Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, May 24, 2018

On Romance. 23 May 2018

One of the most frequent questions we are asked about our roving life on the water is the one about how we go about getting our provisions.  The question is most often followed immediately by the questioner making a statement explaining that they suppose we stop each day in a village, pop up to the market for vegetables still smelling of the rich earth from which they had sprung and fresh bread steaming hot from an old lady who bakes it in a wood fired oven, and perhaps wine from a guy with grape skins still stuck to his ankles from last evening’s treading.  

Not wanting to burst any delusional bubbles we usually agree that that is indeed how we provision our little craft, and in reality when the opportunity presents itself, from time to time we do take great  pleasure in doing so.   

The harsh reality though is that not every village has a market, and not every market vendor supplies the finer necessities of life, like garbage bags or haemorrhoid cream, and when we are visiting a village that might, invariably we arrive the day after market day.  Therefore, when any opportunity presents, the best kind of market is the “super” kind, particularly when we have access to a vehicle to carry bulk stores.  Some may be disappointed that this particular exposé of the seamier side of our lives falls short of their romantic vision for us.  To them we say "do not fret on our behalves."  

In the spirit of keeping up with the times, just think of it as “New Romantic”.


Don said...

Ah, what wonders can be had in the "center aisle."


bitingmidge said...

@D&C-J)😁 I've wasted a lot of my life in the centre aisle!

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