Legends from our own lunchtimes

Friday, September 09, 2022

The perils of travel.
Sunday 3rd September - Diksmuide

Diksmuide is one of those towns in Europe that has a fine, some might say grand central square flanked by ancient buildings and lined with coffee shops and restaurants.   

One of the ancient buildings, houses a carillon tower with no fewer than thirty bells and the restaurant just below that is where we chose to take our morning coffee, there being no facilities at present aboard while work is still underway.  We now know that several times on a Sunday morning the bell ringers display their abundant skills with great gusto for thirty minutes without ceasing.

It was Father’s Day in Australia today, and there’s a particular time in the evening on that side of the world which is after bath-time but before tea time when families wanting to wish their Father or Grandfather “all the best for the day” can do so at a more or less convenient time for him too.  Sadly that time coincided today exactly with every one of those thirty bell commencing their deafening chorus.  

It became apparent from the entirely quizzical looks on the other end of the video call, that conversation of any kind was out of the question, so we blew each other kisses, warnings were sent to the rest of our progeny, and Father’s Day greetings just kind of fizzled out to wait for some future time.  

All was not entirely lost though as the five hours required between coats of varnish allowed just enough time for a splendid lunch!


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