Dinner was basic but their seemingly lack of fastidious etiquette for how they eat impresses me. Maybe the rich and famous are a little more critical, not sure. Depending on the food, it can be knifed and forked together, forked only, or hand eaten. No bread plates are used, but the demeanour of the table cloth is such that you can do what you like with the bread on the cloth or your dinner plate. In between mouthfuls, your cutlery mostly sits splayed out from the plate to the table cloth (the plate is for food), but if room can rest on the plate. When finished, cutlery is mostly together, parallel to you or perpendicular, or on the cloth beside your plate. At the end, after utensils removed, the table cloth is rolled up and shaken or washed depending on its state. I love it.
At the table was a middle aged Frenchman, Frenchwoman of Asian appearance, two medical students, a student studying Russian, an older walker and us. The students, all girls (this is the Abbaye for the nuns (girls home), while the other huge Abbaye estate is the boys home (monks). The students say they are studying here because it is quiet (not sure what’s happening at home).
They mostly comfortably ignored us as we only speak words here and there, but when we spoke a combination of English-French-Spanish, the Russian speaking French girl would translate.
We said goodbyes the next day and the huge breath was there to meet us, pushing, pulling, earlier freezing us, later cooling, with the light finding us through rushing cloud-holes. Aches and pains are slowly withering, or just becoming part of a new walking-feel. Mostly walking on a main road, finding it rather easy these days, not yet tiring of the canola plants, or the lush green, and certainly not the fresh air, being used wisely by the nearby wind farms, so we do not see it as an ill wind any longer.
Walking past an information centre a young woman rushed out and offered us accommodation just down the road which will be good to vacate. She gave us the entry code as she could see we were pilgrims -large pack, poles, weary and looking lost. We entered a lovely clean home and rested a little. Not sure which room to take (owner not there), we were followed by the info woman who settled us in till the owner arrived in 15 mins.
A lovely man, who is doing this in retirement, turned on the heaters, showed us where things were, especially the kitchen and bits of food we could cook, because in this town there is a supermarket! but nowhere to eat.
Now time to post this blog because the only wifi is with Sylvia in the info office, what would we do without her.