Day's progress: 24kms 12 locks
It rained and I mean seriously rained all day. I had brought along some flimsy rain macs that were like giant plastic bags with armholes and hoods – and Spur steak house logo on the front. These macs came folded up in a small zipp lock bag not much bigger than a small bank bag. I thought they would be ideal – firstly because I was expecting showers and secondly that I could just throw them away after the trip. Not for one minute did we expect the downpour we had that day or the previous day. Steve had decent rain gear but Bill and I used the plastic bag macs, pulled on over our warm clothes – 2 T shirts and jackets – it was freezing and very wet. We took shelter whenever we could – only venturing upstairs to take Steve hot tea or to work the locks. The ropes were wet and heavy and it took a bit of effort to throw them to the person waiting on the side. Bill scrambled up the lock ladders – which were wet and slimy and covered in all sorts of goo. I was glad it wasn’t me doing that task – but I threw the ropes to him – usually successfully the first time. Not only were the ropes wet, the also got covered with sand and small stones - Bill had a spectacular pair of bright blue thick rubber kitchen gloves and this ensemble together with our funny plastic bags brought smiles and startled looks from a lot of other boaters that day. We really looked very funny, street people on a boat wrapped in clear plastic bags! We looked as though we had been badly cling wrapped, our bare legs sticking out the bottom; Bill with his bright blue hands looked incredibly odd! Bill didn’t only look funny he is funny and has an excellent sense of humour. We spent most of these miserable wet days howling with laughter and were very happy to provide a lot of laughter for other boats.
We stopped for lunch at a village called Mailly-la-Ville. I must add here, that
most of the towns and villages are right next the canals. Even though the canals don’t do as much commercial business anymore, these town and villages served a purpose for industry and agriculture – hence they were close to or next to the canal. They have also done a lot to promote themselves for the tourist industry on the canals now. Some of these little places might have died without this new industry. The towns and villages are generally well kept, attractive with flowers and gardens, the restaurants provide really good food and the service is superb. They are working hard at re-investing themselves.There were a couple of bars and restaurants in the village – each town has a PMU, which is a bar where bets can be placed. The PMU serves simple food – sandwiches etc. We went to a bar/restaurant that looked OK and there were a number of locals going in there so we thought that it would be fine. We had a glass of wine in the bar first – it was served in the tiniest glasses I have every seen – really enough for a very small glug! I got to learn that the size of wine glasses in bars varied enormously.
(It was quite pleasing later on in our trip when we met an English woman who owned a bar – she asked if we would like a decent Brit size glass or a little French one!)
The restaurant was in the room behind the bar – it had quite original décor comprising what looked like lace curtains glued to the walls and huge pots of plastic plants scattered around the room. But it was spotless and tables nicely set and as soon as we sat down the waiter put an ice-cold bottle of water on the table. We had dinky little water glasses, which were finished in 2 swigs. The owner/chef informed us that we had a choice of 2 meals for lunch – lasagna or couscous. I had the couscous and Steve and Bill the lasagna. We started with a dish of cold medium poached eggs on lettuce with the most delicious home made mayo on top…and a large basket of yummy bread. This was the type of restaurant where one hangs onto the knife and fork – you give it them little wipe on a small piece of bread, eat the bread and put the knife and fork neatly together on the table mat – usually wit6h the knife resting in between the tines of the fork or balanced on top of the fork – the form being turned over so the tines face downwards. Steve and Bill enjoyed the lasagna – it was a huge serving and they couldn’t finish everything. My couscous was super – and done properly with a three-meat stew – it was tasty and filling and real comfort food. We had a lemon tart to finish – nice but a bit too sour for me – I do prefer sweet puds. Even in this small town restaurant the service and attention to detail was superb. A lot different to in the indifferent service and food we get in SA restaurants.
We got into Chatel-Censoir at about 4.30. Steve hitched the boat up to power and water and Bill toddled off to the office (this was a Connoisseur Boat Line Base) to report the broken windscreen wipers – someone came immediately to fix them and we hoped that now, by a strange quirk of fate that the rain would stop. The canal entrance to Chatel-Censoir was marvelous – a couple of chateaux by the canal and again, lovely flower boxes, neat houses and gardens and beautifully trimmed trees. The marina was almost full and we were glad to get a mooring. It had been a miserable day – apart from the lunch – and we were tired and cold. We headed into the small town for some provisions – stocked up on melons and parma ham. The small butchery (charcuterie) had the most mouth-watering goods on display; pates, terrines, sausages, hams, bacon and a good selection of meat, rabbit, pork, lamb and veal. And all beautifully presented. We found out where the boulangerie was so Steve could collect the bread and croissants in the morning. And got directions to the only open restaurant.
It was a bit of walk to there – through the town and up some side streets. It was still early but we needed a nice hot meal and early bedtime. We chose one of the formula menu’s: Pate to start, fillet en croute and I can’t remember what was on the menu for pud – which we never got. This was the only bad meal we had in France – and I think you get the picture that we ate out a lot. Firstly the pate came straight from the butchery – it was nice but fridge cold and then the fillet arrived on cold plates, the pastry was cold and hard and the fillet was the wrong side of luke warm. We called the young waitress who took the plates and came back with them some minutes later – the food had been “nuked” but only around the edges – it was still cold and even more tough and uninviting. We squished food around a bit when Steve said this was total nonsense and we should just go back to the boat. We settled the food and drinks bill – it was quite expensive – and on the way out Steve decided to go to the kitchen and speak to the chef… Steve managed to stick his head into the kitchen and this really enormous chef who was a least a head taller than Steve, pushed him back into the passage. He was definitely not having anyone in his kitchen. Bill and I were standing by the door to the restaurant and could see down the passage to where Steve and Chef were standing. It was instant altercation. The Chef had his hands on his hips and was glowering down at Steve. Steve was on his tip toes with his index finger almost up the chef’s nose. We couldn’t hear anything but we just knew what they were saying to each other. But then Bill and I had edged out onto the street and were holding the door open for a fast get-away. Steve stormed out and we charged back to boat at full speed, Bill and I in hysterics, screaming with laughter which only added to Steve’s fury. He was fuming and of course we were still hungry when we got back to the boat. Once he settled down a bit over a brandy he told us that the chef insisted that the food was not cold it was cool and that was what it should be like! Not nice hot flaky pastry and roast vegetable – who was he trying to fool?
After a couple of nightcaps it was off to bed with us. It had been a tough day all round and a very, very funny day.
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