The last day

1 The silent phase, remember, is one of the ways I described this middle phase of your three-phase holiday. Lazy daze on a Siamese boat; I sense though that it might be more sensible to talk about a yacht. It's nothing like The Riddle of the Sands, is it? Plenty of room to stow things, plenty of room to continue the previous evening's game of Scrabble. I can imagine that there are opportunities to don the captain's cap, to look towards the far horizon, and to call out commands which all those who watched Jack Hawkins in his RN roles would immediately recognise. No need to be reticent in the shouting, I guess, as the crew continue with their jobs irrespective of what the paying-actors do. Continue to enjoy. Continue to remain all at sea. Continue to remain away from the shore.

2 And in farawayland? Ah, the work continues. I visited the onetime young wife. I also visited a onetime Royal Marine whose wife died during the year, who grieves for her, who is suffering from a degenerative disease. Day by continuing day, from one month to the next, from one year to the following one, he is locked into his riser/recliner chair.

2.1 A visitor, a journeyman-visitor, can do no more than visit. There is no consolation to provide. There are no soft words which are in any way relevant. All the visitor can do is to listen, to keep the eyes on the man in the riser/recliner, to understand that the company, the presence of an other in the room, is sufficient. He has come on to the visiting list.

3 One of the night-stops will be in Bernay, a town south of Brionne. As I looked at the map, I wondered. Perhaps we could break away from the main party by cycling to Bec, there to spend the night (whilst the others cycle to Rouen). The following day, the rest day, we could have our breakfast and then cycle amiably to Rouen. Remember, the ride by the side of the Seine? We might even find one of those open-air recreation centres.