Sebulon

By sebrose

French humour?

I feel OK. So ok that I tidy up the little messes that my brother and good family have left in the flat. And then I take the tube to Heathrow.

I install myself in the South Galleries lounge. In due course I’m joined by Matt, and then Jo and Tracey. We eat, talk, drink, and finally, board the plane.

At Basel we join up with Marju who flew EasyJet. There’s a taxi waiting to take us to Besançon. I snooze and then talk with some conference organisers working on Pacific Time.

Dinner is at Chez Elle in the car park of the All Suites hotel. There’s a very limited vegetarian menu. The vegan offering is even more limited, and we suspect that the pasta has butter on it. Even the salad dressing looks suspect. I gorge myself on cheese.

The ladies leave. It’s nothing to do with etiquette or cigars. Matt and I sip a Poire William. Conversation rambles and then peters out. It has been a long day.

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