The harbour, surrounded by the town
The pilot book makes less of Dieppe than it might. The town wraps around the harbour at one end while a chateau and museum commands the hill at the other, complete with several canvasses by Sickert, Pissarro and Renoir and a fabulous collection of maritime artefacts and fine ivory. The town itself is marvellously French and a charming place to wander around between boat chores and lying about with a book. Such has been life for the past four days, except for short excursion out to sea which convinced us that it remained unpleasant out there and we should return immediately to moules frites on the quay and simple suppers on deck in the sun. Tonight we even hear jazz drifting across the quays.
We needed the rest, being honest. Our break in Boulogne had enabled us to recover ourselves to some extent, only to lead to a long day on the motor to get to Dieppe. We were pleased about getting here, but another skirmish with nature drained our barely refreshed reserves. We have discovered that we needed to stop, and for longer than we imagined. We have not got as far as Plan A demanded, or even Plan
B or C, but those plans were made by those goal focused, thousand mile an hour, task-monkeys that we have been leaving behind. The sea has stripped the varnish from our decks and exposed the softer, brighter timbers beneath.
We move on tomorrow, but only because the sea and the wind will be in our favour. We leave in better health, with no need for the motor, and therefore with some quiet sailing in mind. Our holiday in Dieppe will be remembered kindly for a long time.
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