Real Gone Kid

Actually, the rain started again... and then some. The central core of our habitat remained impervious to the downpour and there we remained for several hours whilst the rain drummed on the outer shell. During this time Arthur went a little stir crazy and the influence of hanging around with too many Dutch kids took over. When he eventually got free he spent a delirious couple of hours roaming the camp schpeaking ina de Dootch acschent and shaying "I likea de rock'n'roll und dee pretty gurls".

Whilst Arthur was rambling and incoherent, the rest of us discovered that water had breached the outer habitat and spent much time sluicing out with our spare grundies and a couple of wet-wipes. We realised that the groundsheet in the porch was causing the water to pool... it had to go.

Monsoon Update

It's stopped.

St Generoux...

...provided our lunchtime stop at the Au Bon Accueil, where we enjoyed, couscous, mussels, steak, meringues, chocolate mousse and a fantastic peach tart.

Back to camp and the first real rain we've seen has started. Looks like we're inside with the Mr Bean DVD again.

Mirebeau

After the market we headed for Mirebeau, attracted by descriptions of a 13th century fortified town with fountains and secret caves. Anyway, it was a bit like Almondbury.



"Combien coûte ce chien dans la fenêtre?"

No Caption Required

The rest of the market was a riot...

...of colour.

More Thouars!

So yesterday evening was a bit disappointing. We reckon we'd have done better playing more cricket and exploring the other canalside villages of the Marais Poitevin than bothering with Niort.

So on our drive home we planned this morning's itinerary.

Nearby town Thouars has its main market on a Friday, so we were up early to head there. It was great. As you can see above, their branch of Ann Summers is called Armor-lux! It will come as no surprise when I tell you (and I will say this only once) that Thouars was the home of the French Resistance. Fill yer boots Fritz!

The Loch Niort Monster

At least they make their own entertainment.

Niort to do!

Away from the bars it was either deserted like everywhere else in France, or frequented by drunks, junkies and speedings cars chasing along the mediaeval streets.

Arthur dived to avoid a crack-addled Lambretta merchant.

Hit the Niort!

We arrived at Niort, which was recommended on a Thursday evening as having late opening shops and floodlit architecture. We parked up in a busy main square with a string of smart restaurants and cafe bars alongside and things were looking up. In high spirits we set off looking for shops to mill around.

The Marais Poitevin

After an day in the encampment we were liberated for a few hours. We planned to mill around evening shops in the town of Niort, south of Partheney but diverted to the canalside village of Coulon on the Marais Poitevin... known as Green Venice as its labyrinthine canals can be punted along for miles... almost to La Rochelle at the coast.

Here we picnicked and played cricket before heading into Niort.

Yesterday afternoon day by the pool

On Manoevres today

More later...

The day we ate more cake.

Wiley old Joan has only found the parts of the broken fridge we'd stashed behind the septic tank. She's used them to make some ersatz electronic tags which she insists we all wear whenever we leave the site. Her 'one size fits all' philosophy is a bit rough on the little ones who's tags tend to look a bit like callipers. Merri stood still for too long outside La Poste in Partheney and a French crone tried to jam a 2 Euro coin into her head as a donation to La Societie des Spastiques.

Anyway, we all got used to hobbling around after a while. You know what they say about people from Yorkshire... kick one and they all limp.

Wednesday is market day in Parthenay which lies about 15 miles south of Airvault (which is actually pronounced 'Airvo' rather than Air Vault... explains why we kept being directed to a gymnastics event when we asked for directions on the way down). So, yes, back to Parthenay. A nice little town with a mediaeval quarter which we skipped today and a more modern (but not too modern) market town centre.

Less chi-chi than Saumur but hustly and bustly nonetheless. We wandered the market stalls, picking up fruit, local goats cheeses, more fantastic gateaux (a chocolate eclair, with rich chocolate cream inside, a chocolate Royale and a Rum Baba with Chantilly cream).

The haute couture isn't quite what you might find in Paris, as you can judge from the picture below and the men's stores look as if Greenwoods won the war..

However, Lisa did pick up a sexy number from Parthenay's very own branch of Ann Summers. Ce soir is definitely le soir!

After drinks at the Cafe de Theatre we headed off for Bougon to visit another stone age tumulus. Rather than the usual mound of rocks in a farmer's field, this place had a full museum attached and some fairly lengthy pathways to get to the actual burial mounds. It was 31 degrees by this time so we did the place justice, but didn't hang around.

Back at base, we had a lazy afternoon by the pool and had garbanzos for tea. Grace had seven helpings!

It is I, l'Eclerc!

An abrupt start at 5am! I awoke to a rustling sound towards the front of the tent. Usually this is either Merri or Arthur tossing and turning, but then I heard a chinking of bottles and a rattling of pots.

I unzipped the sleeping bag, unzipped the bedroom and crawled out. Strapping my headtorch on I peered through the gauze at each of the children in turn. All sound asleep.

I bravely unzipped the front door and looked around behind the food locker and near the bottles. Nothing. All quiet. I decided to nip to the loo, seeing as I was up. So off I trotted, unzipping the porch on the way. On my way back from the toilet block (which, incidentally, has Cliff Richard pumped through at piercing volume 24 hours a day in a sort of Magic FM version of the Ipcress File... but they won't break me!) I approach the tent only to see the tent flaps blast open and a tumble of feral cat come rolling and snarling out! Caught in the glare of my headtorch it stared at me from underneath next door's caravan, its eyes burning into me through the night.

Mystery solved! We must make sure that all food is zipped up at night and the rubbish bin emptied to avoid a return visit.

To be honest, I hadn't suspected a cat, but rather thought it might be a 'herrison' or hedgehog. Signs throughout the encampment warn inmates of the hedgehogs' nocturnal patrol - Joan's Shock Troops we call them. Meredith came off the worse for wear when she met one on her way to the loo in the dark. Why, you ask, would Merri be wandering about the camp on her own at night? Well she wasn't. She was with Arthur. We've been sending the youngest out on night manoevres. It's hard on them but, we feel, life affirming. Only the other night, they were 'reccy'ing the far end of the compound when they discovered two ancient Fokkers lying under an old tarp. Fortunately, they'd had a drop too much Le Piat d'Or and were sound asleep, so the kids managed to sneak past them, only to discover two hidden aircraft. An escape might just be viable!

Anyhow, we thought that you might enjoy some pictures of the camp, as we've stayed around for most of the day - there's the playground, the pool, there's Grace using quantum computing to hack into the Echelon satellite network via the Large Hadron Collider at CERN whilst also sending Hotmail, the ping pong table, the gun tower and the bar:

Grace has also been tracking Agent Joe Gash's progress on his covert mission to Africa - details of which can be found here.

What else? Well I broke the fridge this morning by leaning on it and jamming the fan. Joan let me leave the compound for one hour max in order to requisition an alternative asset in Thouars. She told me to look for l'Eclerc... I'd know him when I saw him. Turns out l'Eclerc is actually a provisions depot masquerading as a supermarket. The one in Thouars is also under development, meaning it has no 'l'Eclerc' signage at all and is instead surrounded by scaffolding, barbed wire and masonry. The locale makes Beirut look like Pateley Bridge. Nevertheless, dodging sniper fire I make it inside only to find that the security guard speaks only in a strange foreign dialect. Luckily he grasps my meaning when I shout "FRIDGE! LE PIC-NIC! LE CAMPING!" at him and off I toddled leaving him with the handful of snout given to me by Joan as 'currency'. (Seems this 'snout' is very special and the "paint your own pots" event in the marquee is, in fact a "grow your own pot" session in the hydroponics section!)

Will try to get a message through later on... signal permitting!

Buns!

On the way up to the chateau we'd spotted a fancy cake shop with some delicious apricot and cherry tarts in the window. Grace and I stopped off on the way back to the car to pick one up.

We knew it was going to be expensive when the shop-keeper started gift-wrapping it... but we couldn't resist picking up two extra raspberry tarts. Just in case!

An afternoon in Saumur

The rest of the afternoon was spent at Saumur on the banks of the Loire. We'd spotted this beautiful looking town with is chateau cresting the river above a mediaeval arched bridge on our journey from Paris the other day and agreed to return.

We were rewarded with a busy town, not too large or too small. Trendy shops and cafe bars nestled amongst some amazing architecture from many eras. The children picked up more postcards and wrote them straight away at the roadside.

We had to visit the Chateau, if only to gain a view of the Loire, wide even at this point, as it wends its way on to the sea. Of course, closed on a Monday! However, the grounds with the neatly maintained vineyards gave us the view we were looking for...

Lunch at Montreuil-Bellay

Further up the road, we began to get a little peckish and pulled into the beautiful mediaeval town of Montreuil-Bellay. Quiet at the best of times and certainly on a Monday.

Nevertheless, we spotted a beautiful location for a lazy picnic by the river for later in the holidays, plus an inviting crazy golf course which has been built in part from old carved chunks of masonry from the ruins of the large monastery which still dominates the town.

Clambering up the steps by the thick town-walls we were met with a few locals milling around the main street. Only one restaurant was open today, L'Escalier Saint Pierre, but we still enjoyed salmon with leek and potatoes plus galettes with bacon followed by crepes, ice-cream and coffee. Service was with a smile and we relaxed as we reflected on some of frostier service we'd received further north in Brittany in years gone by.

On our way back to the car we spotted another nice restaurant (closed on Mondays, bien sur), the Auberge des Isles, with lovely riverside seating a little further along from the crazy golf and pedaloes for hire. We hope to return, but not on a Monday or at a weekend when the town is apparently packed with French weekenders.

Well stone me...

The scars of holidays in France, Scotland and Cornwall spent touring endless stone circles, quoits, fogous and other ancient relics have only just faded for Grace. You can, therefore, imagine her delight when we spotted some sizeable Dolmens near the roadside as we passed through the village of Taize.

Of course, it would have been rude to simply pass them by. We were rewarded with four fantastic and well maintained examples of these neolithic chambers.