1,002 km covered, 61 h in the saddle and 32,420 Cal burned according to the Garmin – ‘that’s about 50 bottles of wine’ I hear S exclaim after a lightening quick mental calculation. Hmmm, that’s pretty much accounted for then I think . . . oh well, back to the salad and water for the winter.
Here you can see S feeling smug at the 1000 km (i.e. The 50 bouteille du vin ) mark . . .
Our penultimate destination was La Grange de Coatelan, a lovely farmhouse just outside Morlaix where we tool advantage of the table d’hote in the company of French and Spanish guests. Then onwards to Morlaix for another dodgy AirBnB . . . Now, I know that the whole thing relies on reciprocal guest and host reviews to maintain trust between parties, but in my view there is one essential and preferentially weighted difference in the transactional arrangement, which is that . . .
I AM PAYING
I don’t know about you but this seems to me to be the key point in the whole business. Call me old fashioned, but I do not feel like, nor want to be, a guest in someone’s home. Rather, I feel like someone who is forking out a significant sum of money for a decent bed and a bit of nosh, which I feel tips the balance in my favour somewhat. Oh well, I won’t be using it again . .
So we left Morlaix and had the traditional slap-up lunch at Roscoff before catching the ferry home to be welcomed by . . . a washing machine which had broken and a car which wouldn’t start . . .