Not so the tour boats that grace the canals. They are boats. On the water. Of course they are the coolest place in town. (NOT). So hordes of hatless or near topless people still fill them for the thirty minute tour and all we can think of as they go happily by is how those burnt shoulders will feel against sweat dampened sheets when the reality of the overnight minimum temperature sinks in.
That forecast also resulted in a surprise change of plan for us, not that we had much of a plan beyond breakfast. It offered just the merest hint of an opportunity to once again cross the Westerschelde, tomorrow, all being well. All it would take would be one mighty dash; sixty kilometres at eight kilometres an hour, the equivalent of sixteen consecutive open boat tours of Bruges but in an enclosed, space devoid of breeze bar our lonely little fan which has spent most of the last week chattering to itself in a somewhat fruitless attempt to provide us with some relief, and we would be in that part of the Netherlands where we thought we’d be in a few weeks’ time.
If you read the title above, you will have already deduced that we rolled the dice, and with cooling scarves deployed and litres of water consumed during the course of the day, found ourselves in the evening in the Netherlands once again, in Sas van Gent to be precise, loitering in arctic chill of the supermarkets’ interiors under the guise of “picking up a few things for the voyage” as though there are no supermarkets in the rest of the Netherlands.
We are a little numb, more than a little hot and bothered, and wondering if tomorrow will turn out the way we hope it might.
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We are deeply sorry we didn’t know you were in Sas. We would have loved to come and say hello, if only briefly. Maybe you’ll come back this way?
Oh Val, we are horrified - I was sure you were in France. Hopefully we'ill be coming back through Gent and perhaps Sas in mid August so will check before then!
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