TUESDAY 28^th JUNE Posted 3 weeks later.

Rodez – Decazeville – Figeac – Lacapelle-Marival – St Céré – Bretenoux – Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne – Quatre Routes – Ste Fortunade – Tulle – Montargis – Chamboulive – Treignac – Chambret – Domps – Eymoutiers – Peyrac-le-Château – Bourganeuf – St Dizier-Leyrenne – le Grand Bourg – Dun-le-Palestet – Crozant – Eguzon – Baraizer – Celon. 345 km / 215 miles.

We’re driving through the Lot region, marked out by square towers topped by pyramidal roofs with flared bases. We stop in Lacapelle-Marival, another breathtakingly pretty village for a coffee and to find some pain artisanal. Lovely coffee shop facing the castle with its pretty garden. Gwyn goes in to order the coffee and falls head over heels on the uneven steps coming out, twisting back and grazing knee. Boo hoo. And I was sober. But Von has emergency TCP and Elastoplast. All better.

Sympathy for hurty knee in Lacapelle-Marival

There is an abrupt change from red pantile roofs to grey slate in the space of just ten kilometres south of Tulle, between Quatre Routes and Ste Fortunade, a clear divide between north and south. There are isolated exceptions, but the change is sudden and decisive. It’s around the 45^th parallel, and talking of which, some roads in France have signs announcing the parallels. It’s a nice touch, and one that we could cheaply adopt, for who knows — it might stimulate some child to ask “What’s that all about?” and thereby learn something. Impractical, romantic and hopeless, that’s me.

On the 9^th June 1944 the Nazis killed 210 inhabitants of the town of Tulle. There is a street commemorating the murders and the town was decked with posters urging people to remember them. Later we are informed that in Tulle in August 1967 Geoffrey Wheatcroft and our friend Nicholas Kennedy (with whom we’re going to stay in Saonnet) were accused by the hotel management of towel theft, just as they were about to drive off. The subsequent luggage search proved negative and the towels were found under the beds, where it was assumed the maid never dusted. 1967? I couldn’t afford to stay in hotels in 1967. I still can’t now.

We find a field off a quiet road for our picnic, and it really is pretty and peaceful — nothing to remark on, just a green field bordered with oak trees. Very tranquil. Milo loved it.

I forgot to take any photos so I nicked this off Le Canard’s website

We arrive at Le Canard Au Parapluie Rouge (The Duck With The Red Umbrella) at Celon, a B&B run by Martin and Kathy Missen. It is very hot indeed, in the mid 90s. They have a plunge pool and we gratefully cool down. I then go in for a zizz and just as I am dropping off Graham, fotoLibra’s sales guru, calls from Devon, bless him. Too zonked really to take in what’s going on. His children are going into Great Ormond Street. Hope they will be helped.

Martin has movie star good looks and a great Wiltshire brogue, and Kathy is a pretty American from Ohio. They met in St. Thomas in the Caribbean, where they ran a resort for 15 years. Milo meets their dog Ruby, a lovely bitch with a touch of Viszla about her. They’re not too sure about each other at first, but read on. That will change.

Oh, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby!

Delicious dinner (indoors — it has just started to rain) cooked by the Missens is taken with Derek and Jenny, a cheerful retired couple who live in Malaga in the winter and Lancashire in the summer. This is the path of their annual migration. Jenny is not feeling great and retires early. It must be me. I think I must be very boring.

Long-eared owl chicks gently call to each other all night through the rain. Very peaceful.

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