Alone in Beaune

Last night I spent a peaceful evening alone in darkest Burgundy, alternating a bit of writing, and sewing a few threads of silk in the plain denim shirt that I am brightening up with a little of my mad embroidery. I played some music on my iPod player for a bit, then later reading from my Kindle in bed. I am just over half way through ‘At the Edge of the Orchard’ by Tracy Chevalier. I usually read a little when I go to bed and carry on until I start to feel sleepy. Once I drop the Kindle and that jogs me awake again, I put it away and snuggle down to watch the big Tonight Show in Dreamland. 

 

The above it is my view over the wall from my gite.

Very little time had passed, maybe a couple of dozen ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ’s When an almighty clap of thunder rumbled through lasting a good minute. Within no time at all there was a symphony of ear shattering bangs and cracks putting many an eighty piece orchestral crescendo to shame. No twenty minute flash in the pan for this thunderstorm. It was impossible to sleep under the timber roof of the converted barn of the gite I am staying in right now; the noise of the accompanying downpour of rain could have shattered eardrums. The storm that seemed to have been hemmed in by the height of the Côte d’Or just behind the house, where the vineyard adjoining slopes exquisitely up to the top of hill that has a handful of seven kilometre bike climbs to get up it. That is the only account I can think of, as to why the fearful heavenly rant lasted until the early hours of the morning.

 

 

Today I was planning to go for a long walk through the vineyards, notebook in hand as usual, camera at the ready, stopping at one of the many little wine villages for lunch. I am too long in the tooth to deliberately go out in the rain, especially with regard to the fact that I have come here without a coat. I was expecting summer.

Yesterday afternoon, this was of no matter, it was baking hot and my hair dripping beads of sweat, whilst I watched the late stages of the 24 hour silly bike ride that was storming to a close. The once sparkling two person machines that had gleamed and preened at the start, were now caked with mud after riding through the deluge of Gods objection to the race. It was jolly entertaining and most admirable for those who rode it out in every weather condition known to man including inches of hail stones. Below is my favourite endurance bike, I think in had many pit shops including one to re-affix his head and another because his tail dropped off! Imagine pedalling that around for 24 hours.

 

 

The Dragon Who Lost His Tail 

He’s the bravest dragon there ever was

I know that it’s true my dear because

I’ve seen his bravery at first hand

When I was in France that foreign land

Each year they hold a fantastic race

It takes courage and endurance to face

The race goes on for twenty four hours

They pray for sunshine and not for showers

All home made bicycles so it would seem

But they must also have a heroic theme

Two riders must be together on each craft

Building the stead must have made them laugh

It should combine both knowledge and skill

Strength of spirit, body and pig headed will

This if not an event for a Sunday biker

Who normally is just a settee hiker

One needs stamina and pendulous balls

To get through this day when duty calls

Thankfully there can be a team relay

But these changes are fast so not to delay

Working as a team with a cycling mate

Boundless energy has them feeling great

Pedal onward hour upon exhausting hour

Not time for second thought or to cower

Lap after lap endlessly through the night

Thru' darkness whilst pedalling into the light

Power to pedal those heavy dual bikes

As thunder cracks and lightning strikes

The competition is fierce from super powers

Batman, wonder woman, and green hulk glowers

Handsome dragon has the greatest beauty

Determined yet to fulfil his greatest duty

Through endless laps he will prevail

Ignoring the fact that he lost his tail