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.
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