Found wifi - briefly - so here's a quick update. A slight deviation from my Alphabet of Better Writing, but there might be a literary lesson here in any case.
We're moored up in Orconte - it's not a back water, it's the tributary to some back water, and there's a junkie smoking crack in the toilet block and the man on the boat tied up behind us has said that he'll shoot him with his gun if he becomes aggressive. So that's alright then.
In fiction, as in real life, there are often absurd, sad dramas being played out in the margins of the main story. There's something faintly Chekovian about the situation here, which I'm sure will resolve itself with something more like a whimper than a bang, at least I hope it will, and the poor lad will keep searching for relief /release and the man on the next boat will enjoy an afternoon with his grandchildren that doesn't involve live target practice, and we will weigh anchor and continue our journey through the flat, agro-industrial landscape of the Haute Marne. But when you are writing, remember there's scope at the edges of your work for comic vignettes or tragic scenes, or sometimes a downbeat mix of both. Medieval stone masons and carpenters knew this well: every great cathedral has its hidden caricature carved beneath a choir stall or at the top of a pillar. It's the chance discovery of something revelatory in an unexpected place which is beguilingly appealing.
In the meantime, if you don't hear from me...
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