It happened at Chalon. I was tearing down the river bank after Killer Terrier, who had escaped from MWNN and was chasing a Belgian Shepherd. Reached the bottom of the bank and over went the right foot and so did
I, a over t. Half an hour later, I'm in the hospital awaiting X-rays, after an ambulance ride in which the only conversation I could have with the gorgeous attendant Samu was about the relative merits of Manchester United versus Auxonne footie teams - his English being as non-existant as my French when it came to medical matters - football, however, is a universal language.
Anyway, 'tis not broken, thanks in no small part to the American boots I was wearing. Nevertheless, we are back in Pont de Vaux until I'm off the crutches (cannes Anglais, how ironic) and more mobile. Cruising is risky at the best of times, particularly going through locks; having a non-functioning crew member aboard while doing so would just be asking for trouble. jennylyle has gone on to pick up their guest at Digoine. We may be ready to head off after them by next weekend or soon after. It's good to be back at our home base, where we know folk, have access to a car, and the neighbours are friendly. Our Irish/Swiss neighbour, Hazel, has just loaned me The Three Tenors and Robin of Sherwood DVDs. Just what I need, a good dose of Pavarotti, Costner and Rickman.
MWNN came back from shopping a while ago. He tells me they were all out of eye patches, the parrot is coming by special courier, and the spare peg-leg is being made-to-measure.