No Omelettes Tonight

I thought my pronunciation was perfect but the chap in ALDI obviously didn’t agree. ‘Ou sont  les oeufs?’, I asked, perfectly annunciating ‘where are the eggs?’ Even my impersonation of a clucking chicken didn’t seem to help. ‘Je sais pas’, he said looking at me as though I had lost my mind. Maybe I’d better keep going with my french lessons. Oh well, tant pis. We shall remain eggless until an Intermarche comes into view.

Luckily there is a reastaurant in the teeny village of Ougney Douvot near Besancon (with a twiddly thing under the ‘c’). The path here was also twiddly and very thin at times but Dickie made it down the winding roads and we are now perched by a river. We’re watching a few swans swim past and a couple of happy black dogs writhing on their backs in the dust.

Why can’t I drive?

It’s too hot to go for a walk (31 degrees outside) so I’m reading The Night Circus and Graham is reading Bill Bryson’s ‘Down Under’. He keeps reading me snippets about dangerous animals and the number of slot machines per capita that Australia boasts - like I didn’t already know that :).

The fan is whirring in the background and Hugo has been for a dip in the river by the slipway. He loves a soggy tummy in this heat.

Graham has been loving driving on the French roads, spending nights parked up in pleasant villages, and walking along the canals. The landscape of Champagne can be a little drab with only vast farms and acres of grapevines to look at as we drive along but we are headed into Switzerland tomorrow which should throw a few more curves into the situation.