Yesterday, on the Rhine-Marne canal:
Does My Bum Look Big In This?
Tourist barge negotiates a lock.
"Ce soir j'attends Madeleine....." , except that in this part of the world Madeleine denotes a delightful piece of industrial patisserie and is most usually associated with Bijou (who are based in St Yrieix but whose notoriety extends to other regions of France colonised by ex-pat limousins)
I've ridden through Commercy, come to think of it. Wretched bowl of a place, maybe created by a meteorite.
Now to M. Proust: Apparently he wanted to put some other buns in
that book and someone told him to change it, so he didn't really recall them.
In the office where I worked in the 80s we decided that since the circumflex usually stands for an elided S, Marcel's surname might legitimately be written as Proût and pronounced like a gentle fart. We were carefree in those days.
My standard energy boost (boôt) when I'm starting a ride is 3 or 4 madeleines.
