All attempts to leave evade us – the weather
is great and the lure (no fishing pun intended) of the lake is too much. So we
decide to see the week out in this fabulous setting. Plus, we are determined to
break the duck on the fishing
On a more serious note we are making headway
with a couple of opportunities that we are planning to visit and the free wi-fi
is a God send. Well, that’s our justification and we’re sticking to it.
With the absurd blue of the lake beckoning
and some fresh vermeeeze on hand purchased from local surly fishing shop dude,
we’re all set and we head lake-side for some brunch and some fishing action.
Jon goes on ahead to set up fishing type
things while Noush loses some keys and nearly burns Onzo down in a
more-haste-less-speed lunch cooking effort. Upon arrival Jon claims that
various large fishy things have been swimming past and officially there are fish
in the lake. This is greeted with scepticism until (albeit somewhat later)
voila!!! Un Poisson!!!
We are assured by local dude who we offer our
left over vermeeze to (there’s beer to be drunk and the sun is setting) that
this is absolutely a lake record. We are unquestionably champions. Well done us
and he hopes for as much luck with our vermeeze.
Unquestionably lake record and yet one of our smallest catches of the day. Obviously. Ahem.
Back to L’Ermitage all sunstruck and
releaxed, whereupon our reputations as honest law abiding citizens is called
into question by scary stern Frenchwoman. Nowt to be said except always pay (we
did) and always get receipts no matter how pissed or beardy the person you are
paying (We didn’t. Error). All is smoothed over in the end and the rest of the
lovely wonderful staff assure us that we are trusted and welcomed, in fact they
set up a beer tab for us…whose error now, hic?!.
Whist basking in the success of our not
guilty verdict from the apparent unpaid bill (beardy dudes fault – as with all
beardy types he was the proud owner of a Volvo, says it all really) we have a
massive Only Fools and Horses moment. A couple of French dudes come and sit
down at the table behind us, short of stature, socks and sandals present and
correct, and not a hair out of place on their immaculately groomed grey
moustaches, they sit down and partake of some Pastis – so far so normal. What
follows is, however, somewhat joined. Like little French oopa-loompas their
numbers grow as clone upon clone arrives to join them. Every single one of them
(there are about 6 all in) look exactly the same: same hair, same age, same
stout French stature with same overly manicured moustache and oompa-loompa feet
clad in the same brand sandals without doubt they all originated from the same
gene pool. We can’t help but do double-take after double-take…ironic in some
way, non?