Appendix: Mont St-Michel

When we visited with the folks as part of our Christmas reunion in 1967, it was of course far outside tourist season. Where the North Sea (English Channel, to you Limeys) meets Brittany and Normandy, December runs raw and a bit inhospitable. I’d been there before, of course, and had made it a point to read up since, so I came with a lot of questions for the docent. Less than half-way through our tour, he gave us something like the standard Gallic shrug, declared me as qualified as he to lead the tour group (the four of us), and went back down the steep street, presumably to his cidre. Needless to add, I had a ball, showing my loved ones around the Carolingian chapel, the cachots, and the gorgeous old place in general. I think we didn’t get back there in 1968-69.

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