Today was mostly concerned with remaining near a toilet. Something I ate yesterday decided to upset my stomach and forced me into a most unpleasant situation.
In fact, I was up and seated for most of the night. The morning saw me washed out and delicate but I was supposed to accompany John on a morning constitutional to the river so I was standing, waiting outside the hotel at 8am.
By 8:10 I decided he must have changed his mind so I went for a walk on my own. At one point I stopped by the river, admiring the ebb and flow of the Seine, and was accosted by John and Anthea. Apparently the meeting time had been 8:30am.
Anyway, we continued on together, making light of life before stopping at a cafe for a morning drink. I told them of my digestive indisposition and decision to spend the day close to the hotel toilet. They understood and we parted company.
A while later I was feeling a bit better and decided to risk venturing out. I really wanted to see the Joan museum but, as is the way with these things, it’s closed of a Monday. Instead I walked up to the Musee de Beaux-Arts where they have a Carravaggio as well as numerous Joan depictions.
I’m glad I made the effort. It’s a marvellous little place, filled with such beauty that I forgot my ailments as I wandered around.
While I thoroughly enjoyed it all, my favourite was this Joan. It shows her vulnerability as well as her determination to do her duty. I always prefer a Joan in ordinary dress rather than armour as well.
Having spent a goodly couple of hours looking at art I decided to slowly wander back to the hotel via Joan’s church and the spot where she was burned at the stake.
I have no idea how they know where Joan was burned at the stake but it’s nice to think they think they do. Actually Darren, Jon and I checked it out last night while waiting on a restaurant decision.
Joan’s church is an interesting construction. It was built in 1979, opposite the spot of her demise.
I had thought to join the 5pm petit train but, unfortunately there were only six tourists waiting (they need a minimum of eight) so, instead, I had a beer with Bev and Jon. This was a mistake I would regret a little later.
Eventually it was time to meet up and have dinner. John had booked us into a creperie but we were a bit early so we stopped off in a bar for a beer first (again, I should have had water).
Not long after we’d sat down in the restaurant John suddenly declared he’d have to leave because of his tummy. A little later, after we’d ordered our food, Darren suddenly declared he’d have to go back to the hotel as well.
My crepe arrived and I cut a piece, held the fork to my mouth but my lips refused to open. I started feeling pretty bad and had to leave as well. (Anthea ate my crepe which made me feel better about the possible waste.)
On the way to the hotel I stayed feeling on the edge of a serious bout of puke-arama. Fortunately I managed to hold on until I reached my room and the bathroom sink.
Because the only thing in my stomach was fizzy liquid, it all came back with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption. The worst bit was how it fizzled out of my nose.
I then collapsed on the bed and was instantly asleep.
Just to ease the awful details of this post, here’s a photo of a typical Rouen building.