contentedsouls

Yesterday I was very snug in my bed when I was woken to the sound of the front doors opening followed by sploshing noises and the boat rocking.  I thought G might have fallen in but know that he’s a good swimmer so turned over for more snoozles before realising it wasn’t G. As I leapt out of bed I was greeted by an extremely wet Daisy cat. G had let her out just as Herbie ( the enthusiastic Airedale) was leaving for his early morning necessaries and she nearly jumped into his mouth, did an about turn and went down between the boat and the dock. It happened so quickly that we’re not sure Herbie even noticed bless him. G oicked Daisy out (kindly saving her the long swim down to the back button) and she sat eating her dinner on the galley work surface with water literally running off her tail – one way and another my galley floor has never been so clean or well oiled!

Kevin and G spotted that there was a boat coming down the Ronquieres lift and made a dirty dash for the return ascent trip (miss it and it’s at least 2/3 hours before the next chance); I had one toe in the shower and I’m not sure Debs was out of bed!! Great fun going up as we were joined by a flotilla of 8 cruisers out for the week; all tres jollie and throwing beers between boats and passing them in landing nets – their commadore spoke some English although none of the rest did, but we all gave the conversation a go and it was a very ‘happy hour’ in the sunshine. We let them go on at the top as we pulled over for dog walking. 

I find it extraordinary that both G and I are now using, inadvertently,  a little French between ourselves (when we’re speaking) and to the dogs and Daisy – even the dogs now recognise bonjour as the replacement for the ‘h’ word. There really is no English spoken here so every breath has to be thought in French and it is quite exhausting – it’s certainly curing my insomnia; I’ve never slept this well since I was a teenager!

We are on the outskirts of Charleroi now at a place called Marchienne au Pont. One of the most delightfully pretty moorings we have had in the last 7 weeks with our own personal mini Chateau de Cartier but leave the moorings and the town is a dump of rubbish and dog poo. The approach to the town is derelict power stations and graffiti and I found it photographically beautiful and atmospheric – all it needed was tumbledown rolling down the cut.

Nearly time for roast lamb and visitors, it being Sunday.

The jolly group in the ascenseur