As we pulled away from the delightful and totally unexpected grotto with the inevitable, but none the less beautiful and spiritual, statues of Mary, who was both on her own and, a little further on, comforting her dying/dead son Jesus, I looked towards Mary and said.
"You are some lady you are. Right there with it too. fancy you knowing about and messing with my sat nav again and bringing me here."
We were on our way from a pleasant visit to the very touristy, dull and misty, but good all the same, 'Mont st Michel' to our next destination at 'Arromanches les Bains' and the still visible sections of the massive Mulberry harbour. A good place, I figured, to start a few days of visits to the 'Plages de Debarquement' of Normandy. These are the beaches where on June 6th 1944 Allied troops landed and fought their way over the following 12 weeks to Paris. 37,0000 Allied service personnel and 55,000 Germans gave of their lives in the combat. Plus the civilian loss of life, property and way of life.
I am one of the beneficiaries of all that suffering. I have enjoyed a life of peace, wealth and health which, had that dreadful but eventually successful day not have occurred, may have been very different.
The Mulberry harbour's huge semi circle of floating concrete pontoons were towed over the English channel in sections and anchored in place. This amazing feat of human inventiveness and ingenuity enabled thousands of tons of equipment to be disembarked from over 7000 ships. Sections of it can still clearly be seen poking out from where they now lie on the seabed tilted and askew. Some are still in position and showing the size of the semi circle. Others, ravaged by the stormy seas during the previous 69 years lie scattered closer in to the beach.
Now; and here we go back to my visit to 'Mont st Michel' and in particular the excellent €12.50 camping car Aire at 'Beauvoir' which is a straight, dead level, and easy peasy bike ride from the Mont itself. We had done our usual and walked as much of the Mont as we could. Not unusually the best bit, the tour of the Abbey itself which surmounts the Mont, was 'No Dogs'. All the same a must visit and very picturesque, impressive etc. Back at the Aire we were snug and settled for the evening with goodish internet access.
"Great," thinks I, "lets update things." Things like the maps on Mrs Sat Nav.
"Good idea" says I.
Uh-ho!! This statement was quickly followed by a string of expletives as Mrs Sat Nav blithely informed me she had very efficiently deleted all my maps and would now download the new updated ones. Maps, by there very existence, contain a lot of information. This was a huge download. OK; so I had a 'goodish' internet connection but not a fast internet connection. A download such as I was about to embark upon can be likened to Londons rush hour traffic having to all divert down a narrow country lane. Not good! Indeed it was not good at all. 2am passed before all was restored and Steveyboy hit the pillow.
Mrs Sat Nav was of course forgiven and programmed next morning to take us to 'Arromanches' using main roads. This to facilitate a reasonably speedy trip. Indeed off we went on the main road away from the Mont. About an hour later I noticed we were certainly not on anything remotely resembling a main road. Mrs Sat Nav with, I am convinced, spiritual or whatever you want to call it, intervention, had re set herself to toddle down the wee back roads. And the first place to stop and investigate? Yup! You've guessed. The delightful little Grotto on a cross roads just outside the village of 'Torigny sur Vire'. The sun was shining too.
If you remember the beginning of this story you will remember I said 'again' indicating this is not the first time Mrs Sat Nav has been 'meddled' with. My re-visiting 'Eymet' was down to the same thing only in a subtle manner where the mistake was recognized equa distance from returning to my intended route or continuing to 'Eymet'. Very clever. Very subtle. Very 'the Universe knows'.
So here We were at a beautiful Grotto dedicated to the feminine and in particular to Motherhood. And here was I, noticing as I sat peacefully in the sunshine in this beautiful place, that at this precise moment I had three Mothers to be appearing in my mind, Emily my stepdaughter, Justine my daughter in law and Ruth my niece. A time of reflection which was enjoyed before a gift of Euros was donated in exchange for a lighted candle dedicated to the health and well being of the three new Mums to be and safe arrival of the legendary Stork with its lively, noisy and kicking package.
- - -
How things change. Friday today and the plan was to visit 'Pegassus bridge' and possibly 'Caen'. However; the weather is the pits! Relentless and heavy rain and no let up in sight. On top of that Sadie is developing leaks. This is not good news for motorhomes. Consequently mood is rather on the low side at present. Ho hum. Never mind ferry to UK next week and hopefully we can get all sorted then.
Sequel; Sadie is under cover tonight, surrupticiously! Last night we parked outside a farmers barn amid the grain fields. He was there when we arrived and indicated no problem. The barn is on the edge of a prosperous small village called 'Fontaine Henri.' We left amid the pouring rain this morning but after a desultory and wet visit to 'Ouistrehan' I decided to return, be cheeky and park in the virtually empty but dry barn to investigate the main leak and put some extra sealant around a couple of suspect points. Mr Farmer has not been back. We have done a walk around the village and it's mainly comprised of three farmsteads but I cannot identify which one the barn belongs too. I'll stay here overnight to let the sealant dry. Fingers crossed he wont be back or if he does, that he wont be too upset.
If you read about a British motorhomer being arrested in Normandy for squatting in a farmers barn ......... well I guess that'll be me then!!
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