Prévost

It feels like it's been a whirlwind few days.... but Montreal wasn't happy at my departure, and she showed it the next day by opening the heavens on me...I knew that we had something special and that I shouldn't have just snuck out while she was sleeping but, but, but... sometimes that's just the right thing to do.

Rock bottom mood.

My waterproof (bastard) overshoes failed to live up to spec, as was the same with my expensive waterproof (crappy) trousers ...

...no one like a soggy bottom.

Salvation came in the form of Abigail (WS host) who offered some much-appreciated floor space and saved me from the cold dank mankyness that was this morning's torrential trundle out of Montreal through crossroad and traffic light after crossroad and traffic light.

I've only really got phone data here, via an eSIM, so SMS doesn't work and phone calls route via UK costing a fortune. Hence why Abi and I hadn't properly arranged anything and I found myself knocking on her door to no reply.... until it eventually opened to the face of a confused guy...

Me: "Hi, is Abi home?"

Guy with French accent: "no, she's out"

Me: "Ermmmm, I'm Rick"

- blank look from guy -

Me: "She said I could stay here tonight "

As soon as I'd said it I realised I could have phrased it better.

Guy: "There are no spare beds"

Hmmmm. What exactly did that mean?

Me: "Are you Abi's partner?"

I'm not quite thinking sensibly after a long day's soggy cycle...
all sensible conversational lines of 'please give me a warm bed' are evading me.

Guy: "No, I'm her housemate"

I got the feeling from the way he looked at me that he thought I was here to replace him like some pretender to the throne. It was getting weirder and weirder. For the love of God I just want to get out of these cold, wet skanky shorts.

He was going to work.

He did go to work.

I could sit on the veranda.

I sat.

....

There was a motel 4 miles away. I rang. They had space. They could accommodate my bike. It was only 2 stars but I was freezing my bum cheeks off sitting on the drive of an empty house.... why hadn't I left yet?

A car pulled up. It took all my efforts to move my rigor mortised legs into action and collision evasion.

Abigail!

There follows a lovely evening chatting with really bright shiny spirited person (am I allowed to say that without sounding like an old git?), who sorted me out with a mattress and Chaga tea (think decaff mushroom moca), local intel and even some contacts for my future stops!

Lovely.

Geoffrey, the French housemate, returned later and was happy with the WS explanation, which was nice since I was too tired to battle for the lodger throne.

To bed, to sleep - perchance to dream.Read more