Sarlac-le-Caneda is a stunning town. Our campsite was on the outskirts, a ten minute walk to the perfectly preserved 14^th century centre. It was a joy to wander round the maze of streets and winding passageways without being squashed – the streets are largely car free. In July and August, I imagine the number of tourists would be a challenge. Looking up at the turrets, the winding staircases, the arched windows and the balconies, I felt as if I was in a film set, so I was not surprised to read that it has featured in many films.  Apparently it was ‘saved’ by the dynamic Andre Malraux  (Minister of Culture, 1960-69) which earned him the honour of having a square named after him.  It developed around a large Benedictine Abbey, which later became the Cathedral.

Above the Cathedral is a ‘Lanternes des Morts’, one of the many ‘lanterns of the dead’ which are dotted across the centre and west of France. These Moorish looking small, stone conical buildings with rooflights would be lit up at night to mark the position of a cemetery.

Around the central Place de la Liberte are a number of tempting restaurants, and we decided to sample one. It was a pleasure to sit outside and enjoy the beautiful location but the food wasn’t much cop – overpriced tourist fodder.

The whole town is obsessed with Foie Gras – there’s a large square dedicated to a goose market – but as a non meat eater, I was not even slightly tempted to give it a try.

The weather remained cool so we decided to cut our losses and head down to our next stopover a day early. Destination: the medieval town of Sarlat-la-Caneda.

At lunchtime, we came off the Satnav and wandered at will through the narrow lanes of the Hautes Viennes, into the land that time forgot. Abandoned houses standing empty, with birds flying in and out the windows. We came across the  tiny settlement of Pageas Chenevieres: just a farm and a few outbuildings, the thirteenth century church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Chenevieres and its large graveyard. Clearly this was once a thriving village. Some teenagers idly drove their car out of the farmyard and down through the fields as we set up our ‘picnique’ of bread and cheese.

After lunch, we came down from the Viennes and into the Dordogne. The drive through the Perigord region was beautiful with ancient hamlets, the houses made from a warm yellow stone, reminiscent of the Cotswolds. First we were surrounded by orchards of apples and then apple trees gave way to walnut trees – signs informed us we were on the ‘Route de Noix’.  All rather lovely.  Note to self: buy walnuts.

However, later that afternoon, David forgot the ‘look to the left’ rule and almost wiped us out at a junction. A scary moment. So now the ‘driving cock up’ score is one all –  and let’s hope we can leave it at that!

Ooops

Today we were on the ‘Route de Tours’ the scenic route to Tours along the River Loire. As a coda to our trip to the megalithic menhirs at Carnac, we stopped off in the elegant town of Saumur, (birthplace of Coco Chanel, famous for it’s sparkling wine and its cavalry training academy) to see the largest Dolmen in Europe, the Dolmen de Bagneux. It’s a vast chamber, 23 metres long and three metres high, which is believed to have been used as a burial tomb. It is thought to have been built around the time of the first pyramids in Egypt, about 5,000 years ago. It’s a internationally important site, and so I was slightly taken aback to find it tucked away in the back garden of No. 56 Rue de Dolmen, just behind a café. An entry fee of 4 euros is charged by the café owner. The Dolmen itself rubs shoulders with the everyday accoutrements of a French back yard – a few plastic chairs, a table, a rusty slide. Faded information signs are strewn about or propped casually up against the Dolmen.  I couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or delighted by this. On the one hand, there is something slightly magical in the idea of opening a gate into a back garden and finding an extraordinary object like that – and perhaps if it was owned by the French equivalent to English Heritage or the National Trust, you wouldn’t be allowed to go inside or touch it.

At the same time, I am slightly appalled that such a treasure has been left in the hands of a private owner.  Some old newspaper cuttings in the café revealed that the Dolmen was for sale from 2005-2009 – Pascal Normand, the owner of the café wanted to move house but couldn’t find anyone to take it off his hands.  The article said that he was hopeful that an Englishman would buy it – ‘the English seem to love this sort of thing, the French have no interest’. I’m not sure if he got his wish or whether he is still stuck with it.

Wonder if he’s open to offers…?

The long gallery

I woke to see the sun peeping out from behind the clouds and felt sure it was going to go be a better day. David volunteered to walk into Brissac-Quince, as it was market day today, and he was eager to feast his eyes on all the joys of a French market.  I stayed behind as I’m currently working on a script and surreal as it seems out here, I have deadlines to meet! He came back bearing a selection of fine cheeses, a beautiful Bass for the barbecue, and two cheeky slices of custard tart with prunes (Sorry, the French word escapes me) .

It was well into the afternoon before I’d finished work, and we decided to stroll into town again and perhaps sample a refreshing ‘Pression’ at a nice looking bar David had spotted on the main square (new word: draft beer).  As we approached the town we spotted the thrusting towers of a Chateau known as ‘Chateau de Brissac’.  It was hard to miss, since it is (as we later learned) the tallest Chateau in France. It was built by the Comtes de Anjou in the 11^th century, but like many Chateaus it was ransacked during the French Revolution. Restorations began in 1844. Since we were in the Loire, and the Loire is supposed to be all about the Chateaux, we thought we ought to drop in and visit. We had to join a group as apparently the Chateau is still inhabited by the Brissac family (now know as the Cosse-Brissacs) and they’re not keen to have people wandering about their home looking at their unmade beds.  So a guided tour it had to be, at ten euros each. As we set off, I feared we may have made a mistake. I’m not a fan of a guided tour at the best of times and this one was in French. My A level French is a wee bit rusty.

I cast my eye round the first room – a drawing room, with the usual quota of fancy sideboards, ancient tapestries and fine china.  More surprising were the portraits of the present day residents rubbing shoulders with portraits of celebrities such as Sophia Loren, Roger Moore, Gerard Depardieu and Nureyev which were clearly taken at the Chateau. A hint of unexpected things to come.

Upstairs, we entered a vast empty gallery designed for large parties. I’m sure all those celebrities had some great times up there. The gallery led to a secret door – and who doesn’t love a secret door? –  which gave way to an intimate bedchamber where in 1620 King Louise IV and his estranged mother Marie de Medici met and were briefly reconciled before their two factions fell out once again. Again, unexpected.

Up another flight of stairs, there was an entire theatre – footlights, curtains, lighting box, the lot. Built on the instructions of the widowed Marchioness de Brissac, Jeanne Say. Apparently, she was a brilliant soprano herself and inevitably received top billing at her festival, which was attended by the best musicians and singers of the day. She hosted her very own opera festival every Autumn from 1890 to 1916. On her death, it was closed for 47 years and was only then restored to its original state. It is still used for performances today.

Stuffed and mounted

Next, we heard about another talented Marchioness. Widowed at 27, she devoted her life to making the finest quality champagne.  She is better known as Veuve Cliquot – “the Grand Dame of Champagne”. I assumed  ‘Veuve Cliquot’ was just a brand name. Her portrait hangs in the Chateau. She is shown on the terrace of the Chateau with her great granddaughter, Anna. She is in her eighties: all dressed in black,  she looks a formidable old bird.  Anna – later known as Anna de Rochechonart de Mortenant – went on to become a well known writer, campaigner and feminist. She was the first woman in France to gain her driving licence. She was also the first to receive a speeding fine!

The underground canal

The tour ended with an invitation to try three Rose wines which are grown by the Chateau. We tried them all and purchased the (cheapest) five euro bottle. Why pay more…? It went down very well with the Bass David bought in the market.

Chateau de Brissac won in tombola by English tourist

Woke up to a cold day with heavy cloud and rain. After a late start, we hit the road, destination Domaine de L’Etang, a campsite just outside Brissac-Quince, Near Angers in the Loire Valley, a distance of about 160 miles. I was driving today, and maybe that was a bad omen because it turned into an epic fail day. If it was a movie, it would be arthouse and nobody would really enjoy it.

Act 1, we failed to recognise we were almost out of fuel until the dashboard light came on, which was just after we’d passed a petrol station. As we drove on, the fuel guage was edging towards zero and the nearest petrol station showing on the Satnav was 15 kilometres away. So we decided to come off the road and hit a town. Cue tense drive around a deserted town with no garage in sight. Just as we were resigning ourselves to breakdown, a petrol station icon started to flash on the Satnav – distance 2 miles. Would it be open? Would we make it? The answer was yes! We heaved a sigh of relief and filled our thirsty tank full to the brim.

Act Two, we took a tour of a neighbouring supermarket to stock up on items we had failed to bring. Corkscrew, knife, bread knife and lighter to name a few.

Act Three, on the way back to the payage, I failed to remember that on a roundabout, traffic approaches from the left side. David tried to slam on the brake but unfortunately he was in the passenger seat of the van so it did no good. No impact occurred but nerves were slightly further frayed.

Act Four, we struggled to find the campsite, taking a detour into a gypsy encampment. When we arrived, the rain was unrelenting. After setting up camp, we headed straight to the bar, expecting to find a bit of warmth and bonhomie. Alas, it was a cold and windswept tent with no one in it. We took our drinks in ‘the games room’, which would have been okay if we’d had any change for the pool table.

Act 5. We were tucked up in bed by nine o clock, resolving to do better tomorrow!

Once upon a time there were a couple of middle aged marrieds called Nell and Dave who decided to turn their back on the mortgage, the nine to five and the gentle decline into old age and to go on an excellent adventure!  “What about the rest of the kids, the parents, the dog?” I hear you say, but the kids are all over 18 and thankfully the parents seem to be doing okay, and we’re not short of offers to look after the dog, so we’re going to be selfish and do this thing. You only live once, Carpe Diem, live adventurously and so on.

So, in just over a week we set off on the first leg of our Senior Gap Year.  That’s what the Americans call it, a  “Senior Gap Year”. And in the absence of another, more British phrase, that’s what we’re calling it. At about five in the morning on 29 August we’ll climb into our (VW T5 short wheel base) campervan and head for the 8:30 ferry from Poole to Cherbourg. After that, we’ll be bumbling about France and Italy for about six weeks.

So this week, our mission has been to get the van ready.  We already have a kitchen conversion with two hobs and a fridge. In addition we decided to:

1. Replace the weedy tyres with sexy, chunky new ones.
2. Add a pop top so that we can stand up in the van – and get some ventilation going on those blistering hot days.
3. Add an awning to give us shade on those blistering hot days (notice a theme here? The weather in the UK has been rubbish this August and we’re both craving sun)
4. Purchase dayglo jackets, a warning triangle and spare light bulbs to keep on the right side of the Gendarmes.
5. Take everything out the van, clean the van, then put everything back in better.  And last but not least….
6. Install a kick-ass stereo with mahoosive subwoofers under the front seat.

And then on the seventh day, we stood back and saw that it was good. Or was it…? What was that strange whining noise? It wasn’t there before. Quick search of the van. Unable to find the source. Maybe we’ll just leave it. But just imagine how annoying that whining would become as we drive through France, even if we could drown it out with the kiss-ass stereo. And how even more annoying when you’re trying to sleep. So today we –

7. Bought a replacement Zig-zag unit. What is a Zig-zag unit? I have no idea, but thankfully, Dave does. And hopefully, he knows how to replace it. And hopefully, replacing it will stop the annoying whine.

Hopefully.