36-hour flying visit to France

After nearly two years, it was finally time for me to go back to Cathy's house in Magnac-Laval in the Limousin. Cathy had already booked a quick trip to check on the house before the start of the summer rental season but it had initially looked like I wouldn't be able to join her due to work commitments. That turned out not to be the case so I grabbed myself some cheapy Ryanair flights and looked forward to a brief sojourn one of my favourite places in the world.

We arrived at Limoges airport at 4pm on Sunday and went to pick up the hire car. Because it was such a short trip, we had decided not to fork out for an extra driver but the very sweet lady behind the counter heard us talking about that, peered at Cathy's driving licence and said "It's your birthday in a few days. I offer you a present - the extra driver for no extra money"! Fortunately, I'd taken my driving licence so I was added to the paperwork and we were off, in a very shiny new Renault Clio. Well, we were off after we'd worked out how to actually start it. It was so new that it had a smartcard and a Start/Stop button instead of a key. However, it took us a while to work out that it was impossible to start the engine unless the car was in neutral and the footbrake was depressed!

By 6pm we were at the lovely Étoile de Mer. The village was completely silent and deserted, just as we expected on a Sunday. We sorted out a few things in the house and then went for our requisite constitutional round the village. Very little, if anything, had changed. All was quiet which backed up our suspicion that we would have to go further afield to find any dinner. We drove to Le Dorat where a restaurant we had been to before was open but seemed to have doubled its prices so we carried on to Bellac, convinced that even on a Sunday evening in March, there would be somewhere open for food! We were wrong. Well, almost wrong. Seemingly, the youth of Bellac are responsible for just one place staying open on a Sunday evening - a kebab shop (Matine Kebab, 9 Place de Palais, Bellac)! Until now, I had managed to avoid crossing the threshold of a kebab shop even once in my entire life but I have now broken my duck. Back home, we tucked into our enormous toasted feta panini and chips, washed down with the only alcohol in the house - vodka! It was, given our long day of travelling and what felt like an even longer search for food, absolutely delicious!

Tuesday dawned bright and sunny, neither of us having been awoken by the 7am church bells. We wandered to the supermarket to stock up on the small amount of food (yet alarmingly large amount of alcohol) we needed for the next 24 hours, then headed to Chez NouNou for breakfast and WiFi. Well, in my case, just breakfast. I have to say it does frustrate me that my (by no means cheap) iPhone regularly fails dismally to connect with free WiFi, especially abroad. Anyway, a lovely croissant, butter and jam filled a hole and we headed back to the house for a few housekeeping jobs and then off we went into the sunshine. First we went to the lovely Pont Gothique, between Le Dorat and Bellac, which was one of our early discoveries on our very first trip in 2004. Our standard delicious picnic lunch of Emmenthal-stuffed baguette moulée and (perfect) cheap greasy crisps set us up very nicely for the next part of our afternoon.

We drove to Roumilhac, a tiny winding village where the only people we encountered were a small group of farmers standing in the road staring at us as if we had just landed from outer space. The ensuing 7km walk made for one of the nicest days I've had for a long time. We had struck gold with the weather. We had blue sky and 25 degrees all day, with not a cloud to be seen. Our walk took us through tiny villages, along the banks of the Gartempe, over wooden and stone bridges, under a huge but now unused viaduct, up hills, down slopes, past a disused railway station and finally, back to Roumilhac. It was a wonderful, relaxing three hours during which the only sounds were birdsong, the rushing of the river, the snort of a wild boar (or so we thought - it turned out to be a crow!), the occasional dog barking and the sound of our own voices. I forget just how tranquil this part of the world is until I get back there.

Once we'd finished our walk, we had planned to head to a local lake to lounge on the sand in the evening sun. However, just a couple of miles outside Roumilhac, at Balledent, we stumbled across an enticing little café, Chez Isa - the front was fairly unprepossessing, it just faced the small track we had driven up. However, sneaking a peek round the side of the building revealed a rear terrace on stilts which was flooded with sunlight and overlooked the river. The lake idea was discarded and we ventured in to the café and out onto the terrace. It was such a beautiful spot, a real sun trap and, for a little while, we were the only customers. A cold drink, comfy outdoor seating and a chat with the very friendly owners made the next hour or so fly by. Eventually, we had to concede that it was time to head home and make some dinner. Magnac-Laval on a Monday evening is no busier than a Sunday! We rustled up a ginormous pan of pasta and veggie sauce and then opened a bottle of fizz to celebrate the fact that Cathy has owned this little slice of paradise for ten years!!! The first couple of Kir Royales slipped down far too easily so we moved on to normal fizz and then (!) on to 2 bottles of wine! It was probably just as well that we had enough pasta for half a dozen people to soak up all that booze. We played very silly board games, giggled a lot and sang along with the well-used 80s CDs (whilst noting which would go well for a forthcoming karaoke night in Brighton). At just gone midnight, despite the fact that we had learnt on our day of arrival that there had been a murder just down the road in January, and no-one had been caught, we decided to go stargazing. It was a beautifully clear night and we wandered over towards the very dark streets at the back of the hospital. We had our fill of constellations (no shooting stars though) and wended our way back home, just possibly singing a few 80s numbers a little too loud - bloody Brits abroad, eh?!

We crashed out as soon as we got home and were rudely awakened by our alarms the next morning, a bit too early! We completed the rest of the tidying and cleaning of the house, popped out to grab a couple of little pressies, dropped the recycling off and then drove over to see a friend of Cathy's. She lives in a lovely house with a huge garden and we spent a nice hour or so there, chatting and drinking tea before having to face the fact that it was time to head to the airport and go home. We had a brief fright when Cathy's sister texted her to say she hoped that the French Air Traffic Control strike wasn't causing any problems with our return. Er, strike?! What strike?! It was true, but fortunately, it was only hitting Paris, Marseilles and a couple of airports on the south coast apparently. So we headed off to Poitiers airport which, should you ever go there, has pretty dreadful signposting both to the airport and to the car hire dropoff. Still, we made it in time and before we knew it, we were back at Stansted and heading home.

It felt like we'd been away for a week. It's amazing how relaxing just a couple of days away from home can be, and how much we always manage to fit in to such a short space of time. I'm looking forward to my next visit, whenever that might be.


My photos are HERE

5 days in rural France (in great detail!)

Saturday April 21st, 0515hrs - yup, in the morning! As usual, I got up wishing I'd gone to bed earlier but never mind. I had a holiday to look forward to. It was time to return to Magnac Laval and to Cathy's little house, Étoile de Mer. At 6am, we set off from Cathy's to our park-and-ride place 10 minutes from Stansted. It really is time somebody started flying to Limoges from a more convenient airport! Still, the journey to the airport and the flight itself were uneventful and before we knew it we had landed in grey, rainy Limoges. Cathy's lovely little Renault 4 (Renée) had been helpfully left in the car park by a friend so, after a slightly faltering start where we both managed to forget that the car had a choke which was needed to start her, we set off. After a stop for necessities from the supermarket, we got to the house. It had had a little facelift since the last time I saw it - brand new shutters upstairs and all the shutters and the front door had been given a coat of very lovely blue paint. We dumped our stuff then went for a wander round the village. First stop was unexpectedly l'Escapade, the local bar where, even though it was technically closed, we were allowed in to say hi to Tony and to watch a bit of the setup for the karaoke that night. We'd already made dinner plans but we promised to pop along later, thinking we could always dip out if our nerve failed!
The cute but very old-fashioned village supermarket had finally closed down due to a combination of the ill-health of the owner and the presence of a "proper" chain supermarket half a mile away. It had been replaced by Chez NouNou, a little café with a good selection of drinks, basic snacks, a TV and, most importantly, free WiFi.
In the evening we headed off to Restaurant La Gartempe, a 20 minute drive from the house. It's run by a lovely British couple - I should know both their names having been there three times now, but I can only remember that Rachel is the front-of-house half while her husband concocts gorgeousness in the kitchen. The food is always utterly scrumptious with a good vegetarian option. This evening's fare was sweetcorn and chickpea balls, followed by spinach and potato pie with salad. Despite being pretty full, I couldn't resist hot red fruits and ice cream. We'd had a long chat about the first round of the French elections which were due to take place the following day. Rachel is actually on the local council for La-Croix-sur-Gartempe but as a resident Brit, she can't vote in the regional or national elections.

And so we headed back to Magnac and to l'Escapade. It was packed and we nearly changed our minds but we're glad we didn't. It was a fantastic evening - everyone threw themselves into karaoke (including us), VAST quantities of wine were drunk, and we bumped into Jo, a girl we'd met there last August during another raucous drunken evening, and her new bloke, Mark. Although the bar was populated almost exclusively by Brits for this particular night, three brave older local guys came in, plonked themselves down at a table and, after watching proceedings for a while, attempted to join in despite clearly not knowing a single word of English. They seemed to do pretty well with Beatles numbers. One of the tables had a birthday group - the birthday girl herself, Elsie, turned 91 at midnight and she was presented with a huge cake. 91 or not, she was up and dancing with the rest of us! The bizarre highlight of the evening was one of the regulars disappearing out to the loo, only to return dressed very convincingly as Bob the Builder, which led to an odd karaoke version of the theme tune. Rather a lot of us knew all the lyrics, rather worryingly. At half midnight, we were finally prised out of the bar but the evening wasn't over. Jo had told us that there had been a rather strange man wandering the streets of the village late at night recently so she and Mark walked us the 50 yards back to the house. Seeing as there was plenty of booze in the house we all went in and carried on for a couple of hours. Drunken darts. Drunken Guess Who. Drunken everything. Jo and Mark left at 3am but then, instead of sensibly going to bed, we decided to go stargazing! We finally gave up at 3.45 am, nearly 24 hours after we'd got up.



Sunday 22nd April - I woke up at 11am feeling alarmingly well, all things considered. The less said about poor Cathy until about 4pm the better! We finally made it out of the house at 1.30, but only to stagger to Chez NouNou again. We slobbed on the sofas, drank coffee and hot chocolate, watched the Monte Carlo tennis final (well done, Nadal), managed some stodgy hangover food and then made it back to the house. It was still raining, as it had been pretty much since we arrived, so we started giving the house a spring clean. At 5.30 there was a break in the weather so we went out for a walk all round the village. Just as we were getting back, we noticed something scuttling along the gutter heading straight for the crossroads at the centre of the village. It was a tiny mole, and it was heading for certain death! Mad English animal lovers to the rescue. What a task it was! We tried stopping it with our hands (I can confirm they have rather sharp teeth!), with my coat, with our feet but no matter what we put in its way, its incredibly strong little nose and front feet managed to force through. In the end, Cathy emptied her tiny handbag out and we managed to get the squirmy, squeaky little bugger zipped up inside! We hurried to a nearby field which houses 4 horses and 3 donkeys and let him go. He only went about a foot before burrowing neatly down into the ground and vanishing! On the way back, we popped to the square to see if anything was happening at the Mairie (the Town Hall) at the end of the days' voting. We'd heard that the count of the ballot papers is frequently public and lo and behold, we could see lots of frantic counting and various locals watching. We were too embarrassed to go in and watch so we went back to the house, rustled up a chickpea stew, played a few very silly games but by 11pm we were trashed and crashed!

There's a mole in there, I promise.

Monday 23rd April - After 10 hours' sleep, we managed our obligatory croissants for breakfast from Mme Monediere at the boulangerie on the corner, and then went out for another rainy wander. After completing necessary practicalities at the Post Office and the bank, we visited Joelle, a lovely local lady who is very welcoming but incredibly hard to understand due to a combination of hardly any teeth and the fact that she makes no allowances for our ropey French. Still, between us, we managed a conversation about the election (including the rather spectacular results achieved by Marine le Pen of the National Front), the retirement age and rather inexplicably, the danger of older men falling off rooves (there may have been a translation problem here). Joelle's husband returned at one point and the chat became a little easier because he speaks much more slowly and clearly. As we were leaving, Joelle gave us five dinky little eggs from her chickens and we knew what we were having for dinner.
We drove to Le Dorat to meet Collette, a South African lady who lives out there and who had helped Cathy out by booking Renée in for her MOT, due to take place on Tuesday. We popped into my favourite church (yes, I'm an atheist but I'm still allowed to like the buildings!) and then on to La Petite Fontaine, a lovely café which is popular with Brits and French alike. In rather British fashion, I had a jacket potato with baked beans! When we left, it was still absolutely tipping it down but we decided not be put off. We grabbed the map and just headed for somewhere neither of us had been before - l'Isle Jourdain, about a 40 minute drive to the west. It turned out to be lovely. The main square is up on high, but you can then follow winding, narrow streets through the oldest part of the village right down to the river and the bridge across to the other side of the village. Halfway across the bridge we spotted two wrought-iron gates, chained, but along the overgrown driveway we could just about see a very rundown but absolutely massive house. Attached to the gates was a For Sale sign so we started to speculate on what it actually was and how much it might be on the market for.

Just upriver is a huge viaduct which can be reached on foot but just as we were contemplating taking a stroll up there, the heavens opened and we headed uphill as fast as we could back to the square. We stopped at a deserted café to warm up then grabbed the car and drove back through more torrential rain.  We read for a bit while more rain hammered down on the roof of the sun (!) terrace, then made a delicious omelette with the eggs from Joelle. We listened to music and played more silly games until bed.



Tuesday 24th April - What on earth was going on? We woke up to blue sky and sunshine. After a leisurely brekkie of croissants and Emmenthal we headed first to the reduced-price porcelain warehouse, where I got two sideplates for a stupidly low price (€4.25) and then on to our favourite tat shop, Ecogem, to buy cheap plasticky pointlessness. Then it was on to Bellac where we stopped for lunch at Madame Corbett's, a little sandwich shop run by a friendly Scottish lady. She was lovely but, no offence, not really the best at running a café despite saying she had been working as a waitress or similar for over 30 years. She got our drinks order wrong, we waited over 20 minutes for a simple panini (there were no other customers) and the arrival of 5 other customers practically finished her off. It will be interesting to see what it might be like in there in July and August - let's hope she takes on some staff. The food was good and excellent value though. It was time for Renée's MOT so we dropped her off at the testing station and went for a walk. Cathy was quite convinced that she would fail the MOT, the car is 21 years old, after all, and four years ago, there were a few "avises" - suggested work to be done, though not obligatory. Just as, rather unsurprisingly, it started to rain, we went back to see what the damage was. Hurrah - she had passed with absolutely no work needing to be done!
We drove to Collette's lovely house where we were happily assaulted by her two friendly dogs, and I was impressed by what she and her husband Ron have there. There is the main house they live in, then another little house behind it, a huge brick building where Ron has his forge and also a large barn. Their garden is beautifully kept and they have a few chickens - it's obviously the done thing! From there, we followed Collette to the house of the lady who will be looking after Renée until Cathy's next visit. Sue lives right next door to her estranged husband in a beautiful house in a tiny village. It used to be an apple orchard and there are still loads of apple trees although she doesn't harvest them any more. The place is up for sale at the moment but has been so for three years with no movement at all. The property market in France just isn't good at the moment. With Renée happily installed in the huge (but very dry) barn, Collette drove us back to Magnac for our final evening.

We went for another constitutional round the village, but in the reverse direction to our usual one, then back to the house for a huge dinner of pasta with lentil and vegetable sauce, most of a baguette and some proper "foreign crisps"! Then it was back to l'Escapade, this time to meet Alison and Tony. Alison looks after Cathy's house between visits and sorts it out before and after the other guests who stay there a few times a year. It was another fairly riotous evening with very entertaining chat, more wine and lots of laughter. In the end, we had to admit that our last evening was over and we headed out for one more attempt at meteor-spotting (the Lyrid meteor shower was meant to be around now) but even though the night was clear and there were plenty of stars to be seen, we still didn't see any shooting stars.

Wed 25th April - We got up earlier than any other day of the holiday and set about the final clear up of the house. Recycling went down to the bins by the river. We cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, sorted the floors (OK, Cathy did that!) and packed up. The lovely Collette came to pick us up and drove us to the airport. We were rather earlier than usual but passed the time with a delicious scrambled egg and toast combo from the newly opened restaurant upstairs at the airport. After the usual 45 minute wait in the world's most boring departure lounge we were off and heading for equally rainy Stansted. Our lift arrived, took us back to the car, we aquaplaned most of the way down the M11 and the M25 and then we were home. Booo. All over. It was lovely, as always and we're already planning a return trip.

All my photos can be found HERE.

PS - Re the huge house for sale in l'Isle Jourdain, we'd estimated an asking price of between £180,000 and £270,000. When we finally found the listing we discovered we were a bit out. It was on the market for £535,000 but did include a mill and an ancient fort as well as the four massive buildings on the island and an associated 2000 acres of land on a fishing lake 2km away. Don't think we'll be putting an offer in!

Blue skies and the blues

After nearly three years, I finally made it back to lovely Magnac-Laval and Cathy's gorgeous holiday home (l'Etoile de Mer).

We set off from Hove at 7pm Friday evening, got the 9pm shuttle and commenced the long drive down to the Limousin. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I'm ashamed to say I nodded off rather a lot and Cathy did the vast majority of the 7hr 45 min drive. I think I only took over for about the last 2 hours! Being the last weekend in July, the big holiday getaway had started for the French so what is normally a practically deserted overnight drive, was more like mid-afternoon on the M25!

But just as dawn broke at shortly before 6am we pulled up outside the little house in the silence of the village. We unpacked as quietly as we could and then hit the sack for about 5 hours. We couldn't bear to waste any more of the holiday asleep though and were up and about by midday.

We headed to the local supermarket to stock up on the essentials for the weekend - wine, beer, cheese, vegetables etc and then wandered back to grab croissants and a baguette for later.  Imagine our surprise to find the little boulangerie shut on a Saturday afternoon for the first time we'd ever known. Fortunately, when it's shut, the other one about ten yards away and with bread from the same baker is open and they were happy to fulfil our brunch order! We spent the afternoon wandering around the village, catching up on events. Cathy had been there in May but because I'd been away for so long, I was interested to see what had changed. Some of the streets have been newly cobbled - well, cobbled down each edge and tarmac in the middle. A couple of roads have been blocked to traffic giving the tabac the opportunity to put tables and chairs outside for the first time. The council have also put up lots of wooden structures full of beautiful flowers so the place is looking very pretty (or rather, prettier than it already did). There's definitely more of a buzz in the village than there used to be - a combination of the influx of holiday-home owners (mostly Brits) and the fact that the bars now organise more events in the evenings to pull in customers.

Saturday evening brought the main event of the weekend - music by blues guitarist/singer Dave Thomas at L'Escapade bar in the village square. He's been playing for over 40 years and is a very well-respected musician in the UK and the USA but I'm guessing barely heard of in France. A good friend of his, Collette, a South African lady who Cathy knows well, had organised an 8-date tour around the Limousin for him and Saturday was only the second night. A good crowd had turned out on a beautiful balmy evening. Food and wine were flowing and once Dave got started, there was no stopping him. He's a fantastic musician and whilst I won't pretend that blues is my favourite genre, he put on a great show with a mixture of his own songs and covers, interspersed with little stories from his years as an entertainer. Collette and her husband Ron came to join us at our table, along with Bonnie, Dave's partner, an absolutely lovely lady. The evening flew by in a whirlwind of chat, drinks and a lot of laughing (not at the music, I hasten to add). At about half past midnight, most people headed off but we went into the bar just to settle our bill, only to start chatting to two girls we'd never seen before, Mel from Dubai and Joanne who lives just round the corner from the bar! Mel had to head home but Joanne invited us back to hers where we met her disturbingly silent French ex-husband who was babysitting and we drank some Pineau. We finally rolled home at 2.20am, knackered!!!

Sunday started as all Sunday should - with croissants beurres from the correct boulangerie on the corner! Then we hit the road. First was a splendid plant nursery/teashop in a tiny village where we drank beautifully presented teas and coffees and heard all about the incredibly early crop of soft fruits in France and were presented with a gigantic bag of cooking pears for free, because the owner had a glut of them and couldn't bear to see them go to waste! Then we moved on to the Lac de Mondon, a regular haunt. It's either a reservoir or a man-made lake (I can never remember which) near Cromac. It has a large grassy area, perfect for lazing in the sun and eating a picnic of baguette and Emmenthal, with lashings of greasy foreign crisps (as they are always referred to). From there we headed to Jouac, where Dave Thomas was playing again during the afternoon. We arrived at about 4 and he'd been on for about 3 hours already but he didn't quit til 6pm! He was very well received again. Despite our over-indulgence the night before, I somehow managed to down a large beer at about 5pm (thanks for driving, Cathy!) We dragged ourselves away from the fun to head home to make chick pea stew and get ready for a firework display we'd seen advertised, due to start at 11pm in a nearby village. Dinner duly scoffed, off we went to Dompierre les Eglises where we've been many times before and have even seen fireworks there in the past. We arrived about 10.45pm to a completely deserted village, not a soul to be seen, the huge number of cars that usually accompanies such an event conspicuous in their absence. Baffled, we drove from one end of the village to the other but nothing. Somewhat confused, we thought that just maybe we'd got the wrong village as there's another with a rather similar name. We shot off to the other village and arrived just a few minutes before 11pm but if anything it was quieter than the first. Bum! There was nothing left to do but head home. We were, however, quite determined to find out if we'd imagined the whole thing and we could remember where we'd seen the poster advertising it - on the outdoor noticeboard of the local supermarket. So at 11.30pm there we were, in a deserted supermarket carpark, headlights on full, staring at the poster which did indeed say "Fireworks - 23h - Sunday - Dompierre les Eglises". So at least we hadn't made it up. Just as we were about to pull away, headlights appeared behind us. Uh-oh, THE FUZZ! Or rather, the young gendarmes. Oops. Cathy looked like a rabbit caught in, well, caught in the headlights and I got out of the car to face the music. They didn't actually say anything, just looked expectantly at me. "Alors, je peux expliquer" I began. But could I? In French which, I hasten to add, I hadn't really spoken for the best part of three years! About seven minutes later, they seemed slightly confused but placated - further confused no doubt by my having said "Nous avons cherché le, um, le poster pour les feu d'artifices y esta aqui". Yeah, great, Em. Bad French followed by pointless Spanish. Suffice to say, they probably couldn't face the paperwork of booking in two rather tired foreigners and let us go. Rather relieved but very amused, we drove home for a well-deserved cuppa and a sleep.

Monday morning dawned, yet again, bright and warm. We'd heard that the previous two weeks had been miserable and wet yet so far we'd been blessed with blazing sun and cloudless skies. A quick trip to the décheterie (the tip} to dump a few things but also to pick up a bit of free wood, was followed by a drive to Bellac, the nearest main town where we had a slow but tasty lunch at the Café Le Pont de la Pierre, a cute little bar/restaurant by the 13th century stone bridge at the bottom of the city. The British owners had taken on some new staff - a couple of French teenagers and one British girl. We got the impression that it was the first day for all of them as they were having serious teething problems. No-one came to our table for about 15 minutes and when the waitress did, we asked for a menu and she headed off never to be seen again! Still, all was well in the end and we commenced the very steep climb to the top of the town to deliver a large bag of cat food to the cat sanctuary. That makes it sound more formal than it is. It's a small piece of land with some handmade cat houses with bedding etc. There are no staff, no office, just a shed for the food. Having delivered the food, we descended again and finally managed a game of Poohsticks (which I won - hurrah)! We spent another lazy afternoon on the shores of a lake - this time it was Lac Freadour, part of the Lac St Pardoux area. We did some murder mystery plotting, a bit of snoozing and watched some people take a very refreshing dip in the lake. It made me wish I'd remembered my swimming costume! 

We headed back to the house late afternoon and attempted to have a little cycle round the village. Sadly, our attempts were scuppered by the fact that the one of the two bikes at the house is a men's bike. Not that I have a problem with a crossbar (!) but the saddle turned out to be jammed at a height that made it absolutely impossible for me to sit on the bike and reach the ground, even with only one leg. Cycling not being one of my best talents, we decided it was safer to walk! Our evening perambulate was followed by a trip over to Chez Chaumet, a tiny hamlet just past Dompierre Les Eglises where we visited the beautiful holiday home of Mel, the girl from Dubai we'd met on Saturday evening. She has the most amazing house with a glorious view - it's almost illegal that it's only used for 2 months every summer when she and her 3 kids come over to stay there from Dubai! We had a lovely evening chatting on the verandah (Cathy to Mel about owning property abroad and me to her 10 year old son about Star Wars Lego - go figure!) We headed home to a late dinner to use up the contents of the fridge and took a last look up at the stars from the roof terrace.

Tuesday had rolled around far too fast and it was time to pack up and leave. We met up one final time with Bonnie for a quick coffee in the local tabac while Dave was being interviewed for Radio Magnac Laval but the interview hadn't finished before it was time for us to leave so we didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Dave (or to Colette who was interpreting for him!) The seven-hour drive back to Calais was uneventful, though we did realise that on the way here we'd actually been on the inner peripherique instead of the outer (the equivalent of having been on the North Circular instead of the M25) which explains why we had actually driven through a part of Paris city centre on the way down! Still, after a ridiculous detour in the final stage of the journey, which added about 12 miles and nearly half an hour to our arrival at the Shuttle, we grabbed a case of ridiculously cheap wine each at Cité Europe and boarded the train.

As usual, I had a glorious time in a beautiful part of the world and with lovely company. Thanks Cathy and a la prochaine, l'Etoile de Mer.

The photos of our little trip can be found HERE.