Before I forget, I’ll have to tell you what I remember I forgot. Going right back to the first week in Spain. We were driving inland towards Cabuerniga, when unannounced, I turned off to the left into the hills. You have to realise that, at this stage, we hadn’t had enough of mountains! The road petered out at Lamiña. All onward routes into the hills were either dead ends or looked like they might become so very quickly. So Lamiña became our destination. The Bar Casa Manolito was the obvious choice for a coffee. It was, after all, the ONLY place in town. Inside there were five blokes (including the barman), two ladies and two kids. Probably plus a dog, but I’m not sure about that. Possibly that was the total population of the village. The TV (compulsory in bars) was blaring away. The newspapers were all in Spanish (no surprise there!) with not enough pictures to tell what was going on. The kids were fairly rampant. But the coffees were OK. Before leaving we made the required visit to the loos.
While Glenda was in the ladies minding her own business, the window burst open and the two kids jumped in. I wasn’t there, obviously, but I understand that there were four feet in the sink before Glenda realised what was going on and pushed the little darlings back out. The window was at least three metres above the back lane where they landed. They were much less active after that episode! At least two twisted ankles and a developing hatred of tourists! Well, it was Spain after all. Expect the unexpected from mountain children isolated from the real world for months on end!
That was then and this is more nearly now!
Time for a new place to visit. Camping La Brouquère. We stayed here last year for two weeks, but they are really busy this year. Glenda says they received glowing reviews in the British press early in the year. One of the best little campsites in France. That might have had a bearing, but there was us, one other English couple and two Scots campers. Everyone else was Dutch. Maybe a lot of Netherlanders read my blog last year. I must play things down a bit!
On pitch 11, with a lovely view out the front and back. But our meter is showing that the electrics are not earthed. “Impossible, no one else has complained in the ten years this pitch has been operational! Your meter must be faulty! We will check it” So Woulter and Pom get busy. “Ahh, no earth connection – your meter isn’t broken!” Dismantling, first our supply bollard …
… then the feeder bollard the other side of the road where they find earth wires completely unconnected. Never joined!
Well, now we have an earth. Everything is hunky dory. We are expecting a massive discount for making the site a safer place! “Dream on” says Woulter. We are still dreaming!
The site is overrun by at least five species of orchid. This one is a bee orchid. Rare at home. Dirt common here!.
We might need Barry to interpret this flag signal. We think it might say “Brief Message from the Van-guard, show-cette à l’Amiral Chemise, the view out the yfront is brarilliant, but the electrics were pants”. Or not, as the case may be!
Our back garden with pyramid, lizard, purple, bee and tongue orchids. Careful where you put your feet!
As seen from a “bracing” pool …
… and from the other side of the valley!
Not a million miles away, Larressingle is a fortified village. The lady running the little café just inside the main entrance said she remembered us from last year. You won’t remember, but we spent ages getting her to tell us her grandmother’s secret five-cheese recipe for croque-monsieur. Excellent coffee!
As we sat down to our drinks, hordes of school children were being drilled by an ancient chevalier. Or possibly by a school teacher in fancy dress. All 50 kids were issued with swords (probably plastic) and trained to shoulder their weapons and, taking three steps forward, stab a mysteriously absent foe. Their battle cry was pathetic, till teacher said “Imagine you are attacking Les Anglais”. That improved their voice significantly. The question I had was, why hold the swords in their left hands? And I still don’t know. I wanted to shout that “Les Anglais ne sont pas terifiés!” But Glenda wouldn’t let me. Maybe she had a point. They might be plastic, but I bet 50 plastic swords in concert could inflict some damage! And the kids had been worked up into a frenzy after half an hour of practise! So we waved goodbye, and left!
Friday is market day in Vic-Fezensac
A nice market. But we must try harder to get to these functions a bit earlier. The last hour is not the ideal time to visit. But today, we are combining the market where we didn’t buy food with a visit to La Falène Bleu in Lannepax for lunch.
… and very good it was too.
Back at camp we find Woulter in work mode.
You can tell he’s in work mode. The ear defenders and strimmer in hand offer a clue. But the defining point is the little cross on his shirt. Sonja had got a bit annoyed with him gardening in his “best” shirts. She has marked all his work shirts like this! I think that’s an excellent idea. Glenda is going to get busy with a magic marker as soon as we get home!
Before leaving La Brouquère, we have two more visits to make. Jan and Gran, two caravanning friends, had arrived at Camping Florence at La Romieu. We arrange to meet by the Four Musketeers outside the cathedral in Condom.
Cathédral Saint-Pierre de Condom. Magnificent!
Next up was Auch. We have been close many times, but have never visited – at least not within living memory! It’s Saturday! It’s market day! We arrive to an “interesting” parking situation. We managed to avoid the tempting, vacant space in the payment section of the carpark and wedged ourselves between two French cars as far out of the traffic flow as possible. “It’ll be fine here, just move another centimetre forward!”
And we were directly into the market in front of the Cathédral Sainte-Marie.
… and on the left a nice little restaurant (Bistro Baland) where Glenda had what her brother would call a balanced diet!
After lunch we walked 100 metres and found ourselves drawn into a cultural centre (La Maison Gascogne) where a lot of interesting activities were being promoted.
Car restoration, needlework, woodwork, all sorts of semi-magical healing options, weaving, weird harp design to mention just a few! As we arrived, we found ourselves on the catwalk runway of a fashion show. Literally, ON it! Everything from micro-dresses to more exotic costumes were paraded past us …
The picture of the micro-dress has been edited out by the sub-editor! But illustrations of extraordinarily complex and delicate “weaving” …
… and circular harps have survived!
The section devoted to psychoanalysis and other wonderful treatments of the mind attracted me – but not for long. Offers of instant analysis of my mental processes were too scary to even consider! The nearest any of them are getting to my brain is to sell me a new hat!
We are out of here!
Farewell to Sonja and Woulter and their part time assistants at La Brouquère, Pom (?) and Claudia …
… and we are off to pastures new!
… just don’t mention the bloody ants!
Pleased to hear you are having “a balanced diet” despite all the tempting markets.