On Monday we took Rick back to the Nordic forest trails at Prats du Perigord; this time we managed to follow the correct signs and had a pleasant circular 6 km walk. As we walked back towards the car we passed an elderly gentleman working in his potager. The conversation went something like this...
“Good morning, have you had a good walk?”
“Hello there, yes we’ve had a very nice walk.”
“What type of boat (bateau) is that?”
Boat? He can’t mean boat. Perhaps he’s talking about the dog.
“He’s a Labrit.”
“Yes, he’s a fine dog but what is that (baton) stick your wife is carrying? You are not using the Nordic poles then?
“Oh, the stick. Yes, it’s very old. Over thirty years.”
We continued to the car shaking our heads in frustration at failing to understand the French language better.
The stick I use is just a random piece of wood that Paul found in the garage decades ago. He varnished it and I like it because it’s just the right height for me and the top is shaped so my hand can easily grip it. I shall never part with it.
|Mill Gill Force, Askrigg 1984 with big Afro hair.|