Overfaced

12 August

Last day. Campanile St Nazaire was very comfortable but it's in such a hidden away out of town commercial estate that we were wary of heading off and not finding our way back! It has happened before... So we gritted our teeth and ate in their OK but blandish restaurant. It's really not bad. But we had masses of time ahead of us today so there was no hurry to leave. Adrian had a lighthouse to bag near Muzillac and we tootled off there across the marshes and estuaries.

But Brittany is BUSY at this time of the year - traffic jams, motor homes, etc etc.  The lighthouse Pen Lan  is at the end of a peninsula where the BCBG seem to vacation. However, there are still chaps with huge shrimping nets wading out and mussel boats chugging in.




Somehow we managed to miss breakfast again so down by yet another pretty headland, this time an oyster producing port, we indulged in luncheon. Our reason being that the favourite restaurant in Roscoff closes on Wednesdays so all we were planning for supper was crêpes. Some hours later we motored into the environs of Roscoff in search of a suitable crêperie (one had been identified earlier as being THE PLACE TO EAT). It had clouded over and a chill wind was blowing. We felt underdressed in summer garb. A woman was seen in boots and coat... Eventually found the crêperie on the outskirts of next-door Santec – Fermé le Mercredi! What is it with Roscoff and Wednesdays? We had a good six hours before we were even due to queue at the port. Gloom. Roscoff is a pretty place and we are fond of it but in August it is not the best. People are on holiday damn them. Then the Gods smiled. As we were pottering about the shops looking for the elusive Héron and Héron lighthouse posters we noticed that a light was on in Surcouf (the restaurant of choice). Could it be? Yes, it could. They were open despite it being a Wednesday. Much hovering later we managed to poke our heads round the door and book a table for 6.30. Of course this meant forcing down our third big meal in 24 hours but it was no contest between that and a crêpe. Delicious as always. There was a thunderstorm in the middle of our meal but fortunately no loss of power to spoil the cooking.

We managed to string it out until 8.15 when we shivered our way back to the car and unearthed jeans and jumpers before joining the UK bound convoy at the port. Good to see that the fish trade is healthy.
Arrived Plymouth in pouring rain at 6.30 and are now unpacking and catching up on The Archers.

Until next time....

Sad and funny

11 August

Our first stop today was just north of Limoges and not one we had planned. But we spotted road signs to a place we'd heard of from accounts in books and research we'd subsequently done. Oradour sur Glane, a village virtually obliterated by a troop of Waffen SS in June 1944. They massacred pretty much the whole population - some 650 people, of which nearly one third were children. Many were burned alive in the buildings. Then they completely destroyed everything in the place. The devastated village is now preserved as it was left and a memorial centre allows access to the ruined site. I will write it up later for Off Piste.

Somewhat somberly we continued on in search of a late breakfast. We'd been in Oradour for two hours but it seemed no time at all.

And here I will name and shame! In a town called Charroux we saw a bar with a blackboard offering sandwiches and as it was nearly 12 by this time we decided to skip breakfast and go straight for lunch. Man appears, I ask what sandwiches they do, he looks blank and mutters jambon fromage in less than convincing French. Then says pain complet. This means wholemeal but in France this is usually a thick artisan rustic loaf, not that awful English cardboard, so we said OK. I suddenly had a premonition of what was to come...and it did. Two baskets of sliced bread cut into quarters filled with packet cheese and ham!! Worse than anything you'd ever get on old British Rail. And it cost us 12 euros with the two coffees. Bloke was obviously English, couldn't speak any meaningful French, and what on earth he was doing there defeats us. We saw a laminated  menu card that clearly offered baguettes with all sorts of fillings but he saw fit to serve us Hovis and sliced Gruyere! The Bar de l'Abbaye is the name. AVOID IT

Anyway, many hours later we were within sight of our evening destination, the Campanile in a trading estate on the outskirts of St Nazaire. And within sight we remained for an hour in the queue to cross the elegant bridge. Because, and here is a tale well-known to UK road users, when they built this vastly expensive and cutting edge wonder of the known world, they only put three lanes across it instead of four. This means that in one direction there can only be single file traffic, while the oncoming use two. At rush hour it is the inbound traffic from the south that gets the short straw. And French drivers don't like queuing. They push and shove, drive down the hard shoulder, zip off at one slip road only to reappear at the next one up in order to gain a couple of cars' lengths. All the while we are being funnelled and merged into the solitary available lane. We eventually found the hotel and are ensconced ready for the final leg tomorrow.

Brive

10 August

As we were in Mèze it made sense to use the free motorway up through the Causses part of the way. It is an exciting piece of engineering that swoops between rocky cliffs and across the Millau Viaduct.

Worth every euro!
We got off at the next junction and went on  to Rodez for coffee. Strange place- it's on a hill and you seem to drive for ever in circles through grim concrete blocks before suddenly topping out in a smart square in front of the cathedral with an old town behind it. And the cathedral is truly spectacular. Red cut stone with the prettiest of bell towers outside and grand Gothic interior. The café was also interesting in its own way! The loos were complete with full length mirror opposite the toilet and a television showing a gangster movie!



Overnight stop in Brive- a very pukka town of mostly 19th century grand buildings and pedestrian streets and good shops. Even a branch of Desigual, which friend Jo in Mèze recently brought to my attention. She had a fabulous jacket from their Montpellier shop.Too dear for the likes of me though. And we eventually found somewhere open for supper after tramping the streets at least three times. Monday is not a good day to be starving in France. Delicious slices of magret de canard marinated in espelette pimento and served with a cream of cèpes sauce PLUS diced sautéed potatoes. Yum.

Bouzigues and Mèze

9 August

We started the homeward trek by going down to the Etang de Thau to visit friends in Mèze but being us, got there at an ungodly hour for a Sunday! To kill time we detoured to Bouzigues where serendipitously (is that a word?) the annual Oyster Festival was on. And at 9 am was still setting up, which meant we had a crowd-free wander down the beach.
It's 12 years since we last went to it and that was another heatwave year. But the air was fresh this time with a cooling breeze- such a relief after Sablet.

Got to  Mèze about 11 and had a nice lazy day sitting in a beach-side café with friends and their dogs, chatting about this and that, before supper along the quay. Not here! This was part of the oyster fest.

Last day

8 August

Packing, clearing, final wash. Then lunch at Rochegude. Adrian had T bone veal baked in truffle oil with celeriac purée in walnut oil. Me, just bream in provençale sauce but with a delicious pot of Puy lentils cooked in butter and strips of chorizo. So good!

Exotic serving wench with tattooed right arm and back poured my apéritif white wine then sloshed in what was left in the bottle for good measure. Saved ordering wine with the meal!














Pudding of lunch was a glace artisanale from Crestet. A mere 25 kilometre ride from Rochegude! But we got talking to the maître glacier and discovered he'd been on the 10k fun run from Sablet to Sablet via Chevalongue this morning. I mean, WHAT! in these temperatures. Anyway he won a bottle of wine and so did his wife.

Here is the beautiful restored front façade.

Tomorrow we head off for Mèze for the night then back up to Roscoff via Brive and St Nazaire. Home Thursday breakfast.

City break

7 August

1AM- no point trying to sleep as it's the annual Fête (worse than...). Pounding bass and shrieking folk. So I might as well put the insomnia to good use and catch up on the day's doings-well actually two days.

Yesterday we went down to Marseille at dear Anne's generous invitation to celebrate her birthday. It was blisteringly hot here and not much less so there. Before we met up with her at the smart quayside hotel, Adrian and I tramped up to the Pharo park and then to the Catalans beach area in search of lunch. Found a decent moules frites and sat drippng inside the brasserie rather than on the oven -like pavement.

With incredible good timing we got back to the hotel just as Anne was arriving. Once refreshed we decided that a trip round the bay would he just the thing to cool us down. There's a ferry service that takes passengers to the islands off the coast. Not far, just an hour there and back, and it goes via the famous Château d'If of Monte Cristo fame. Good views of Marseille from the sea.

Back on land it was time for Campari and Orange and on the way we went under this amazing canopy with a reflective ceiling. It's so weird to see people walking upside down.








And then more food! We were lucky enough to spot a Lebanese restaurant that looked proper - not pretend. And so it was. Really lovely  and a good (expensive!) bottle of Bekhar Valley red. Finally three coffees and two cointreaux at a bar, which cost almost as much as the meal! My God.

Did not sleep well despite utter luxury so this morning I was somewhat lack lustre. Never mind, we did more street wandering and admired
the fine Opera, Stock Exchange and Hotel de Ville before succumbing to yet more moules frites (them, not me!)
It got even hotter... we left Anne to get her Eurostar and hit the A7 back home. Less than two hours later we were here, admiring the repair François had done to our front façade in our absence.  Lots more pix on flickr and a special Marseille album with spellng mistake!

Finished

5 August

Final coat of facade was done this morning with three of them at it this time. It's lovely. And finished two days early - wow!
Just as well because the fête is already sprouting up on the place. A churros stall is there selling extruded batter fritters (I confess to rather liking these!) and attractions of a fairground nature are massing for the attack on the outskirts of the village.

We have our terrace back properly now, if only for the last few days. There is the dilemma of what to do with the oleanders. Poor things, they responded so well to love and attention and are now just about to burst into flower. Which, of course, we won't see!

Thunderclap

4 August

Grey morning with dollops of rain. We are lacking energy so mooched round Intermarché for milk and diedel- dirt cheap at 1.112 a litre! The diesel that is; think the milk is about 1.07. Builders are dashing in and out but not lingering. Non forecast thunder suddnly rumbled as we left for a home- cooked lunch over in Bouchet to the north. As you can see it as a well-balanced meal! Mushrooms were delicious, stuffed with fromage frais and chorizo then gratineéd. Pity we didn't come tomorrow for the moules frites, hut then really that is a seaside dish. There will be other opportnities on the way home.

Bouchet is a quiet little village in nowheresville, which suits us fine. The auberge has a big beamed verandah overlooking the bridge,  set with tables and chairs. Nothing fancy. There is a proper dinng room inside but that's a winter place. We prefer to sit outside and watch the world go by (not much of it), and today even a little red squirrel in the park across the way.
Just the place to while away an hour or s as the thunder rumbled half-heartedly round about. It was over by the time we left.

There's an old abbey in the centre but that's about it. Not a major tourist destination.

We returned home via the Mathilde Chocolate Emporium n Tulette and bought goodies for our hosts in Mèze. Adrian is in his element there as free samples are plentiful!

Waterland

2 August

Down to the Aygues by Cairanne for an explore. First revelation is that the bottled water Cristaline is from Ste Cécile and bottled right here! We stumbled upon it by simply turning left at the bridge. Busy busy even on a Sunday with lorries parkd up and fork lifts scuttling about.

On the other side of the bridge we found a track that let onto the riverbed. Almost entirely dry at this time of the year with occasional pools and streams that come and go . It is odd to think this vast expanse can, in winter, be a raging torrent. Cairanne sits well atop the banks out of danger.







The beeeaters were softly gurgling in the dead branches, a couple of kites floated over., Adrian spotted a kingfisher. And all underfoot are clumps of  plants thriving on the damp gravel. Too many to even try to identify. I can just about recognise evening primrose and willow and possibly loosestrife. Then on the verges creeping tiny convulvulus, yellow daisy like things, possible chicory, and something that looks like a mini pinky mauve scabious. We had our first blackberries the other day but wild figs are unripe still.

Back home the terrace is still inviting. Our builders are exemplary and clean up when they leave. Mme Vrastor expressed amazement that they had come to work on a Saturday morning! Even by French standards of hard work this is unusual. We suspect it is the awful deadline of the annual fête next weekend that is spurring them on to finish!

Tonight- The Woman in Gold at Florian cinema with German friends.

August

1 August

It rained, but undeterred, the dynamic duo were here by 7.20 and pumping layer two of the render. We left them to it and went to market. Ste Cécile is having a Rosé festival tomorrow complete with the election of the Rosé Queen! We have a nomination... Jo! Personally, not fond of pink wine but it makes for picturesque decorations.

More  in Off piste - both blog and flickr album