Relief

The Rhône level -pretty low

A bit more from yesterday. Well after a snooze in front of the cyclists speeding down into Valence we went to take back and borrow books up in the vieux village.









We could see murk gathering in the distance and slight rumblings but it was progressing at a snail’s pace. It still hadn’t really materialised by the time we went to bed and we stood Jean de Florette like on the terrace hurling abuse at the Gods. Then at 12.30 there was lightning all round and even a crack of thunder. Not that this put off the choral karaoke rising from somewhere down in the vines. But it is the Belgians’ birthday weekend so we forgive them. And then the real deal! Flashes, cracks, drum rolls and even some rain. This shut them up.

Today all is fresh, cooler, not humid. We went to Ste C. Market with a spring in our step. Sat In The Sun at the café, briefly shaded by Messrs Brake fr. on a secret delivery mission. We think it might only have been sugar and condiments.









Laden with produce for, oh, at least three days, we staggered back to the car. Adrian had to have a watermelon but when it came to pay, consternation...no wallet. Scramble in the shopping bag revealed nothing, panic! He went back to the car with the spoils, I retraced our steps round the stalls and café. And at the very last one, producer of organic fruits, I asked and was rewarded. The lady had tried to find us but failed. Waving my prize triumphantly at the ashen faced returning Adrian, we breathed another sigh of relief.

Then on our way back across the plain it was too good not to stop for a walk.

The sky really is this blue today.

 There’s a straight track across between the Cairanne and Rasteau vines. As we parked under a tree a German suddenly appeared from his car brandishing a leaflet and asking for directions to a vineyard! He was miles off track but didn’t take my advice to turn back to Cairanne.

We just walked into the horizon amid butterflies, grasshoppers and lemming like cicadas who hurl themselves from trees right into your face.

Male Bush Cricket

Then back again to the shady car and home to unpack. Still not seen any beeaters, which is unusual.