Soixante

Georgie and Donnie reached the ripe old age of sixty last week (Wednesday). In order to celebrate this milestone Donnie had flown out from London to stay with us for a few days as we attacked the Dordogne area for a birthday treat. First stop was the Lidl supermarché at Egletons where we stocked up with grub, vino and champagne for our overnight stay at some gite Georgie had booked. Second stop was Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne where we arrived just after lunchtime. Had the obligatory coffee by the town centre trees then did the obligatory stroll by the river where we took the obligatory snaps with the riverside church in the background. Touristy stuff done we headed on to the gite. This turned out to be a splendid gaff in a splendid spot overlooking Queyssac-les-Vignes run by a charming English couple who had only recently escaped Angleterre. Cracked open the champers as the sun slowly slid below the distant western horizon.

 Next day we decided to ask if we could book the gite for another night. Luckily we could, so we had a whole day to go to..., er..., wherever. Georgie suggested the historic village of Carennac on the Dordogne river. So off we went. Fascinating place, and apparently quite famous (typically, I'd never heard of it). Had a coffee on the patio of an hotel where a coachload of Japanese tourists were noshing lunch. Normally this patio is shut in rainy October (outside the tourist season) but what with the blazing sunshine and balmy weather they'd decided to keep it open. Gosh, it was hot. And, due to lack of rain, the river below was a mere shadow of its former self. Anyways, the birthday girls weren't complaining.

With an afternoon to kill, Georgie suggested we boogy on to Rocamadour, as Donnie had never been there. So off we went. Arrived there and looked down the valley at the dizzying sight below. Then drove down to the bottom, turned around and drove back up again. To reach the old town you had to park in the valley and then leg it up a thousand steps - couldn't be arsed. Back at the top I fancied a coffee and sarnie. All three caffs that we visited politely said "bugger off, we shut at two" (t'was now two fifteen). So I buggered off in a huff.

Next, we headed for our barn and ruin of a cottage near Serilhac. Seemed a good idea at the time. Hadn't been there for years. Thought it may have fallen down. It's on the way back to the gite so might as well pop in. Getting to it is a bit tricky though. Bottom gear wobble up a bumpy, pot-holed, sump-bashing, rocky track. Then park up and continue on foot. Takes about an hour top to bottom. Knackering. But the view from the top, south over the Dordogne area, makes all the effort worthwhile. Especially on a sunny day.

Arrived back at the gite. Bit tired. Fattygayed, as I call it. Been a long day. Only had a few rows. Mainly about map-reading and hitting towns with roadworks and getting diverted in completely the wrong direction. Usual stuff. Gasping for the soirée's vino. Pinot Noir. Nodded off on the settee in front of the telly. Woken up and led to bed.

Next day (Friday) packed up and headed north for home following the Dordogne valley. Very pretty route. Stopped off at Argentat, parked up and sauntered down to the river. Sat at a table in the sunshine outside a fab riverside caff where Don et moi had coffee while Georgie demolished a choccy and vanilla ice cream perched on a waffle (er, the ice cream was on the waffle, not Georgie).
Apparently flat-bottomed barges used to travel up and down the Dordogne from Bordeaux to Argentat carrying goodies like wood and slate. More research required. One of these barges is perched on the riverside as a museum piece and/or tourist attraction and/or educational heritage item. Fascinating. Were they horse-drawn, windsail driven or steam engine powered? More research required.

Leaving Argentat, the landscape changed from smooth Dordogny to roughish uplands. Soft to hard. Felt different. Still pretty, but different. Completed our three day loop by arriving at Egletons where we once again raided Lidl. Then home.

Been a good sixtieth. Lucky with the weather once again. Same as last year. But Georgie says snow is forecast for this coming week-end. Ah well, soon be spring.