There
should have been a post yesterday – but it was very hot, and just as we were chilling
out in our deck chairs under a shady tree with a reviving scotch on the rocks, we were joined by
three other charming boating couples berthed in the same port – one American, one
New Zealand, and one other Brit – bottles and glasses in hand, and we all sat there chatting about this and
that – canals, Greece, and life in general – till it was much too late.
To catch
up, we finally got the shower fixed at Chalons – costing, as all call-out
plumbers do, an arm and a leg. But it works, which is the main thing. It did
entail a quick visit to the ATM before we set off for Sillery – a name with
much resonance for readers of Anthony Powell’s Dance to the Music of Time
novels. Sillery being the scheming political Oxford don who figures in many of
the plot lines. I wonder if this is where Powell found the name.
Anyway, out
route was well signed, and took us past champagne vineyards on the hillsides in
the distance, and more barges loading from grain silos. We were told later by
our new friends that apparently the barges take the grain up to Holland for the
beer brewing industry.
Sillery was
comfortable, though the walk to the nearby supermarket (loads more Evian water required) took us
past a French national war cemetery. Diana zeroed in by chance on the name on one
gravestone in particular– quite a coincidence! We were also struck by seeing Christian and Muslim graves side by side.
After the
shopping we made the short hop, a couple of hours, to Reims itself, where the
pleasant port is a little close to the motorway, but you get used to the
traffic noise. Not idyllic country calm such as we are used to! Despite the heat,
we set off after lunch to do our cultural bit: Monet didn’t have to put up with
restorers on the façade:
It was
wonderfully cool inside, and there seemed to be plenty of tourists chilling
out:
We loved
the great Rose window, and also the magnificent Chagall triple window.
As we
recovered with a nice cool Stella outside in the square, we couldn’t help
noticing this group of well-dressed young men at the bar opposite – Mormons perhaps?
Revived by the beer – and iced tea for Diana –
we went to the Musee des Beaux Arts, which boasts an impressive collection of
26 Corot paintings. Actually rather somber, all together like that. Some minor
works by Impressionists like Matisse, Renoir, Sisley and so on, a pretty good
Chagall, and this rather unusual rendering of boating in the 1880s:
By the way,
the other morning we saw a cormorant diving for his breakfast as we cruised
by, which put me in mind of the Isherwood poem:
The common cormorant (or shag)
Lays eggs inside a paper bag,
You follow the idea, no doubt?
It's to keep the lightning out.
Lays eggs inside a paper bag,
You follow the idea, no doubt?
It's to keep the lightning out.
But what
these unobservant birds
Have never thought of, is that herds
Of wandering bears might come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.
Have never thought of, is that herds
Of wandering bears might come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.
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