The Journey -
MORE Washday blues on Rosy

On Sunday 25th May we were still at the mooring at Gannay.  In the evening, several other crowded hire boats arrived.  I exercised Fanny with the flying Aerobie.  We entertained quite a crowd - claps and cheers when she caught it in mid air, gasps of admiration when a strange "Here, boy" was ignored and she came straight to me (the gasps came from me!!).  Fanny LOVED it, and developed an extra little swagger when she laid the aerobie at my feet.

I woke on the Monday with a VERY sore knee.  It had swelled up, and I'd lost all articulation.  The actual grazes and cuts were clean and healing, and as I was pretty sure nothing was cracked, broken or out of place, I carried on.  Luckily it was only a short journey up to Roy and Audrey at The Lighthouse.  I spent most of the rest of the day resting the knee.  Roy and Audrey had some of their adult children staying, and I went over for drinks in the evening.  Roy and Audrey were pretty pushy about seeing a doctor, but I was convinced that there is nothing a doctor can do, other than say "Keep it clean, dress it twice daily, and rest it as much as possible" - which is what I was doing!!

On Tuesday the knee swelling subsided, but the rest treatment continued.

On the Wednesday I cycled to nearby Beaulon (with Fanny running alongside) for bread, and to re-stock with Melolin (a non-absorbent dressing) which they had to order, but won't be in until Friday.  Cycled back to The Lighthouse, and then down to the WONDERFUL nearby Proxi-Maxi - a supermarket-cum-hardware store that caters for a farming community.  Hence things bought there tend to be non-glitzy but with oodles of low cost functionality.  They even sell proper wooden clogs.  I also did a massive 15-book swap at The Lighthouse, which is what Roy and Audrey are famous for.  They also offer tiny-boat boaters a proper sized bed for the night, and generally make themselves available to help people.

Thursday was Ascension Day.  People in UK miss this, but in France we all know about it, 'cos the shops are all shut.  Rosy was in need of having her voles rejuvenated, so we left The Lighthouse and pottered up to the mooring at Beaulon, where, behind the water point, there are some little known electric sockets that can get most voles back up to speed.  Spent the evening with Dick Allen on the nb Longfellow - he's recently had some "Boating in France" articles published in the waterway magazines.  With the higher revs in general use over here, his engine was overheating.  He's installed a cunning little box supplied by Bowman, that is plumbed into the pipe leading from the base of his skin cooling tank to the engine.  The box is cooled by raw water pumped up (and returned to) the canal.  He's very pleased with it - it reduces his engine temperature by 20 degrees.

Friday was a quick trip into Beaulon for the Melolin, and then a cruise along to a quay at Pierrefitte - adjacent to a lovely lake, so Fanny had a good run around.

Saturday has been a long, hot, muggy day.  The scenery has been good - up till now, the banks have been largely tree-lined, but suddenly they stopped, and lovely vistas opened up across the river Loire, to the chateaux and villages on the hills beyond.

Digoin is a total PAIN.  There is a deep lock just before the pretty aqueduct to take one up to the town level.  A trip boat goes up and down it several times a day.  Hourly hire boats go up and down it many times a day.  Each use of the lock takes water out of the town level pound, which, consequently, is low, making mooring not very easy - except at the Port de Plaisance  - with charges 8 or 10 Euro.  I'm OK about paying that if I need to take on water and/or electricity, but all I need at night is somewhere to tie up!!

So I moored elsewhere, and went to find a laundrette, hence went to find the Tourist Information Office - the signs to it taking me in a 270 degree circle.  The AYL (Attractive Young Lady - tourist information services specialise in these) told me that Digoin doesn't have a laundrette.  I put on my look of utter disbelief.  Then I sniffed at her, and pointed out that her clothes were obviously recently (and beautifully) laundered, and how did she manage this if Digoin had a distinct deficiency in the launderette department.  She said that she had her own machine at home.

I then suggested that maybe she could provide me with a schedule over the next 24 hours when she would be at home and when any significant others in her life wouldn't, so that I could trot round to her in order to get my dhobie dhobied.  Furthermore, off the top of my head I could think of one or two interesting things that we could do whilst the dhobie was dhobi-ing.

This previous paragraph is, needless to say, a figment of my overactive imaginwotnot.

As I left the AYL said that she thought that there was a laundrette at Paray le Monial.

"Come, Fanny", I said to the faithful hound.  "We will take ourselves to Paray le Monial."

"Take yourself", she volunteered.  "I'm off for a gonk!'" And she did.  She slept all the way from Digion to Paray le Monial - except for the 30-second appearance at the second lock for lavatorial purposes.

She missed the moment when we passed under a road bridge, on which was stopped a car that was waiting to cross a railway level crossing on the railway that runs along beside the canal.  The train went by just as we went under the bridge.  Road, rail and canal ... all together for one brief moment.  There's industrial history for you!!

Paray le Monial was an important religious centre in the middle ages.  Its church/basilica was based on that at Cluny - Cluny being one of the most important abbeys in France.  In more recent years (19th Century, I think) Marguerite-Marie Alacoque (now a Saint) developed a devotion to The Sacred Heart of Jesus, to the extent that Paray le Monial became a centre for pilgrimages which continues in the present day.

I have to report that all the citizens of Paray le Monial that I spoke to were pretty much convinced that their town has a laundrette "somewhere" but no-one knew where.  Hence I'm getting a bit pongy.

Anyway, the trip from Pierrefitte to Paray le Monial has been quite long, and has given rise to the following ...

The air has been full of dragonflies - or something similar.  A bit small for a dragonfly perhaps - but a long thin body, and two pairs of wings up forward.  Males are sky blue, females are greeny.  What with Rosy needing steering etc., looking at things has be done in a series of short takes, so I might be wrong, but it seems that they bonk in mid air.  Flying along comes a pair - he above, she below.  His tail is bent down, and seems to be embedded in her head parts.  There they are, flying along, and he gets a blow job!!  I saw this, and thought words to the effect, "By heck!!  A flying blow-job!!  I bet they get buzz out of that!!"

It must, I think, have taken a very specialised, focussed air-force brain (?) to see the same sight, some 30 years ago, and think, "By Heck!!  In flight refuelling".  It hardly inspires one to be an inventor.

Finally, we went by a fisherman.  It was a sunny day, and Mr Fisherman had been sunning himself.  He stood up and walked around a bit as we approached.  30ish, and once quite fit and muscular.  He had a big solid, chest, and his arms were big, but fleshy rather than muscular.  He hadn't got a BIG gut, but his waist was totally missing - it was just a downward extension of his chest.  The other thing that was missing was his bottom - he just didn't have one.  He had on some swimming trunks - one could hardly say that he was wearing them!  His legs seemed to start at his waist, and disappeared off down to his ankles, like a pair of long, thin, inverted cones, with just his knee caps spoiling the purity of the line.

His rather floppy swimming trunks were held up by bodge/duck/masking/jungle tape (depending on your ethnicity and/or cultural heritage).

I think that that is more than enough for today.

Toodle pip!!

Bill