Tuesday 20th August
It must be getting close to the end of our holiday because I am getting daily emails from Ryanair written in ambiguous “New speak” trying to trick me into buying more luggage space – bastards. Talking of bastards: coarse fishermen are the lowest form of life! Between the ages of 10 and 16 I was a very keen coarse fisherman but I am pleased to say I grew out of it. On the canals of England the fishermen are awful, they moan like hell when you go past and spread their equipment all over the tow path. Up until now we have had little interaction with French fishermen but yesterday that changed. Just before each lock is a little wooden platform which is designed for me to crash into so that Gill can nimbly jump ashore to operate the lock or wake the lock keeper up if it is manned.
We motored up to one of these platforms to find a fisherman had four rods laid out across it plus his comfy chair and probably his lunch. I smashed into the first rod, Gill jumped ashore and swore at him whilst I shouted about how he probably never knew his father and that a fat French person should not wear a vest in public. He seemed to be ready to re-enact the hundred years war but fortunately a waterways van was passing, I flagged it's driver down and he went and told the stupid fisherman he was lucky I only hit one rod. After that bit of goodwill to our European cousins we arrived in Narbonne, another pleasant French city where the canal passes straight through the centre.
We are moored up close to the cathedral and a bridge covered with shops which seems to be something of a tourist magnet. What is worrying us is that no one else is moored here, why not? Perhaps by tomorrow we will find out. A huge music festival is being set up around us on both banks but that does not start until Thursday, we will have left by then worst luck.
The picture opposite shows a new sundial in the Archbishops Garden. It is surrounded by trees which were there before the dial so the sun never shines on it - perhaps the artist did not do a site survey!
Paul Riquet the patron saint of the canal was clearly a thoughtful, person and very considerate to the needs of the women of Languedoc. We have come across lots of little “bus shelters” along the canal and had no idea what they were for. We have now discovered he had them built to make it easier for the women to do the weeks washing. The roof protects them from the sun (or rain) and when they were built the main floor was low so they did not have to bend down to do the washing (most have been filled in to stop them filling with crap) – what a gentleman!
Below are the plane tree roots which hold all the banks together, perhaps something we should try on our canals.