On Sundays, the harbour Capitaine in Nancy is a youngish looking man who is we are sure, considerably older than he feels, with his unfashionably longish hair, Metallica Tee Shirts, chunky jewellery, firmly espousing his love for Australian rock bands.
As we checked into the port today during a brief respite from the precipitation, we spoke of many things.
Conversations of import seem always to commence with a discussion on the weather, and how the rain last night had barely let up, which was fine for us I recall telling him as we have almost no leaks in the forward cabin any more and they don't matter too much because Jan and Ian are sleeping there not us. He sympathised and informed me that his wife and children are assisting him with the restoration of a house from the sixteenth century and there are many leaks in the roof at the moment and he's hoping he gets them sorted before winter.
He told me it began as a project of economic necessity, but has turned into a labour of love, and they are having a lot of fun resorting it to it's original state.
I wondered briefly how one lives restored in the sixteenth century, without heating, insulation, plumbing or electricity but we were interrupted before he could explain.
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