(One of the lock-keeper houses)

A couple of days ago we walked to a big shopping center in town. It was further away than I thought, it was lunchtime, it was 26 degrees and it was uphill. By the time we arrived I was gasping and cranky and needed a drink. I got my drink, Denis got what he came for but as they had free wifi, he sat down to update some software on his laptop and I went off to find a comfy seat and read my book. Within minutes Denis phoned, he had just realised he was supposed to be on a client call. Fortunately, there was wifi and he could use his laptop but unfortunately there was loud music everywhere (except outside) and he had no headphones. He went outside to start the call and I went in search of cheap headphones.

(From the animal park in Cléres)

When I came back, Denis was frantically using sign language to ask me for his phone. I didn’t have his phone… he didn’t have his phone… Meanwhile the call was going on in the background and he had to pay attention. I searched my rucksack and his rucksack for the phone. No phone. The call finished. We replayed his steps and realised he had put the phone down on a bench in the car park and walked away from it with his laptop to better hear the call… We approached the bench. It was completely empty.

(This guy is also from Cléres. Can you see he has his beak out through the fence?)

Now if you’ve ever lost your phone you will know there’s an option to find it with your laptop so he began to do that while I decided the best place for me and my opinions about leaving a phone on a bench in a car park, was somewhere else. So I tried the old-fashioned method of finding lost property and went to the security guard. The security guard didn’t speak English so he sent me to the lady at the customer desk. She didn’t speak English either but she rang someone. They didn’t speak English either but they used their phone to tell me… we have your husband’s phone here but we need the owner to come and verify that it is theirs. In that short period of time, ten or fifteen minutes, someone had handed in his phone.

You just have to love France, don’t you? Mairead.

(Wildflowers… or maybe you can’t call them wild when they are purposefully planted?)

It’s lashing rain with grey clouds today which makes me so glad I took yesterday off to enjoy a beautiful day in a beautiful place. We have moved from the pretty town surrounded by the Champagne vineyards to a aire in the countryside. It is bright green underfoot and overhead and the only sounds (besides other motorhome people) are birds.

(Look at those healthy nettles!)

I didn’t take yesterday off completely – I washed the windows! I was delighted with my work until wasps started visiting us, I suppose we did smell good. Luckily I bring night lights and citronella essence on every trip so I lit the candles and put a few drops into the melted wax. The wasps left. So I can definitely recommend it.

(Can you see the cow?)

This aire is very like one we visited in the Netherlands last year, in that it has everything we might need and is very well maintained and beautifully kept. There’s a toilet and shower, electricity and water – in and out, rubbish and recycle bins, a communal seating area under cover, where I’m now sitting writing, a washing machine and a dryer. It is privately owned and monsieur comes around in the evening to collect €7.00 for parking and €2.50 for electricity (use of the washing machine and dryer cost extra.)

(The church, the covered market and the mayor’s house in town)

The town is 1km away along a grassy path. Where there’s a Boulanger, two cafes, a hairdressers (I am building the courage to have my hair cut at a french hairdressers… communication is very important but never more so than when a misunderstanding can mean too much of your hair has landed on the floor…)  an old church, a covered market (open on Wednesdays) a tourist office and the mayor’s house. On the other side of town a further 1km there’s a supermarket with car wash which we definitely need as we were very good about not washing the van during the hose pipe ban but that has ensured we are possibly the grubbiest van in France. Maybe the rain will help.

(The path to town)

There’s a stream running through the aire and the owners have planted small groves of wildflowers on the banks between the trees while nature has planted a grove of nettles. You know in someone else’s garden nettles are very appealing. They look like they are bursting with green health and you just can’t ignore them… because of the whole stinging issue. You have to be hyper aware near nettles – not a bad complaint. Plus, they make great tea… if you can pick them. Anyway, I was contemplating the nettles when I noticed something moving on the other side of the stream, a huge (really, huge!) cow, rusty-red coloured with enormous horns (really, enormous!) and long hair. Yes, he (or she) had long hair. I took a photo but was too far away to get a clear picture. Maybe there’ll be an opportunity for a better shot when the rain stops this afternoon.

From our green and wet field in France, Mairead.

(There are little route markers on the ground marking the way)

We’re still here in the car park of the pretty town and today after coffee I went to visit the tourist office. We had seen signs describing different buildings as we walked to and from the van and I wondered if there might be a walking tour booklet. There was… two in fact. I choose the Between Vineyards and Orchards Route and set off with my camera.

(Here’s the house where Napoleon slept on the 9th of February 1814)

That’s when I realised we were staying in a very prestigious area. Napoleon himself stayed just across the square from our parking spot, if I lean out the front driver’s window I can see the front door. It was a long time ago but as they say, if it’s good enough for Napoleon… The tour then took me up a hill and outside the town and into some Champagne vineyards with lovely views.

(View from the vineyards)

I was completely on my own up there with just some small animal rustling coming from a forest of trees beside the path. I’d like to think squirrels. In case it was something less sweet I kept walking and came to the orchard section of the route. These were small apple groves behind fences. One of the trees had a ladder leaning against it, I suppose it’s harvest time but there was no one about.

(This healthy looking plant is making Champagne juice!)

Then the route took me back into town via a narrow passageway between two houses leading to a lane with a tiny canal that had been built in the Middle Ages to divert water from the river Le Grand Morin that flows outside the town, in order to power flour mills. Canal is probably the wrong word for it, it is probably only two foot wide where I saw it but I checked out Google Maps and it was long, well, long to have been dug out by hand (probably.)

(The friendly lady and the Comte’s house)

By now it was close to noon and getting hot so I found some shade. I was waiting trying to cool down when a friendly lady passing asked me if I was looking for something. In French. I explained (in French) that I was doing a great tour of the town and she pointed out that the house I was standing in front of was the birthplace of the Comte de Orleans. So I took a picture of the house with the friendly lady standing in front of it to mark the occasion when I had an interesting conversation in French!

(The vineyards stretch into the next village)

No, unfortunately I do not know who the Comte of Orleans is, he wasn’t mentioned in my guide but that’s not the important bit…

Adieu, Mairead.