It was a late start today, and a long wait before the doors to the hosts cave were opened. The journey the day before had been tiring, and she was taking a longer rest.
It was midday before the day started.
Todays plan was to visit a wine merchant. It was not a very long drive through the French countryside, but the roads were in poor repair, and there were many roundabouts and speed regulations to keep an eye on.
There was a strange junction and a traffic island was negotiated the wrong way. But nothing happened.
The decision to buy the wine was speedily made, and the wine dealer left behind.
In town, another coffee and three baguettes bought at the bakers. The bakery staff were all friendly, and seemed entertained by the inability to speak proper French. A departure from the usual kind of humourlessness.
Finally, a visit to the supermarket, and a sudden burst of rage at everything, at the French, and the gypsy woman wheeling a shoping cart, just a simple unjustifiable rage. There was complete unclarity as to what this rage might be caused by. Just a feeling of rage.
Buy apples and a few bits of sausage in the supermarket.
The rage goes away in the course of the evening.
Hopefully nobody noticed.
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