Gros Jonc

We awoke to steady rain, an empty wine bottle sat half an inch deep in water in the middle of the table on the deck. We’d anticipated it though and felt that we were probably due a morning sitting round drinking coffee and catching up on our Nordic-tinged holiday reading. In fact we even turned the day around a bit and ordered in pizza for lunch so that we could take our picnic stuff along to the beach in the evening when the weather had perked up a bit. In between, we took our waterproofs and got in a brief afternoon cycle – briefer for some of us than others as Katie and I didn’t realise that Beck had been teasing about going all the way to Ars and pressed on regardless unaware that her and Tom had turned back. Only another 9km each way, wondering why they never thought to stop even once and wait for us to catch up. Meanwhile, Tom and Beck were sat, ice cream-less, outside the cabin, since we’d got the keys and all the cash. When we’d finally re-united – and fortified ourselves with coffee and pear tart – we all took that evening stroll, Tom and I even getting as far as the concrete gun emplacement Beck and I had found on Sunday to get some photos…