Day 15 – You should always never do that . . .

There is one particular wall cupboard in Beastie, that during the first week or so I came to despise. Whenever I came into close proximity it would seemingly reach out and whack me over the top of my head for no good reason. I don’t know why, I never did it any harm. I’d be quietly minding my own business packing away some stuff and then “thwack”. As accurate as a guided missile, always hitting the same spot, causing an explosive reaction. Laughter coming from you know, which didn’t help.

These repeating occurrences reminded me of one of my Uncle Jack’s favourite witticisms “You should always never do that”.

And so it was a little later on that day, on our short bike ride to visit the postcard perfect Eguisheim, that Uncle Jack came to mind once again. This time however, I was not on the receiving end.

But before the main event, we happened upon a “B” trailer. Less than one kilometre out from the site. Mary-Ann commented that her shorts were feeling wet. We stopped to investigate. All seemed strange. They were looking quite saturated. We continued a little further. Stopped again. She wasn’t prepared to walk around the streets looking as if she’d pee’d her pants. (spoilsport) Either we went back to site or the spare cycling jelly shorts would have to be utilised. I resisted the urge to suggest that perhaps some sort of early dementia related incontinence could be the cause. After all it has to start at some time. Maybe today was the day! I felt her saddle. All seemed OK. Then I pressed it. Water gushed from it’s sewn seams. What? Then we realised that the eighteen hours of rain up at Raon l’Etape had been soaked up sponge-like, so that she was carrying enough water to see a Dromedary through the Sahara and back. What a relief . . .

Two corners later I hear a bit of a kerfuffle behind me. Turned just in time to see Mary-Ann desperately trying to right her bike. Like a speedway rider’s back wheel, hers was sliding away from under her as she mounted a shallow kerb at too acute an angle. Clatter. The bike won. Her knee and big toe lost. A few cold water dabs later and she soldiered on.

Eguisheim didn’t disappoint.