Pink rocks

A lovely day. Not hot but sunny. First we had breakfast in Lannion. We had the morning available so headed north to the pink granite coast above Perros Guirec where parts of A very Long Engagement were filmed.

We’ve been before and it’s fascinating. Huge sculpted rocks bump up against houses and the lighthouse.

It’s all Conservatoire du Littoral land now, so protected.

Birds galore. Runners ditto! And, after an hour or so, People...children, babies, families. Everyone seemed to be in a party of ten! I’ve never understood this desire to holiday en masse with grandparents, siblings and friends. Nightmare.

 Neverthless there were quiet places to look and listen.

Big lifeboat too.

Thinking we had plenty of time, we pottered towards Roscoff via St Michel en Grève where we spent a week one Easter. It sits on an enormous sandy bay.  Just time for a token stroll on the sand.








Then to Roscoff where we thought we’d have some crêpes before boarding. Big mistake. There was not a single parking spot in the whole town and we know it well enough to try some hidden streets. Blimey it was simply bursting at the seams with folk. Awful. We have vowed never ever to travel on this week again. Perfect storm of two public holidays and school hols. So once again foodless! We’ll have to partake of Brittany Ferries finest. It’s quite good actually.

On board. Very noisy group of men playing a card game and shouting abruptly at some winning hand or other. A large group of French of a certain age on a jolly. They seem fairly educated! One man got out his accordion and we feared the worst but in fact he played well, the sort of Breton folksy stuff that used to wake us up on the overnight crossings.

Home by 10.30.pouring rain this side of the Channel!

Look back at Angers

Yesterday was Hot. After we’d recovered from the journey it was time to tramp the streets in search of sustenance. Bank holiday eve. And a Monday to boot... City crowded. Streets torn up for the installation of a new tram bridge right in front of the hotel. We seem to attract civic improvements.

But after a fruitless search round the port we made the sensible decision to head up the hill into the centre. There were loads of bars full of young things and families but not much evidence of food - at least until we got our eye in.







We found a pizza place and had a couple of filling good ones so that was OK. To be honest I think we were a bit too early and on our way back to the hotel we found a couple of nice looking places open.

Angers is a fine vibrant city with elegant buildings, wizzo château, cathedral, rivers, etc.

And this morning we got up and out by 7.15. Not deliberately but we were awake. The city was quiet and our departure was seamless despite deviation signs. Ah but it is 8 Mai, public holiday par excellence, absolutely zilch open in any village or town we passed through. We needed breakfast! Eventually we landed in Janzé at 8.50.

Walked up and down looking for a bar and pâtisserie showing signs of life. It’s a biggish place so surely something! As we returned gloomily to the car a man approached us and said ‘vous cherchez  quelque chose?’ It was that obvious! ‘Oui’ says I ‘un bar et une pâtisserie.’ Man gestures to the bar behind us and says it will be open in ten minutes. And there is a bakers round the corner up in the square. There was. Two in fact. So armed with croissants we made our way back. The clock chimed nine as we approached and out of the bar sprang a group of burly blokes setting out pink plastic chairs. They must have been lurking about waiting for the opening time! Our saviour was there too and greeted us with satisfaction.

Then a fast run up via Rennes and we were in Paimpol for lunch. Stopping first on a headland to try to spot an elusive lighthouse way out at sea. Hollow laugh. Today was grey and misty over the coast. And chilly to begin with. I did see a gannet though.

Paimpol was heaving but we drove down to the end of the port into the working bit and left the car. And miracle of miracles the restaurant I had fingered was actually open and had one unbooked table inside! Too chill yet to sit out. Bit dearer  than we would have liked, but very nice seafood shack sort of place.

It had warmed up by the time we left and we had a pleasant stroll round the port ever on the look out for Héron and Héron! No joy apart from a couple of posters he already has.

The afternoon was spent tootling round the top end of the peninsula in and out of little ports.

Masses of cars parked at the embarcation place for the Ile de Bréhat so we gave that a miss. Now in Ibis Guincamp, the sun is back but not exactly warm. It might rain...

Up, up and away

Well after last night’s starvation and mega thunderstorm it was a strange misty morning at 6.30. The Corrèze was the colour of melted milk chocolate. Anyway we knew we were in for scorccio later so dressed accordingly and drove away from lovely Brive in search of Food. We stopped not far away in Objat and as we were parking up a giant surreal sphere appeared between two houses. Yikes! A hot air balloon taking off into the still misty air.

And then another, and another, all rising stealthily from a field behind the flour mill. Seven in total. Just the occasional whoosh of the burner. Magical. Everyone was smiling. I took far too many pictures. Some are on flickr as well as google. And we had a wonderful coffee with the butteriest of buttery croissants.

Then up into Limousin through rural pastureland, neat stone houses with steeply pitched scalloped stone tiled roofs. Trees all in blossom, wild laburnums, and bluebells on the banks. Hay has been cut already. The road took us through Pompadour. Oh yes, the Mme de P town. Now the home of one of France’s National Studs and Arab bloodstock centres.

Terribly picturesque. Horses obligingly going through their paces round the trotting track and eventing course.

Didn’t take us too long before we were in Poitou and leaving the rich dark soils of the centre for the warm creamy white of the Loire Valley. Stopped off the road by an 18th century windmill high above the plain and ate our delicious quiche/flatbread things, previously obtained from the buttery croissant bakery.
It was very hot now. Desperately seeking shade!











And down through Loudun onto the Loire levée at Saumur and along to St Mathurin for a drink. Roadworks and all bars closed, but we spotted one on the opposite bank so zoomed across the bridge. Young folk in swimwear on the sandy banks! Must be a Bank Holiday. River like a millpond. And now we are in Angers Ibis by the château which is jolly nice. Hopefully somewhere will provide supper even though it is Monday and holidays...29 degrees.

Room with a view

We are in Brive in a proper Ibis by the river. Car bottom right!
Walking distance  to a crêperie that I have identified as being open on Sunday evening. It had better be! *Weather warm and sunny.
We left home at 7.45 stopping at the bakery to say goodbye to Mme Moulin and get a couple of fougasse for lunch. Then away past Caderousse to the other side of the Rhône and through the Gard up into the wilds of Lozère.
*it wasn’t...closed for a week from today 😿


A late café and croissants at a place called le Collet de Dèze in the mountains. Exhorbitant grand crème at 3.30 each but they were good and we sat in sun, for once not underdressed for the hills.

Adrian almost trod on this beauty. A giant  emperor moth, lost and disorientated in the sun. We picked it up and tried to put it in a tree but it was having nothing of it and fluttered about drunkenly across the road. I hardly dared look! But eventually it seemed to reset its radar and started circling upwards out of harm’s way across the rooftops.
The rest of the drive was uneventful and through pretty pastureland. Cowslips, fields of dandelions and buttercups. Cattle, goats and kites.

Au revoir

Last trip to the market even though we needed only a garlic or two. And strawberries, of course. Took Deb and Gary as their car needs its MOT equivalent. Lovely and warm. Roses all out and pumping scent into the air. Mmm.

 I can do this!

The violas are bursting with blooms on the terrace. I’ll put them in the shade and hope it rains ...forecast says it will.
They smell divine.

Last night on my way upstaits I spotted this dear creature on the wall. It stayed motionless while I went to get camera and peered up to have its portrait taken. Then when I went down again had totally disappeared. Goodness knows where it hangs out.





Next post probably from Brive tomorrow evening.

Winding down

Sadly, only two more days. Packing more or less done, sheets washed, beds changed ready for return, vacuumed. The darling violas are at peak performance and will have to bloom unseen. They might last six weeks but that depends on the weather. A heat wave will do for them.
Yesterday we took Deb and Gary with us to Puyméras. Best faux filet ever there. The sun graced us with its presence!

Today it was a bit hazy but warm and went up behind Roaix for a last stroll. Not far, just down into the vines and olives with super views. Nightingales in profusion, invisible as always. Pretty flowers and butterflies.

Chaps were pruning new growth off the young vines and someone had already thinned the olives.
I should have snaffled some stems but they lookd a bit tough and the secateurs were in the car.

Figs by the old ruined farm. Not ripe yet of course. Bet they’ve gone before we get them.

Then home for salade composée on the terrace. We’ve overeaten a touch his week! And the Giro on live streaming via Équipe. For some inexplicable reason it’s starting in Jerusalem. Security nightmare.

Another day, another lunch

But first a morning trip to the étang. It was bright today but still a very nippy northerly as we walked the perimeter. Nightingales filling the air from every bush and tree. The little devils know you can’t spot them, so don’t even trouble to move! The water is now bright green with rushes and the only bird I spotted was a coot scuttling through.

In fact the main sign of life was frog based. Croaks from within the reeds and zillions of tadpoles in a watery channel alongside.

We sat and took it all in and marvelled at the amount of snow on Ventoux again. The blowers must be out in force up there.

Then to Châteauneuf for the plat du jour in a nice-looking caff on the main crossroads. Tables sheltered from the wind in warm sun. Good glass of red wine from the owner’s vineyard. Seemed promising. Ha! Well after about forty minutes we were getting restive. How long does it take to produce a simple onglet and frites? Eventually I volunteered myself  to enquire. The explanation was that the gas bottle had run out at a crucial chip frying moment and they had had to put on a new one! But food eventually came and was not bad and at least the ambience today was comfortable so we didn’t mind too much. Rather a high quotient of The Cousins at tables though. I decided there must be a boat in. Not Carnival cruises you understand but one of those behemoths from Viking.

On the way back we detoured via our folly. This is the building that for years we thought was the Vieux Télégraph of the famous vineyard. Fools. It is not. There’s even a signpost pointing to VT 2 km away,

But  anyway we return year after year to climb up and view the appellation. It has a rather grand appearance despite the breeze block and decrepit state and a lovely stairway up the outside onto the flat roof. Where the wind howled.

But as it sweeps over the feathery grasses it’s as if it was just smoothing them down, like unruly strands of hair.


Last stop was Vaison - the Communité des Communes Vaison Ventoux office - for our new Déchetterie pass. We can now dump rubbish at will.

Out to lunch

You know what they say about casting clouts and May. Well with good reason. 1st May today. Grey. Not warm. There’s one of those antique/junk events in the village with the usual mixture of old tools, zinc baths, china, glasses, 1930s furniture, bizarre books,  oh yes and the orange moulinex hairdryer that always comes along.

We’d been invited to join our German friends and their other two German friends for lunch in a reputed Bistrot de Pays. Table had been booked quite clearly for 12.30. Bound to sit us inside in this weather, we agreed. You can see where this is going... not so fast, it gets worse. We arrived betimes and presented ourselves. There was a big table all laid up inside. But the owner looked puzzled when our name was given. ‘Oh no, you are booked for 13.30, I have no spare table inside. You can eat outside if you wish or come back later!’ Jen pleaded in vain. She had heard Gérard say 12.30, how could there be a mistake?






The other friends were imminent. They are chilly mortals and would not want to eat out in the cold. To be frank nor did we, but did not want to disappoint. Anyway after much deliberation we squashed ourselves as near to the wall as we could out of the wind, got cushions and spare jackets from our cars and stoically huddled round the table. The waitress took pity and went inside to find shawls and rugs for our shoulders. It was cold, it rained but we had a good laugh. I would have said ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ but that might have been a bit of a Basil Fawlty moment!

Now we are home and it really is raining and grey, and breezy. Must get a warm jumper!