Day 3 - The search for food

Surely the bloody supermarkets are open on Mondays?

yes they are.

But not between twelve and two-thirty. they're scoffing their lunch then. We'd have some lunch if the fucking supermarket was open...

Nolay is a little market town a few kilometres from the house and it has a few shops and a church and a town hall and a little park with a children's play area - this was great for Henry and Hannah as they had spent the past couple of days trapsing around after us in our never-ending search for food, and were in need of a good blow. In fact all of us were inneed of a good blow, so the bemused French onlookers were treated to the spectacle of 8 adults (the oldest 84) and two small children tearing around the playground swinging on the bars and abusing the see-saw in the most outrageous manner. having done that and having consumed vast quantities of bread cheese and wine, we went off to Beaune to check out the local beauty spot. This turned out to be a boating lake full of ducks and some of the clearest water I've ever seen in my life. The boats were the come-in-number-five-your-time-is-up type of craft which seemed to be manned by locals who spent most of the time standing up holding aloft a wine bottles and pouring wine into the glasses of passengers in other boats as they passed by. This balletic spectacle was being played out despite the outraged boat-hirer bellowing at them to sit down and behave. They studiously ignored the tirade and carried on.
I overheard Henry, who had been watching all this come out with a well-considered observaton that "there are a lot of French people here, aren't there, Granny?"

Yes, Henry, you can say that again.