We rolled off the ferry and took an interesting tour of the back roads around Caen in search of petrol before hitting the autoroute in the direction of Rennes. Stopping at a service station for smokes or Jaffa Cakes according to personal inclination, we checked phones and learned that disaster had struck the other British group who had come via the Eurotunnel: one of their number had had a spill on a wet and diesel-covered road and dislocated her shoulder. Full marks to the French scooterists for retrieving her and her bike; zero marks to Norwich Union and the AA, whose European cover didn't.
We reached Rennes and found our hotel with time for a shower and change before the French contingent arrived to collect us at 7:30. After introductions and the kissing on both cheeks thing we were escorted in a scooter convoy to the town centre for pizzas.
The scooters were mostly X9s, with a fair few Burgmans (the continental models come with many more bells and whistles than the British get), one Aprilia Atlantic and my Nexus, plus a handful of geared bikes.
Conversation at dinner was lively in both languages, helped along by Eric, an irrepressible Belgian who was incapable of silence for more than a few seconds. Someone ordered a Coke: "Ah - Coke en Stock!" commented Eric. "Ah - Tintin!" I said, and entente cordiale was established.
We pleaded exhaustion and were back at the hotel by 11:30, ready for an early start to the weekend's riding.