Nine-thirty this morning the 'green brigade' arrived. Eight men all glowing in hi-viz and armed with petrol fuelled equipment ready to strim verges and cut hedgerows. As they set off the noise they emitted from their various machines was like a swarm of angry hornets. If there's one thing Angela always remembers about France, it's the ongoing maintenance of flower beds, shrubs and public gardens. Summer and winter everywhere here looks neat. Today we cycled over to St. Martin de Re to see the donkeys.
Cycling should be more reliable than travelling in Marge. Or would it be? Just as we arrived at St. Martin de Re John noticed his front tyre had deflated. Air was leaking out from around the valve.
For goodness sake. What would happen next! Our Brompton bicycles have sixteen inch wheels. Despite there being bicycle hire shops everywhere on the island, the chances of finding an inner tube this small was probably zilch! Angela wasn't worried. There are a fleet of small electric buses buzzing around the island, all we'd have to do was fold the Brompton's and hop on. So she thought. Reading the very small print under the bus timetable it stated surfboards and velo's, (bicycles), must be bagged before boarding. Make life just a little more difficult, why don't you! Oh well it was only a three mile walk back to La Flotte. Ready for lunch, and with just one more bike shop to ask at when they reopened at two o' clock, we sat by the sea lock and ate our salads.
Then a miracle happened. Mathilde at Les Velos du Mathilde had the correct size inner tube. Result! Our luck was changing. Ten euros later. Job done. Our return cycle took us back past the Decathlon sports shop where we decided it might be wise to stop and purchase two more sixteen inch inner tubes. Cost, just over three euros each. But hey, who cared about the cost. Mathilde had saved the day. Back at La Flotte we stopped to make use of the free internet connection at the tourist office by the harbour. As we sat by the children's carousel an elderly couple joined us. The Best of the Bee Gees pumped out as the carousel turned. We were not sure the music was suitable for young children, but we got right into it, very loudly singing along to 'how deep is your love'. Remember that song in the film, Saturday Night Fever, John Travolta fans? Reluctant to leave this impromptu karaoke session we left the French couple thinking, 'crazy English', and cycled back to Marge, where shortly after our arrival chaos began. A monster of a van slotted in next to us. Television satellite receiver was duly erected and began rotating at speed. Disaster. The trees above were blocking the signal. The couple asked the large vans opposite if they could all budge up to make room for them. No chance. So desperate was the wife, she suggested the husband squeeze their van into a space too narrow, so they were almost touching the vans either side. Aerial back up. Signal detected, a thumbs up from the wife and they were happy. Not so their neighbours who could barely open the side doors on their vans. A few minutes later the T.V. couple went out. You couldn't make it up. Never a dull moment here in France Marge.
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