Up up its six O'clock and we've got a ferry to catch . A slurp of coffee later and we're out of the door,yet we needn't have bothered as we arrived in New Haven far too early. For breakfast the father requested the epitome of fine cuisune, the roadside truckers caff. This resulted in bacon sandwiches all round and the conversation turned to the fine art of having a eating depot (as it can hardly be called anything else) in a lay by.
The journey was relatively uneventful but it felt like you had stepped in a time machine as soon as you stepped on board, the decor was dated to say the least and the furniture seemed to be recycled aeroplane seats- well at least they found a use for them..
After a long day of travelling I was ready to snuggle up in my bed but alas this was not the case as we were informed on arrival at the B and B that there was a fete de musique in the next village- so of course we went.
I was suspicious of the 'festival' when we arrived at like 10pm and it hadn't even started yet but that's the Europeans for you. To say it was strange would be an understatement as the first band on were rapping in french, with a trumpet and a saxophone, seeing is defiantly believing this bizarre mix..
Nevertheless I felt inclined to buy the CD at the end of the band's set or as they call it in French 'un album'
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