We might have even gone out to lunch today. We were in that sort of mood and if it hadn't been for the Sunday closure of everything that resembled "out" we probably would have. Maybe.
Instead we remained gently reclined, variously reading or watching an internet broadcast as the Tour de France rolled through the countryside, each day covering more distance than we would consider civilised to traverse in a month.
Someone ought to tell them I thought, that they should take time to smell the flowers, that there are other ways of travelling through France. Ways that allow time for lunch under a shady tree, that don't involve a sprint to the death up a steep hill at the end of the day.
I even thought for a brief moment in time that it would be me that would tell them. I would email someone immediately I thought, and give them the drum.
Then I thought about how little I'd like to have another two hundred boats ahead of me waiting for a lock, rolled over and slept off all my day's thinking.
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