The day started with a more or less typical French breakfast. She had put bread on the table and a liter of milk ( picture). The bread I completely finished. I took the rest of the milk with me. To cover my bones’ need for chalk. Right at the moment that I wanted to go and saddle Leon I heard knocking on my door. Two persons of a local newspaper, summoned by my landlady. Did she want to profilate her chambres d’hotes or was it about my trip? Qui sas, qui sas, qui sas. Anyway, I left much later than I planned. Oh well, I console myself, if anybody is inpired by my ” folie” it at leat has some impact.
The day was all grey, mist, cold, a couple degrees C above freezing, so no fun. Brrr! In order to make a few pictures for my blog, I showed my second house in France ( photo). Also a ruin of a windmill. I thought that in WW I all French and Belgian windmills were destroyed by the Germans. Because the Netherlands were neutral our windmills were saved. So the Dutch believe that windmills are typical Dutch isn’t true. This only counts for the last 100 of years. I also saw mills in Spain and in Greece, just to mention a few. Just like the “typical Dutch” wooden shoes. Those were also common all over Europe. A little later I passed a restorated French, Burgundy windmill.
A car stops. The usual question: where are you going? Where do you come from? Completely idiot, he reacted, but with a friendly smile. Next an other car stopped: this morning’s newspaper reporter with his wife. He still wanted to make a few pictures of this odd ( my own interpretation). O.k., I said, then you can help me calling for a sleeping place. But I didn’t need his help. I managed without him. That helps me breathe more freely: shelter till sundaynight. So reason for a good mood, singing and wistling again.
A lady with a bluish shade in her hair stops and the same questions again. What does your horse eat? Whatever he can find along the road and at night. I live 1 km. ahead, she said inviting. There I’ll wait for you (does it get exciting?) and give you some food for the horse. Good anough. Her husband kept some donkeys and a few lama’s. But that would keep me up. Besides I didn’t feel like being spit in the face, ’cause that is what lama’s do. I was wet anough allready. She said the halter on the head of Leon was fixed too tight and she began , without asking me anything, to loosen it . I had adjusted the halter deliberately a bit firmer not to get every day the same pressure points on the nose of Leon . Moreover, often I pulled the halter exactly over Leons eye if it is loose. Finally, I wanted to be able to lead Leon well in the city, main reason why I had adjusted the halter tighter. I thought, let go, Harry . Still funny how some people think absolutely . I try to see things in context . That makes everything much more relative. But one extreme does not exist without the other. But I appreciated the good horse food. And thus the day passes.
I stop in front of a cafetaria. A group workers, including some Arabs, stood there, talking. Watch out one of the French warned me. He (the Arab) might eat your horse. General laughing, including the Arabs. Is this forbidden?
After a boring, long, cold trip over an ever straight road, I finally reached Nevers, still in a good mood, because tomorrow my wife Sonja and a befriended couple would join me. The last few kilometers on a small, busy road. How can I pass busy Nevers tomorrow with all that traffic? That ‘ll be tomorrow’s problem. Insh Allah! Moreover the weather forecast for tomorrow promises one degree of frost all day and a little snow. And the distance is over 30 km. The chambres d’hotes I called for monday night didn’t answer. All voice mails. It’s winter! No fun. My mood starts changing.
When I reach my chambres d’hotes ( on the phone he said he was closed in winter, but for me he made an exception) the old landlord proved to have in the rear what I have in front: my name is Henri, I said. So is mine, he anwered, but at the end. Henri was his last name!
Though I had a seperate part of the house with an own kitchenette to prepare my own meal, in the end we ate together in his kitchen, watched the news and chatted most of the evening, he rather lonesome and so was I. Our lonely situation reminded me again of my student time. Cozy, the two of us, both with a plastic bowl in one hand, a peace of bread in the other hand. He kept ducks, horses and my animals could stay in the stable with good hay for Leon. That’s it for today, because I still have to call, shower and above all go to sleep early. Areverderci.
[Caption id = “attachment_100094” align = “align none” width = “300”] 
Mgr. Henri, my tonight landlord[/ caption] 
“> 
couple of donkeys and llamas [/ caption] 
the landlady this morning of the newspaper [/ caption]
Geef uw mening