It baffles me why anyone goes to hotels - well, I suppose because they're rich. Second chambre d'hôtes that has provided a meal, with vino, for 12 euros. Not just fodder, but a bloody good scoff. On top of that, very pleasant company and the opportunity to improve one's French. Oh, and a pool. And Madame lent me a maillot. So, if you're ever at Berthenay, near Tours, Les Près Baynard is not to be missed.
Night all.
I spent spent bloody ages writing this post then went to find some photos and it all disappeared. Bloody computers.
I was ranting about the fact that, although I have done 580 km, I still only seem to be 230 miles from Roscoff. But I can't be arsed to go into all that again. I am at a b&b just outside Tours, it's hot and there is a very nice pool. I am eating here en famille tonight.
I'll post the photos that would not post yesterday as the Internet seems a bit better here. Update : still won't poat photos. Blogger is crap.
Gary asked why I'm doing this. I honestly haven't a clue. Because I can? It is mostly enjoyable and it gives you a lot of time to think about stuff, which I enjoy. Ultimately, everything is pointless, so I suppose this is no more so than most of human endeavour.
A strange and feverish night. I dreamed I went flying with the Duke of Edinburgh. Seemed a nice old chap, though I admit a dream is hardly a reliable character witness.
Sunny, cooler. Today I actually head properly east along the Loire. I am slightly concerned as I have numbness in my left hand, probably a trapped ulnar nerve. I can ride one-handed for a bit, but probably not to Munich.
Thanks for comment, Geoffrey, good to hear from people. I prefer to look on the loss of the jacket as a sign it's not going to rain any more.
A tout à l'heure.
I have discovered I can get an iffy broadband signal sitting on the loo.
Having a really relaxing day, listening to Clare in the community.
I decided to save some money by buying fruit and nuts and a bottle of local cider and not eating out. Unfortunately, I have eaten everything and am still hungry. Picture of chambre d'hôtes attached.
This might not be the usual high standard of prose that you have come to expect. You see, I've got a bit of a problem. Despite burning around 4000 calories a day over and above what you need to stay alive, I have no appetite whatsoever. Fortunately, my enjoyment of alcohol remains unaffected, anyway, you can guess the rest...
No Internet for two days - actually very liberating. My friend John (richest man in the world™) said you can get Internet access absolutely everywhere these days, but so far, I've managed approximately nowhere, so yet again I'm using my very expensive dongly thing.
I think we last met in rainy Brittany. On the second day's cycling, I met my friend Alain Loinsard. He is, basically, bonkers. A lean, fit cycling machine. He thinks the correct speed to cycle is 30 kph. Well, I don't. He nearly killed me, and it was only through showing great strength of character, ie going very slowly, that I survived at all. Lovely chap with a gorgeous house near St Malo, and a very good attitude to the state of the planet. His only fault, and it's a big one, he doesn't drink.
However, the next day, i finally made it to Fougeré (look it up) and spent a lovely evening with Joyce who runs a veggie B and B, is a stunning cook, and who I knew straight away was my sort of person when she offered me a beer on arrival. A lovely evening, I wanted to stay an extra night, but she was booked, and I'm not surprised.
Today, I staggered onwards in sultry conditions and made it to Saumur. Roy/Philip, remember Saumur? Anyway, I popped into the very helpful tourist information and they found me a top-hole b & b in Montreuil-Bellay, where I have effectively a suite for not much money.
Tomorrow, day off. I'm slightly concerned because I'm losing feeling in my left hand, so hoping a rest will sort that out, anyway, I'm old and knackered.
A pleasant evening at a cheap-ish restaurant playing 'spot the dick-head'. In the past, you could almost guarantee they would be English, but the French are now catching up. I suppose that's globalisation for you.
Oh, lost my jacket today, it fell off the carrier. A very nice lady stopped me and I went back, only to see an arse pick it up. I shouted at him, but he gave me the international sign for peace, at least, I think that's what it was, and drove off. I did get his number, but thought 'do I really want to spend the rest of the day in a police station' so left it at that. I didn't really like it anyway, it clashed. I did put a curse on him, though, so that's him buggered.
Anyway, that's the news from Lake Woebegone, Philip, thank you for commenting and I wish you were here.
I wrote a huge amount and the network died. I'm too knackered to write it again. Let's just say it rained. A lot. And I went too far.
Bit later: had a good stodge-out so feeling better. The local cider is pretty goof, too.
The crossing yesterday was appalling, I think the worst I've known. Couldn't sleep because I was almost thrown out of bed every couple of minutes, puke everywhere. Not me, fortunately.
Today was disappointing, the scenery was lovely, but the constant rain and high wind spoilt everything.
It should have been 109 km, but Mio's little vagaries turned it into over 120, too far for this geriatric.
B&B - L'abri des îles, in Paimpol, is excellent and Nathalie charming and helpful. Paimpol is pleasant, though understandably touristy.
Apparently tomorrow will be better.
Night, all.
