This is Thursday’s tale. I was not inclined, after the efforts of Wednesday, to engage in a long ride, and it was quite a warm day. Peter was with me, Glenn not so much. Consequently, Glenn set off around 10 or so and Peter and I read quietly on the terrace, then we left around 11:45, planning to ride to Mazan to meet Glenn for lunch at the excellent little pizzeria there.
I am not sure where Glenn’s route took him, but ours took us to Bedoin, and then downhill all the way to Mormoiron (whee!) and west to Mazan on a wind-assisted 5km stretch of pavement in very good condition. Glenn was there waiting with a cold beer, and had already made a little tour of the town (meeting all the cats no doubt). Glenn and I had a delicious pizza provencal, with pesto, tomatoes, grilled eggplant and olives. Peter made what turned out to be an unfortunate choice, although it was apparently delicious at the time: crème fraiche, emmenthal, reblochon, potatoes and bacon (called tartiflette should anyone find themselves in the neighbourhood and in the mood for that sort of thing). It was a poor choice because since we had ridden downhill all the way to Mazan, it was inevitable that we would be riding uphill to get home. During the course of that ride, we began referring to the pizza as Peter’s baby. Very white -- just like him.
We did eventually make it home, even though I suffered the kind of mechanical failure (dropped chain wedged between crank arm and bottom bracket) that caused Andy Schleck to lose this year’s Tour. We paused very briefly in Malaucene to buy Rosanna a ticket to the Fete Votive dinner and then headed home, where Glenn surprised us with a very tasty dinner of a chilled puree of his ratatouille of the day before livened up with a bit of lemon zest and drizzled with olive oil accompanied by a little toast with tomato confit on it, then a tomato-carrot-beet salad with some leftover spelt risotto. Very tasty.
Although we finished dinner by 7:30 and Rosanna’s train was not due to arrive in Avignon until midnight, we piled into the Picasso right away (before anyone got sleepy) and headed there, where we parked right at the station and then wandered about the town, stopping for a drink and some sausage and dessert and coffee at a nice little café in a place where people also rode vespas and children played some martial arts game among the diners. Then we walked around and around and around the town, finally heading back to the station around 11:30pm.
We took one wrong turn on the way home, but that did not take us much out of the way. Then there was an unfortunate incident where I flicked off not only my bright lights but also my driving lights. Only for a moment, but still, not fun. Anyway we did arrive safely and we all had a glass of rose, and then Peter and Glenn went to bed, and then Rosanna and I had another glass and another and … so on until 4 a.m.
With Rosanna's arrival, your faithful readers are secure in the fact that the cast of characters is now complete. Some of the familiar tropes have already begun to surface, so perhaps it is opportune that I remind you of a decision you had made last year that, when it was only the two of you, it was perhaps ill-advised to open that third bottle of wine.
ReplyDeleteJust trying to be helpful in holding up the narrative threads.
GBxo