Nick
followed me out at 8.30am timed to arrive at the first lock of the day at 9
sharp. We duly arrived to find a waiting French owned boat already waiting at
the entrance. Sods law, I think they say! With Nick having a biggun, 13m, it
was a two boat only lock so he had a frustrating wait. We had decided to
overnight at Digoine whilst they were travelling on with another chums
rendezvous to get too. The Frenchmen asked me to overtake him which I duly did
on this again delightful cruise. Lock keepers were all very helpful with our lines.
As we approached Digoine, I spied a sign for Direct from the farm sales. The
queue was 6 deep as we came alongside. I suggested I drop Collette and would
wait midstream whilst she got vittles.
5 minutes later the French passed, 15
minutes later with just two people having left the small shop, I pulled into
the bank and switched the engines off. 10 more minutes passed and Avalon
drifted past thinking we had broken down. Collette finally emerged and
returning, I indicated that I hoped it had been worthwhile. She purchased a
yellow courgette, a lettuce, a slice of pate, a goats cheese, 2 very thick
fillet steaks, 4 merguez and a joint of
pork. 4 people had been in front of her in the queue and it had taken 35
minutes and 26 euros. Only in France!
We followed
Avalon into the Digoine lock which precedes the hugely impressive aqauduct over
the River Loire.
The bridge is high and the canal is very narrow. The wind was
straight on the beam and with no speed at all, keeping Doucette straight was
proving very difficult. A strong gust and her stbd stern took a loud thud. The
fender had ridden up onto the top of the wooden wall and I had a nasty scraze
to repair. Despite my slight indignation at this occurrence, it could not
detract from the thrill of this passage over the river. We were the subject of
many tourists photo`s as we inched across and we did manage to take a couple of snaps of our view from the aqauduct.
We
waved abientots to Nick and Pam and came alongside outside the capitinnaires
office. Water and electric on. Time for food and I suggested the just purchased
merguez hotdogs. I set off to town for the bread whilst the
crew fried the onions. Lunch was superb and I had discovered that Digoine had
broken with tradition and the Fetes de la Musique was being celebrated tonight.
The merguez were easily the best sausages of the trip which boded well for
tonights steak.
The
afternoon saw Collette doing her washer women impression and me making a table
extension for the poop to enable more room for 4 round the table to eat.
Highlight was my biggest FW moment of this years trip. Having completed my
task, I needed to fit the brackets for the 3 legs I had purchased at the Vide
Grenier in Vermenton eons ago. I borrowed a ships dinner plate and marked the
table top and proceeded to drill the 9 pilot holes required. Keen to see the
table erected, I affixed the brackets and with the last screw tightened, picked
the top up to fit the legs. I fell to my knees incredulous. I beat the
unflinching grass floor with my fists. The crew aware of my total
disintegration came rushing to enquire what was wrong. I had fitted the
brackets to the table top, not the underneath!
I am in
desperate need of help and will get to a doctors as soon as I return to
blighty. The crew also needs medical help having unashamedly split her sides in
the aftermath of my mortification.
A
trooper gets straight back on so the repair was effectted with gusto before a
trip to the Brico on the wheels of steel saw me purchase the last of the shower
room trim. I decided to pop into Leclercs on the return trip and not wishing to
leave my 2.5 m trims with the velo, I set about causing havoc in one of those
volumous revolving doors which take a ridiculous amount of time to get you in
and during which time you are subject to any bad odour your fellow shoppers
care to brighten your passage with. Unfortunately my trims only fitted on an
angle so I accounted for two spiked toes and almost took an eye out. I was left
last to get out as they affected their escape from the flailing English idiot
and unfortunately for me, the back of the trim caught in the doors as they
revolved shut. A hefty wrench as I got
seriously annoyed with these bloody doors in a falty towers moment, freed it from
certain destruction. I entered
the store shaking myself off having shown that door who was boss and
recomposing myself in front of the all to knowing head shaking onlookers. Of
course Leclerc did not have the box of rose I had gone in for as a treat for
the crew who had rather liked it on Avalon. They did however had filleted
sardines on offer at 8euros a kilo. I took eight fully expecting to lose a
couple overboard for a marvellous 2euros 40. Bargain. Picked up a bottle of
milky rum stuff for the crew and then I faced the ordeal of the young checkout
girl who wanted to charge me for my brico purchased trim despite the fact that
leclercs do not sell timber. I just cannot even go there.
Back at
headquarters, we had drinks on the poop before I lit the magma and prepared the
magnificent looking pair of steaks.
Being of a frugal nature, I had wilted a tad at the 12 euros price tag,
but by god they were impressive.
This though is no guarantee. Too often, we
have been excited at this stage only to find the cooked steaks tough and chewy
despite being prepared to rare medium. So, with the salad prepared they got 4
minutes each side.
Butter
butter butter melting in mouth. My lips salivate even in this later writing.
They were fabulous. At last we were not disappointed by French steak. I just
wish the crew had purchased more but that went down like a lead balloon when
proffered. They were that big, the salad was unmolested. Now aint that a thing
chaps!
As the
digestive juices set to work lubricated with some more grand ordinaire, the
flow of people towards that characteristic thumping echo of live outdoor music increased. At 10pm, we joined them. The main
street had been pedestrianised and many cafes had stages set up. Some just
yards apart where two very different entertainments competed for the same
audience. The losing act turning to volume overload in a last vain attempt to
entice the watching crowd to watch them.
It was
a great atmosphere and there were some very good aswell as some very terrible
bands. I was devastated to just miss the American line dancing act in the
church square but was compensated by the array of scantily clad young French
fillies performing belly gyrating routines in front of a male dominated
audience whilst a shifty looking bloke was running around the stage taking
pictures and video. I did express my misgivings over this behaviour and on a rare
occasion, the crew concurred. Over a glass of wine in the bar supporting this
event we agreed that he did seem a little too sweaty and keen and looked like a
dodgy 70`s porn filmmaker, but perhaps I am being a tad ungenerous in my
observations.
A very
young band featured a particularly good lead guitarist who we enjoyed
immensely. The drummer looked a little incongruess being at least 25years older
than the rest of the rockers.
Back at
our first stop having toured the whole town over the last hour and a half, I wanted to finish with a red wine nightcap
and listen to my favourite band of the night playing some more reggae. We sat
for 30minutes waiting for them to start whilst a carpenters inspired young
couple tirelessly droned out turgid time for a noose numbers. We gave up at
midnight and headed back to Doucette and a good nights sleep. As my head hit
the pillow I heard a distant recognisable riff and then the words “lets get
together and feel alright”. I turned to the wife.
She was asleep already.
Oh well
It had been a mighty marvellous meaty day.
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