Day 5: Laval to Angers 97 km. France! No!

Lovely start to the day following the banks of the River Mayenne and I've covered 70 km by the time I stop to eat. For lunch there's what Liz calls baby's ears (dried apricots), an apple, a stick of Emmental (stolen from breakfast) and a three day old yoghurt that's been safely stored in my pannier to keep it nice and warm. The flavour of the yoghurt is described as natural but there's a fizzy, tangy thing going on as well, so that's good.

Here's my lunch spot and I think that's a Chateau in the distance but perhaps not. There was no Brit attached to it doing large scale DIY and shouting at the local builders about Henriette and Tarquin's wedding being only days away so it can't have been. These things are compulsory for Chateaus.

Popped out for a beer last night in a micro-brewery complete with rustic furniture and beer with staw in it. They're clearly emulating this new trend from the UK and it's popular. I'm just approaching the door and a bit thirsty when a group of about 15 young lads get in first. What happens next would leave any pub goer crying into their beer if only they could get one. The group forms a single line and then the first lad asks what beers are on. The barmaid points at the screen listing 10 beers by number and name. He then asks what number one is like and I have an impending sense of doom. Eventually he chooses some improbably named nettle and nut based pale ale and it's poured and put on the bar. He doesn't pay. Number two steps up and the whole charade is repeated. I am both speechless and beerless. This could take forever and it does. One by one they step up and each order a beer that is put on the bar but don't pay. Just as number fifteen has plumped for some pink monstrosity three mates arrive and join the end of the queue. This is a clear breach of pub etiquette and I am now bound to act. So I tut in a very British way: not loud enough for anyone to hear but loud enough for me to think a job has been well done.

There's now a bar with eighteen drinks on it but It's not over yet despite my forceful British intervention. What happens next is number one approaches the bar again to pay. Result! But he only pays for his own drink and picks it up. Number two steps up and does the same. Christ on a bike we'll be here all night! There's nothing for it and I have to tut again, it's the only way ahead. By the time number thirteen arrives to pay for and collect his drink I have already gone for a face palm eye roll combo to no avail and I am now in the foetal position rocking gently. A dispute then arises as number fourteen had asked for some sort of avacado ale and there's only a lentil and lemon lager left on the bar. I'm rocking a bit more vigorously now, biting the back of my hand and whimpering gently. Number 17 denies ordering the cherry surprise but it's there for all to see. Number 18 only wants an orange juice but suspects number 12 has sipped it. There nothing for it so I tut loudly enough to be heard. Everyone looks mildly puzzled.

Eventually it's over. The barmaid ask me what I would like. "Pint of number 3 please". She says "The Sunny Smile IPA?"....... ". "Yeah. That's the one. I'll pop back next week sometime to pay if that's ok with you". Btw it was a good pint.

Now see here France. We didn't kick Napoleon's derriere at the Battle of Brexit to allow this kind of cultural appropriation. Sell as much brown beer as you like but drop the bar service thing. Let's go back to the time when we would slowly dehydrate sitting outside a cafe whilst the waiter played angry birds on his phone before finally coming over after 20 minutes of us feigning nonchalence at the wait. We always ignored him for a bit the first time just so he knew who was in charge. If you continue to do death by bar service we'll kick you out of the EU. How would you like that eh?