime and if I don’t lock the office very soon the alarms will go off!”

Rather than risk a visit from the Police for forcing our friend to work during lunch, we quietly slipped out of town.

Even less is more -Sunday May 7th Nancy

If yesterday was a catch up day, today turned out to be one where we had the opportunity to get ahead of things, but why would we?  If the rain stopped at all today it wasn’t when we were watching and we couldn’t have cared less, we had books and a heater and chocolate.

OK we had books and a heater and peanut M&M’s but there was no way we were going to leave the boat even for chocolate.  So for the first time that either of us can remember, which admittedly isn’t a terribly long time we didn’t set a foot on land all day.

We did get a start on all sorts of projects, none of them practical or meaningful which makes them even more valuable and important somehow and we did find a photo of a cactus smiling to itself in a little sunshine  just three days ago, which reminded us of just how dry things have been till now.   

Besides a little rain can be quite uplifting when one is living in a boat with no leaking windows

Opening exceptionally -Saturday May 6th Nancy

I recall yesterday thinking that we might move on tomorrow, visit the hardware store on our way out, that sort of thing.

This morning we thought the same thing, even told the Harbour Master that we’d be off and thanks for having us once again.  Then we went to the supermarket to provision ourselves for the next arduous leg of our journey which might take us away from shops for perhaps a night,  and we noticed a sign on the door.  “We will be opening exceptionally on Monday from nine till four”.    This is the opposite of “closing exceptionally”, a sign which we are quite used to seeing on days when we arrive and really need something from whatever store it is displaying said sign.

What it also infers is that other stores, for instance large hardware ones, will not be opening exceptionally on Monday, which as it turns out is a public holiday in a month in which there are four.   With that knowledge safely tucked away, we won’t be leaving tomorrow, perhaps the next day will be better, and in the meantime we’ll just sit around here today and catch up with a bit of writing.

Ready for the growing season - Friday May 5th Nancy

We’ve been lying around doing not much for a while, a bit like the beds in the little botanic garden up the road.  But like those gardens which are all planted in readiness for the coming summer, we too are ready to get a move on.   

We’ve got ourselves sorted at last. It’s amazing what a week of lazing around can do to in that regard, a few minutes of work here and there and we’re ready to go for summer. Admittedly there are a couple of “home improvements” to be done, but we’ll sort those out when we pass the hardware store on Monday.  Yes, we’ve made a decision, we will move on. We will be on our way once more.

Life isn’t about lying around inactive all day though, we did take a longish walk around the larger park as well.  We lingered for a while as we passed through the little zoological gardens, watching the monkeys for a bit which for reasons completely inexplicable reminded us that we really might like to make a video call with the grandkids tomorrow.

Perambulations Thursday May 4th Nancy

I cannot say for sure why today’s photograph should be of an antique baby carriage, standing lonely in the middle of a street.   Even to say “we discovered it” would not be correct as it had obviously been discovered long ago and was being used as a wordless billboard for an antique shop.   It is a sad reflection on our powers of observation though, that so attracted were we by the glittering bits of marquetry, and the curly ironwork, we had failed to notice that one of the wheels was somewhat less than intact, going a fair way towards answering our own question about how it remains in place without a lock in the face of such obvious temptation.

Speaking of temptation, we were actually wandering with some intent in the general direction of the covered market in search of cheese.  Some Comté or Morbier would do the trick, or with just a little luck, a little of both.  Naturally, this being France, luck of the cheesy kind was not hard to find.  Therefore laden with sufficient supplies to keep the wolves at bay for a considerably greater time than perhaps we had initially contemplated, we returned happily to our rapidly diminishing list of things to do in the warmth of indoors.

Beaux Arts - Wednesday May 3rd Nancy

We’d always had the Museum of “Beautiful Arts” in Nancy on our list of things to do on a rainy day.  Even today a visit wasn’t being seriously contemplated until we found ourselves at the top of town when the precipitation began and foolishly we were without umbrellas.  Suddenly a visit became a sensible way of whiling a way a few hours.

We had barely begun whiling when Jean Prouvé solved a problem I’ve been grappling with for some time regarding keeping the top of a dining table apart from the floor, and we recouped the minuscule cost of entrance with interest.   With nothing to lose from then on, things just kept getting better.  Yayoi Kusama’s infinity room, a version of which we had visited in her astonishing exhibition in Japan gave us a lovely sense of deja vu, as did a painting called “The poor fisherman” which had creepily re-materialised in front of our eyes as if not wanting an end to our discussion regarding its wretchedness, begun in front of it  two weeks ago in Tokyo.  Curious as to how it could possibly be following us, we discovered this one to be an exact copy of Puvis’ original by an equally renowned chap by the name of Maillol.

One could go on, and its suffice to say we did, through all three levels and back again too which given our usual lack of attention span in these places is no small recommendation. Eventually though, even the rain couldn’t keep us inside.    This is Nancy after all where the beautiful arts can be found everywhere, even on the wall of the chemist shop just up the road from the museum. 

Time for a different perspective - May 2nd Nancy

We’ve been on the run for a few months now, and it’s become something of a habit, this running madly barely stopping for a breath.  It’s time to take stock of ourselves, understand that we are supposed to be “retired”, and that we will not suffer any penalty if we don’t actually do anything for a day or two.

Of course it may be a little difficult to write about it at day’s end.  How does one describe with a sufficiency of eloquence taking one’s breakfast while still clad in night attire at a time when others less relaxed may well have been contemplating their elevenses?

It was raining, the boat was tidy and we went for a long walk in the afternoon.

Labour Day - May 1st Nancy

Today is Labour Day which over several centuries has become intertwined with “La Fete du Maguet”, a day on which one gives those one loves a little bouquet of Lily-of-the-Valley (Muguet), to wish them happiness and good luck in celebration of the arrival of spring.  King Charles IX started it all in the sixteenth century and declared that on this day anyone in France can legally sell flowers without a license.

In honour of this great public holiday we invoked our “rule of ten” this morning, not rising, as is our custom until either the time or the temperature reached that convenient number.  As it happened in the absence of artificial heat, the clock ticked over to match the thermometer at exactly the same time this morning and we rose refreshed and ready to face our still lengthy list of after-winter things to tidy up.  We thought given the weather, that before we did that perhaps a stroll between the showers to see what was happening in this holiday stricken city would be nice.  

As we walked through the wonderful square, almost deserted but for a handful of people selling small posies of flowers, one of them enquired as to whether we’d like one.   

“No thanks” was our automatic response.  “They’re free!” he replied “and they are from the forest”.   Naturally we enquired why he was not selling them.

“Normally I sell them” he said, “but I am happy and I like to make everyone happy.  It’s a happy day, we don’t have to work!”  

So we didn’t.

Changing the plan. - April 30 Einville-au-Jard to Nancy

The house next to the bakery in Einville sent a signal this morning, perhaps it’s time to revisit the art nouveau museum in Nancy, perhaps it’s time to stay for a bit and poke around, but that part of our plan never varies, we just never seem to carry through.   

We have no need for rush we say at the beginning of every voyage.  “We are going to stay for two nights every time we stop this year” we say.  “We will visit the places we’ve been before, but explore every nook and cranny, we’ll leave no stone unturned” we say, and then circumstances conspire and we inevitably end up leaving lots leaving nooks and crannies “for next time”.

This year we thought we would travel in a gentle circle down the Saar, up the Moselle and back, but no sooner had we begun annunciating that thought than our plans began to unravel.  The coming Monday holiday didn’t help, neither did the prospect of spending a couple of cold rainy nights away from power, but the delay in re-opening the lock at Saarbrücken foiled us entirely and we set out in exactly the opposite direction to the one we expected.   Today, while loitering on our way to the bakery in Einville-au-Jard early, before shooting off to Nancy, we made a mental note of things we’ll definitely do on the way back.

We will walk the new history trail in Einville, we will visit the Brewing and Cinema museums at St-Nicholas-du-Port and we will definitely take four or five days to travel the distance that usually takes us one or two, and we will linger everywhere for more than a night.   

Starting tomorrow.

Aweigh! - April 29 Lagarde to Einville-au-Jard

If ever one were in need of proof of the benefits of procrastination, today would have given that proof in buckets.

It was buckets of soap and warm water that were needed mostly, along with a scrubbing brush and a pressure cleaner.  While the temperature may not have quite made double figures, the glorious blue sky and brilliant sunshine made it seem like three times that once work got underway.   There were lots of things that could have been done, perhaps should have been done, but as the morning slowly turned into afternoon, our little “Joyeux” was starting to look a bit like his old self, and with that the urge to get underway started to take a fairly strong grasp on us all.

Some quick sums were done.   It seems we have two days of sunshine ahead of us, which is about half a day more than it will take us to get to Nancy, but exactly the same time remaining until the May Day holiday when everything closes.   After that there will be a few days of much needed rain, together with a not so much needed cooler change, during which time a small electric heater could be a comfort, which in turn would make an electrical supply quite useful.

After pressing the “equals” key, the answer came firm but clear - stop work, take the shiny clean boat to Nancy, leave straight after lunch.  So we did.