The disco I mentioned yesterday failed, thankfully, to materialise but in its place I contracted a stomach bug. After way too many visits to the sanitation block this morning, Clare prepared an emergency kit consisting of a plastic bag, wet wipes and a toilet roll. In the event I nursed a dull ache on our trek across Normandy to Cherbourg, and troubled not the pristine fields of France.
I write this on the ferry as we wait to leave the harbour en route for Portsmouth. Feeling better already, buoyed up by copious infusions of iced tea, and reflections of how much Carrefour wine we bought a few hours back.
