In the wake of The Orient Express!

So - back to civilisation! We had a ferry booked from Venice, and wanted a route that cleared Paris by a long way, and yet kept us out of Switzerland; so we stayed the night in Dunkerque and then drove to Troyes. We got ourselves automatically checked in there just as the crucial World Cup England-Slovenia match started. Next day we drove to Chambery - being the last Premiere Classe before Italy! En route we came off the autoroute for diesel and wine at Nuits St George! In Chambery it was very hot! We were getting psyched up for the next day's drive. We had never before needed to traverse the Alps as we were usually down on the Mediterranean coast. This time the advice was to go through the Frejus tunnel (35 Euros and 13km) - but with claustrophobic and vertigo tendencies this was daunting. In the car park that morning a Welsh couple asked where we were off to, and described their journey the previous day - four and a half hours coming over the mountains. Suddenly the tunnel seemed a very good idea. In fact it was a doddle! It has just one carriageway in each direction - both in the same bore, but there was hardly any traffic, and we emerged into Italy remarkably calm. We had a booking at a bargain hotel (The Old Convent) in the northern suburbs of Milan - close to the autostrada. It was difficult to find without a printed map, but after some enquiries we did, and wondered what we had done. A pretty building but with no obvious entrance, and some passionate sound effects coming from an open bedroom window! Eventually someone appeared and

gave us a big if tatty room. We had a strange afternoon and evening there - starting with a walk along the main road in 34 degrees, then time in the hotel's garden with some nice frizzante and a map of Northern Italy. The restaurant owner was Brazilian and there was a World Cup match going on inside. He brought us a plate of free goodies from the buffet he had laid on, so we didn't need more to eat. Back in the room we were reminded of one of the delights of Italy - the strange electric sockets! So no laptop amusement for us - just Berlasconi TV!

Next day was a Saturday - with beautiful weather and the schools just finished. This made the onward drive past Milan and towards Venice very hairy indeed, and we were glad we had decided not to go all the way there for our three days of camping - but to Lake Garda. We spent our third night of marriage camping beside the Lake in 1985, and were rained out then. Fortunately we can't remember where. This time we did our research and decided on Sirmione, and found one of the three campsites we had identified. It turned out to be quite expensive at 32 Euros per night; but is beautifully located with its long boundary on the lakeside promenade, had more space per tent than those we visited last year and an excellent pool - much needed in very hot weather! What we could not find, however, was internet access - other than very occasionally in a local bar/restaurant. We did some cycling in the area - including going into the historic town, with its palace and lemon stalls.

Full of tourists, of course!

We had three delightful suppers in the two restaurants nearest to the campsite, and sank a few frizzantes - including during the World Cup match between England and Germany. (The bar crowd was somewhat partisan for that one - and not pro-England!)

During our last night there was a sudden dramatic thunderstorm, but we had plenty of time the next morning for drying and de-camping. Alain had sent an SMS to say that Greece was on strike, so we thought we should get early to the port in Venice in case of cancellation, so - despite a little navigational flap about Verona - we went straight there, saw the ship was there, and began a very long wait for boarding. The ship was very full, it was very hot, and tempers all around were getting frayed. We had a chat with a Brit and his Dutch wife who were on their final emigrating drive to the Pelopenese - with dog. The last straw for many passengers with cars was being made to comply with the "driver only on the car deck" rule, with others struggling up the escalators with luggage. We forgave ANEK, however, when we saw our cabin - we had been upgraded to a large and comfortable outside one within the WiFi range. Our 38 hour cruise was uneventful, with plenty of sunbathing. Amongst the passengers was a large group of German professional party organisers, who hung their banner. We hoped they were only going to Corfu or Igonoumetsia, but they weren't!

When we arrived in Patras there was utter chaos with getting vehicles off the ship. Two private cars were parked on the raised ramp, and the drivers were nowhere to be seen (One Pole, one aged German). We waited for an age in a stairwell with some cold air, and met a couple who were on their way to our neighbouring town of Kandanos. With all day to get to Piraeus we stopped several times - most significantly in our usual line of seaside tavernas at Aspro Pyrgos - where we had our first Amstel. 

A hot afternoon in Piraeus - including use there of the port's free WiFi, and time in the nearest kafenion. The voyage overnight was on the Elyros - which is new but has a horrible enlosed and smoke-ridden public area, but we had a good cabin again, a good meal and quiet voyage. Next morning we got off emarkably easily and were in Crete! After the killing of time by the sea, and the trips round the three supermarkets, we drove down via the tunnel and arrived in Paleo. (July 2nd)

Green and Pleasant Land- June 1st to 22nd

A straightforward crossing from Dunkirk – we sailed through the controls, were boarded efficiently and found a half-empty boat. We were still having trouble accepting that the best route to Brighton is to go all the way up to the M25, round it and down the M23; so we compromised and went through Crowborough – a big mistake as we struck drastic road works and ended up on tiny roads to extricate ourselves, but we still got to Brighton with time to go round the ASDA at the Marina, and get our first real ale. We had three nights booked at our favourite hotel and by getting in there early and quoting previous visits we got an upgrade to the room we had last time. The sun shone, and we had a jolly stroll with fish and chips, and more real ale – leaving Chloe to revise for her final exam the next day.

We had a long-standing appointment for a service and MOT, or so we thought, so we did some fine tuning over parking restrictions and took Yvette for her check-up in Portslade. No record of the appointment! They did their best to help to help and we agreed to leave the car for the whole day (exactly what we wanted given parking arrangements in Brighton!) We then rode along the front in beautiful sunshine to look for the cafe where Monique works in the summer. She and Johnny are now regular winter residents in Corralejo (where he plays, and she is behind the bar, at Rock Island),  We found the cafe beside the boating lake in Hove, and to her amazement dropped in, staying quite a while to hear their news – especially about the boat they have just bought – and watching sailing tuition on the lake. She encouraged us to go and see J up at the Marina.

Later in the day Bob went back on the bike to get the car (ghastly price), and also received a message that the gig on Friday had been cancelled. So we abandoned plans for Dorset, and decided to stay a little longer in sunny Brighton. We met Chloe in the evening, and again the next day, when a large party of her house-mates, their Lithuanian friends, and parents assembled at The Fortune of War on the prom. Chloe tried to take us to eat at a Jamie Oliver-run place, but it was very full, so we went to a nice little Italian instead. Nor would there be room at the inn for Friday night, so we agreed to an offer to stay at a discretionary rate at the Holiday Inn, where both Charlie, and James’ partner work. So, on Ruth’s birthday there was Eggs Benedict at our hotel, then check-out and an interesting check-in at Holiday Inn. The receptionist asked if we were James’ parents – and wondering if the cheap deal would only apply if we were we sort of grunted – which was fine until she wanted to discuss the finer points of James’ home of Jersey! We were saved by the boyfriend himself, and it was a very nice room with a real bath!

We then cycled out to the Marina and met Chloe. During a drink at the Wetherspoons we saw Johnny of Corralejo and boat fame working away from one of the pontoons, so we went to see him and his boat – a fine vessel that will make its way to Fuerteventura in due course. Then we went to the Cafe Rouge for a lovely long lunch, and Chloe rode Ruth’s bike back to town while she took the bus!

Next day we were told that we couldn’t have a second night at the Holiday Inn, so we joined Chloe and friends at the house for a BBQ :- a real student job with folks only drinking their own booze, few seats and various drunken cavorting – some involving the paddling pool! We slept in a vacant bed and sloped out in the morning leaving a note!

Now we had five days with no fixed plans, so we decided to head for the Kennet and Avon Canal. The rain started soon after we left Brighton, but we managed to look at the canal at some vantage points near Pusey, and then went in search of a Sunday lunch in Devizes (Home of Wadworths 6X). That failed, as did the pub accommodation hunt, so we ended up at the Travelodge, which was a pretty good choice. We even managed a towpath bike ride out to pub for supper. On the second day – which was good in parts – we went to see the famous Caen Hill flight of 19 locks, which was restored through the 70’s and 80’s – in part through Ruth’s fund-raising efforts. It is now part of the thriving holiday run along the canal, and we lunched whilst watching (and helping) craft through.

The weather prospects, however, were bad, and we needed to find a place that would be interesting even on the rain; so next day we went to Bristol:- booked in to a cheapish hotel in Clifton. On cue, it rained all of the way there, and torrentially so in the city itself. We tucked Yvette away and did tourist things and shopping. The city is barely recognisable from when Ruth worked in St Philips in 1978/80, and we enjoyed the market, and the Commercial Rooms, and the water front. After two nights we went back to Bath and Bob cycled from there to Bradford-on-Avon on the towpath whilst Ruth drove there. The weather was very dodgy, but stayed dry for him. R even went to see the old home of the first husband!

After meeting up we went for a drink at one of the two very attractive canal-side pubs, and had fun with the Dick and Jane-themed menus and notices. Then we drove to the Gloucester Travelodge, and spent the night there, with some shopping (almost fully stocked by now) at just-opened stores in the quay area.

Friday was for sight-seeing! We had a drive round R’s ancestral area of Dursley/ Berkeley, the Forest of Dean (in honour of one of our heroes – playwright Dennis Potter) - and on to Symond’s Yat, which we treated fairly cursorily as we did not have the 3 sterling for the car park. What we did see was impressive, and the RSPB were out in force because of the peregrine falcons.

Finally we drove to Whitbourne in Herefordshire. Bob’s old friend Bill and his wife Julia live and farm on his family’s estate. The Hall featured a few months ago on TV in the UK as part of a “make-over” series – the issue being attempts by some the owners of the apartments into which it has been converted to make money for the upkeep. We were part of a huge family dinner that evening with all four daughters present, and next day helped with producing leaflets and notices for the next day’s Open Farm Sunday. On show would be their shorthorn beef cattle, Llewyn sheep, ponies used for Riding for the Disabled and the “Care Farming” project, in which vulnerable people get involved and supported in tasks with the land and animals. As we would be missing Sunday lunch Bill roasted some of their own beef for us on Saturday evening. On Sunday morning we helped with herding cattle and sheep as they were moved in readiness for the afternoon, and in setting up for teas in the cattle shed. Then we slipped away:- objective Suffolk!

It was a bit of a trek over to Lowestoft, and the weather held – just! We were to stay – as last year – at Britten House. After booking two nights we received an email to say there had been a mistake whereby the Monday was not available. They offered Sunday night in their special Mozart suite – with Monday at a neighbouring Band;B. The suite was luxurious – with a huge separate lounge, roll-top bath, four-poster bed and a sea view.

 We met Rose, Ray and Paul for dinner beside Oulton Broad. No18 was a perfectly acceptable alternative for the second night. We spent the day in Great Yarmouth, although the cycling was not too pleasant in the bitter wind. We were pleased to see that the Snails ride – very popular in Chloe’s youth – is still there, and we also went to see Auntie Kathy's grave - now with plaque.

 Before setting off South again we went to see the drastic works being done to cousin Ricky’s house. He was off-shore, but has bbviously been very busy, and is going to be an amazing home when finished.

Neil and Maggie once again put us up for three nights in Forest Hill, South London. We made good progress down the A12 and had time to visit IKEA at Lakeside. A disaster! We picked up the only wok that could not be put through the till, so after the traditional long queue we walked out almost empty-handed and fuming! But the sun was shining and we were soon on N and M’s terrace drinking white wine and putting the world to rights. Wednesday was Landlords Day! We visited the two properties and had some drinks with Pete and Baz – in part to discuss some jobs that they will be doing for us; and Thursday was Uptown Day. We took the train to London Bridge and in glorious sunshine visited Borough Market and some South Bank watering holes, before returning on a slow and crowded bus.

A strange thing happened that afternoon! We were near Charing Cross station when Bob's eyes met those of Jane T - who used to live in our street in Balham, and whose children went to Chloe's primary school. We had a good old chat in a card shop.

As last year we enjoyed a dinner with Neil, Maggie, Paul and Cheryl, and next day went down to see Josiane and Alastair in Rotherfield. They have been having some very bad times of late with health, bereavements and related business in France, relentless work, and now the second of two car problems caused by difficult neighbours. We stayed for dinner and overnight, but plans for country walks were thwarted by a flare-up of Bob's gout. Next day we went for a pub lunch with them, and then headed over to Hampshire.

The rationale for the whole British tour at this time was to be at the Diamond Wedding (60 years) of Ruth's parents. This took place at the now traditional home for family events - Uplands Hotel. We had decided the easiest option was for us to stay the nights before and after at the hotel. On Saturday it was quite crowded there, and we didn't need a meal. Next day there were 21 of us for lunch This was the happy couple, three daughters with partners, five grandchildren - two with partners, four great-grandsons under 7, and Mary and Iris, who had been bridesmaid and matron-of-honour respectively in 1950. We had picked Chloe up from a local station. We raced back in to the meal (our own space in the conservatory) just in time, with her journey having been seriously disrupted by the London-Brighton bike race. As well as the original photograph album, and trinkets brought by Mary, there was even a congratulatory card from Lizzie Windsor! (Alerted to the event by Ruth's sister Penny!)

After the "do" we stayed on and enjoyed the sunshine. Later in the evening we realised they had closed the whole building and we were the only people there. A "Shining" time, and we weren't even sure we would get breakfast! We did, and then drove back to Brighton for a cheap night at the Preston Park Travelodge. We met up with Chloe and Charlie for a pre-theatre dinner, and then the three of us went to see Spamalot on tour at the Theatre Royal. Seated in the Gods (or the Ashtray) we had a great time

Our last day was very hot again. We did some last-minute stocking up in Ashford, then took the 6 pm ferry back to Dunkerque. Yvette had done us proud with 869 UK miles.

"We will remember them"

It’s Tuesday – it must be Belgium!


We found it very expensive there, and were therefore rather restrained in eating out – not sampling local specialities, and on one occasion walking out of a restaurant when we saw the price of wine. It was in Bastogne that we began what became a week’s worth of war-related excursions, often surrounded by other Brits. There are several “museums” that are actually mostly selling artefacts, but the genuine one in an old convent is fascinating and we spent a couple of hours there. It includes video testimony from a range of people who were 19 years old in 1945 and experienced the Battle of the Bulge as combatants and civilians. There are also full size reconstructions of bombarded buildings, and a section of the forest – complete with gun smoke and loud explosions. We were interested in the real denouncement letters on display – particularly in the light of a conversation with Rainer about the culture of informing in Germany.

Later, in sunny weather we drove to La Roche en Ardennes, which is a beautiful town sitting in a river gorge, and next day drove to Amiens. (We were impressed by this poster, having suffered the canine deposits which blight Canarian life!)

The weather had broken overnight with dramatic thunder and lightning, so this was a fairly long day with heavy spray on the busy motorways. We had been researching campsites in the area with mobile homes, but at the one we went to on the Amiens ring road there was no room at the inn. We therefore did yet another night in a Premiere Classe with a meal at the Campanile, and used the free Wi-Fi to send emails to three other campsites to enquire about availability. The one that got in first was La Gandspette in Eperleques near St Omer. We drove up there on minor roads, passing through the battlefields of World War 1, and visiting some British and Commonwealth cemeteries. We passed near Thiepval and made a note to return. We had some trouble finding the campsite, but it was worth it:- spacious and in the grounds of a chateau, and the mobile home was well-equipped and warm! (It was very cold and miserable weather!) Clientele was almost entirely British (with a few Dutch).

From there we made excursions by car. First we went back to Thiepval, and visited both the excellent museum and the impressive monument to the missing. It was built after the First World War near the frontline of battles of the Somme, and lists all those declared missing. 300 unidentified British and 300 French are also sumbolically buried there. On our way there we had passed serious cyclists - first a few and then many more! It transpired that they were part of a "Big Battlefield Tour" in aid of the charity Help for Heroes. This was their lunch-time stop, so the car park held hundreds of bikes, and many supporting vehicles. Their tour had started in Portsmouth and would end in Dunkirk for the 70th anniversary of the evacuation. During our visit a service was held with a Scots bagpiper and visiting military dignitaries.

Later we toured round the area and - as a contrast to the many British and Commonwealth cemetries we saw the German one in Fricourt- a very chilling place where thousands are buried in three mass graves. (The Red Baron, Richthofen, had also been there until moved). It is carefully maintained - but without State help.

Near our campsite we saw signs to the "Blockhouse" at Eperleques, and on the Sunday we shelled out a high entry fee to go round it, but it was worth it! It is where early work on the V2 rockets took place, having been constructed with forced labour, until it was bombed by the RAF, arguably changing the entire course of the Second World War. The story is relayed by either an excellent bilingual guide or from multilingual listening posts around the site. Outside there is a launching ramp for the V1, a huge bomb crater and a train carriage used to transport prisoners.

On our last day - en route to Dunkerque - we visted Wormhout, where an atrocity of 1940 took place involving the shooting by the SS of a group of surrenderung soldiers in a barn. (Germany refused to prosecute the commanding officer!) The site has been only recently restored and a new memorial erected.

There was a bitter wind and regular rain all day. We went early to our Premiere Classe and kept warm. That evening we had our last French meal at the neighbouring Campanile, and in the car park were two WW2 vehicle, including a staff Humber, which were presumably going back to UK after the Dunkirk commemorations.

We were up early to catch the 8am ferry (cheaper!) to Dover, and had a very smooth crossing, enhanced by the free WiFi unknowingly furnished by a Danish trucking company!

(Not really) Bavaria and Belgium for Beginners

From Metz we embarked on a real adventure! Yvette had three new countries ahead. Ruth had never been into the Land of Merkel, and we had only a very poor scale atlas! But fear not – we were on our way to meet Archbishop Rainer of Franconia, (a land with no beer) and his two heirs in his Schloss in Karlstadt. First we had to survive the great Autobahn. This is not trivial! They may be toll-free, but the absence of maximum speed limit and service stations, together with a laissez-faire maintenance regime and said under-sized road map made for heavy use of the stress ball! On the outskirts of Frankfurt the inevitable navigation error happened. We realised, stopped at the only service station in 50 km squared and invested E6.95 in a German road atlas. This saved the day and we made it – seeing more of the B26 and Anshaffenburg than any German would probably desire, and with a 45 minute wait in a traffic queue in the allegedly delightful town of Laufach. The Archbishop came to meet us 5km out of Karlstadt in his blessed VW Transporter and led us to journey’s end.

Our social and touristic whirl began with a visit to a Heckenwirtschaft. This is an event that happens in Bavaria twice a year in many farms and vineyards. Many people cycle to them. The owners serve (and sell) their own produce to visitors seated on benches outside. We had our first introduction to Franconian wine – ideal with Wurst and cheese of many kinds, and indeed we sampled much more over three days! Later we were taken into the town centre and started to get a sense of its beauty. We went past the theatre just as the second interval in a three-act play was taking place. His Holiness used his influence to get us in to see the final act. By his own admission this was not the highest of German Kultur – more Brian Rix than Goethe – loss of trousers etc etc! Some subtlety of language may have eluded us, but we got the visuals, and felt very honoured – and speechless! We then spent far too long in a wine cellar working our way through a structured tasting of Franconian whites. Sylvaner best! Many too sweet (and allegedly aimed at North German tourists)!

Day Two started with great weather and a great German breakfast in the garden. Then to Würzburg! As we went over a bridge we mentioned that our friend George had been for training at a printing press-making factory there. Rainer said this had to be K&B – so took us to see it (together with abandoned railway rolling stock from the former-East, and indeed the war!) Then we went to the Residenz – which must be one of Europe’s great treasures. Built post-Reformation to rival Versailles it is utterly Baroque – in places rococo – it was destroyed by Allied bombs in 1945 and has been lovingly restored. The Hall of Mirrors is phenomenal! To think that all this excess had been commissioned by a bishop brings the whole Reformation thing to life (as Rainer demonstrated with visits next day to modest Protestant villages not far away!) Later we met up with the boys and went for lunch at the Juliusspital – a hospital with its own vineyards! (Eat your heart out NHS!) We all ate a dish with a rather rude but forgotten name -very tasty Wurst in a broth of white wine and vinegar with vegetables! And more white wine to drink with it – this time homing in on the Sylvaners!

A very late night, and eventually - as expected - the pelican flew across the Libyan Sea, with fond memories of Paleohora, the Matala moon – and much-missed Doris. No chance of us leaving Sunday as planned!

So Pentecost Sunday comprised a long and fascinating tour of Franconian wine villages, and over the Land border to some equally but distinctly beautiful villages, but not before we had been into Karlstadt itself and seen some of the sights in more detail. The sunshine and long weekend had brought out hundreds of cyclists making long and short trips down the Main. In the evening we made a quick turn-round for a family birthday supper with Italian wine and hams – very privileged again! The continuation chez Rainer made another dent in his Franconian wine collection!

Monday was a beautifully sunny day. We left at midday – objective Belgium! Swift progress and no navigational errors – then Luxembourg, which changes all the road numbers and slips in a complete break in the motorway, just to keep you awake! It really was very boring, and then we met a major road and a lot of post-Pentecost Belgians and Dutch folk. Thirsty and tired we pulled into a (the only?) service station in the Duchy! Mayhem! Fuel queues back into the slip-road, and inside the entire population of the two countries patiently queuing for ages to buy somewhat cheaper ciggies and tobacco (and for some reason coffee!) We (eventually) bought two Fantas and got out! (You can keep Luxembourg!) Then into Belgium (makes German road maintenance look advanced!) and to Bastogne and the luxurious Hotel Collin, where we had a room with a bathtub and the first bath since November 2009!

 

This Year's Great Trek North

We left Fuerteventura on Sunday 25th April (nervously bidding farewell to Chloe and Charlie who were ash-stranded until the next day). Our flight to Barcelona was completely unaffected, but the airport had plenty of anxious and angry Brits. In parrticular it seems that Thomas Cook locally had made a desperate mess of repatriating the stranded, so that seats were empty whilst flight-only customers were being dumped. We got a rundown on this from our insider, and it did sound bad! So interesting in fact that we had to run for the plane and were last on!

The journey from Barcelona airport to Girona airport was tedious: shuttle bus, two trains and a coach, but it all worked and the sun was shining as brightly as it had been in the Canaries. The train station at Barcelona Nord bus terminal is a mess and has no lift. We had been dreading carting all our belongings up the two flights of stairs, but a British party jumped in and helped, and in getting the coach, which runs every 15 minutes we saw shades of ash-chaos with pushing and shoving to get on. At the airport hotel we came across an Irish couple that had just discovered the theft - in the Reception area - of 2000 euros in cash plus all cards. What can you say?

In the morning we rang Yvette's winter guardian and he was with us in five minutes, taking us to their new off-site barn. A truly wonderful service!  She started first time and although there were a few electical  and other glitches all was well.

We had very few fixed points in planning the itinerary. This how it panned out:

• Girona
• Canet-en-Roussillon: 8 nights
• Carcassonne: overnight
• Brive: 2 nights
• Perigueux: 2 nights
• Le Queroy with George and Gregory: 2 nights
• Royan: 7 nights
• Orleans: 2 nights
• Metz: overnight
• Karlstadt, Bavaria

.. and the details!

In beautiful weather we crossed the Pyrenees and headed for Le Brasilia in Canet, but we had already decided it was not yet tent conditions, so we took a brand new mobile home instead. This was slightly over-budget as the cheap deal we used last year was not yet operational. In fact the site had only been open five days. The staff remembered us and were very friendly and proud of their new water park.  (see artist's impression!) It is supposed to evoke the Seychelles. By the time we were ready to risk our still cold- and cough-ridden bodies in the water the weather had changed - dramatically - and we saw no more of that feature!

The first hint that all was not well on the meteo front came when we took the bikes in for annual service on the promenade. We had a minimal discussion with the owner about the wind and he said there was some heavy rain on the way by Friday. There certainly was, and it turned very cold. We rummaged out warm clothes we had not expected to need, took to eating inside and worked our way through accumulated TV programmes. This included our take on watching the final UK leaders' debate: taking the laptop to a free WiFi cafe on the cold sea-front, downloading it with our special VPN deal over a beer, taking it back to the campsite and watching it in their huge deserted bar area over a pichet of red wine whilst the rain pelted down and 100kph winds blew. By Sunday there was some let-up and we managed a short ride along the prom where there was a huge brocante (car boot sale without the cars) along its entire entire 2 km length. We got back to the site just before the storm. This time it was even worse and by now the ground was sodden, so mud was added to the list! Nor did the meteo indicate that it would stop soon or that anywhere else in France was much better. By Tuesday morning we wondered if it was even safe to drive as planned. We waited and finally decided it had improved slightly and we would go some of the way towards the Dordogne. It was hard-going but we got to Carcassonne looking forward to the (very) simple comfort of the Premiere Classe hotel, only to find the credit card automated booking machine was having a bad day too! In a supermarket car park we finally admitted defeat and Bob looked out jeans, socks and trainers before racing inside to kill time over a hot chocolate. We re-acquainted ourselves with the delights of Campanile buffet dinners (although we think they have become a little meaner since last year). Next morning it had stopped raining so we set off for Brive. It was cold but OK for the main drive, but 20 or 30 km south of Brive we turned off to look at pretty riverside towns. The rain started, then the SNOW! Admittedly this was at some height, but it was shocking and quite frightening. Brive is not an interesting plaace, but we stayed two nights and did a lot of looking round for places that might be good for camping and or canoes in better weather. It was here - in one of Premiere Classe's disabled-friendly rooms that we passed UK Election Night - with the BBC radio commentary and the web-site. There is nothing to add about the outcome!

For Friday and Saturday nights we were based in Perigueux. We made some long car excursions out into beautiful countryside, but it was far too cold and potentially wet for cycling. We also made a list of pretty and small towns that were worth a visit in better weather, and we spent a few hours in Perigueux itself- a gastronome's paradise! Fortunately for those of us "not on holiday" - the restaurants were mostly closed!

Then we continued further North to visit George and son Gregory at the fishing enterprise near Poitiers. It was the first time we had seen them in person since Penny died in September, so the visit was tinged with sadness, but they are coping together, and we had some long conversations - not least about the on-going coalition negotiations :- George being lukewarm about the Lib Dems, to say the least. The foul weather continued! We saw nothing of the estate this time (no clients that week in any case), but did have several sightings of the hoopoe that lives in the lodge. In spite of it being the national bird of Israel we were very taken with it!

In Confolens several restaurants have closed and we found it very quiet, and in the village of Abzac there is now no source of fresh bread other than what is ordered and distributed from the residential home there. All rather depressing in terms of French social life! Anyway we ate at home on both nights, and spent time looking on-line for a part of France that might have better weather for our next phase. Nowhere looked good, so we were persuaded by G&G to try Royan - south of the Vendeee - a place that interests them in terms of relocation. We decided to take a whole week as we had not confirmed our proposed trip to Germany. It wasn't easy to find accommodation with the long weekend coming up. (There were 4 bank holidays in May in France this year!) After a struggle and a phone call by George we found Camping Le Royan with a mobile home for a fair price.

We drove down during the day through rain (again!). G&G followed later in the day and missed it, but it was very cold, windy and often wet during the time we were all there. Bob did some cycling with Gregory (and a little with George), we all attempted to fly a kite on the beach, and got a sense of the area. The town suffered badly from wartime bombardment, and was rebuilt to a regular street layout and with striking buildings such as the church. It was busy with French tourists for the long weekend. Very close is St George de Dindonne ("Ding-dong") - much quieter and verdant and with a wide beach. On our first visit we saw the local strolling band with clowns. Unfortunately all our activities were curtailed by the bitter weather, and we had to take shelter in bars and cafes. G&G had to leave after three nights, but before we saw them off we went to the local GoKart track. We stayed for the rest of the week , and the weather did improve somewhat! On the Sunday we took the bikes up the coast and undertook a (largely) published cycle ride with both coastal and forest parts. It was very busy with cyclists of all ages and many nationalities. Bob saw a teenage girl in an organised group stop twice in short succession to re-do her make-up

After a busy weekend things returned to a quiet normality for our remaining time - and so did the weather - dull, cold and windy! On Tuesday we set off for Germany. First stop was to be Orleans - straight up the A10. As we drove the sun came out. We stopped for a quick lunch in a service staion north of Poitiers, and as we got into the car someone pointed  to a rear tyre and we saw it was flat. Panic! We didn't think we could change the wheel ourselves and indeed were not sure where the relevant tools were, so we rang the number for our (Spanish-based) breakdown service. There was alot of to-ing and fro-ing with the phone calls, and the eventual discover that a service station is counted as equivalent to the motorway itself, so not covered! However the employee suggested we speak to a service-station person, and we found a man who was happy to do it for a modest tip. We had already emptied out the back of the car:- not a trivial task with all our life within it (including for camping). The spare tyre on this Doblo is an emergency-only affair stored underneath the car. We had to leave the motorway at the next junction and use intutition to find a tyre shop in Chateaulereut. This we managed and paid just 3 euros for a new valve and re-fitting of the original tyre. We had lost a couple of hours and added a few miles, but made it to Orleans. We stayed two nights there and made some trips around the Loire, finding quiet towns and villages. Then a long uneventful  drive to the final stop at Metz. We were within spitting distance of the German border.