We are in the beginning of that particularly beautiful part of the Meuse now, where it meanders with intent and the hills crash seemingly vertically into the river. The buildings are an eclectic mix of stone and brick with some plastered and painted to provide perhaps not an accidental harmony.
It was deathly quiet in Monthermé when we arrived. There was not a sign of life, yet occasionally the entire village seemed to heave with a gasp or a roar that seemed to be rumbling from the very core of the mountains beyond. The World Cup quarter final was being played and the inhabitants were clearly invisibly connected behind their shutters, creating something akin to a giant public address system.
As we walked through the deserted streets we were bemused when we noticed the only sign of life, a small group of children playing football, disappeared as we approached. Then we realised that half-time had ended and they were racing back indoors to glue themselves to the broadcast. Eventually it finished and the mayhem began. Cars by the score bedecked with flags with sirens and klaxons blaring took to the streets in a never ending procession, people in funny wigs began dancing and waving flags in a riot of celebration that lasted for much longer than we would have thought a mere quarterfinal deserved.
We can only wonder what might happen in the event of a final victory.
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