Mittersheim is a quiet little village where nothing ever happens, yet the town has provided a lovely marina structure and promenade right at the edge of a beautifully maintained park, so we always feel it would be rude if we didn’t avail ourselves of the facility.
When we arrived yesterday afternoon, there were few boats to keep us company and there was someone hanging safety tape along the water’s edge. That perhaps should have given us a clue.
We really couldn’t say what time the sound of vehicles being unloaded began this morning, but it’s suffice to say that it was long before the time we would even consider leaving the warmth of our bed to find out. By nine, even with the morning fog showing no sign of lifting, the flea market was well underway albeit with a lesser crowd than we were accustomed to at events such as this. We needn't have worried.
The sun did come out eventually, bringing with it the Sunday hordes both pre and post-luncheon and despite being moored in the absolute thick of it, we did manage to get our washing up to date without anyone knocking on the side window and making an offer for our undies as a job lot.
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