Am skittering around
on the River Yonne in Burgundy as I write and thought that the Proustian
illustration below would give you a sense of the challenges we face in the
drawn-out drought in central France.
We've never seen the waterways so low and
are bumping about on the bottom with frightening regularity - we had to be
pulled off the floor of the first lock we went through - but around each bend
in the river are sights so beautiful that they melt your heart and make you
forget everything, except how you might conceivably find the inspiration to put
it all into words…
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