Joi de vie revient!

 Yes, the old joi de vie returned today for both of us. No more comments such as "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" or "This is a growing time" or "It's character building " It's hard to say why the sudden shift, really. Today was billed to be pretty well as hard as yesterday but we seemed to get into a different zone. The first twenty miles still climbed a lot and we still had to climb about 3,500 feet in all today. Mind you, the weather had switched from European holiday weather to UK weather. Cloudy skies with outbreaks of sun and distinctly cooler temperatures rising to a high of just twenty degrees. I suppose this is the sort of weather we can function in. We got into low gears and plodded steadily up the big climbs  on a day that we knew was going to feel more remote than all the other days. We passed through Montron after just six miles and bought lunch as well as stopping for a pain au chocolat and a hot chocolate from a vending machine at the entrance to a supermarket. With food on board both internally and in the panniers we just hoped that we might pass the odd bar tabac or boulangerie. 

Villages came and went, some with no shops at all and others with shops that had either had enough for the day (it was 11am) or were closed permanently. We noticed a lot of these. Due to Covid, we have been told.

Eventually, we cycled through a village which I thought offered no chance of coming to our aid with coffee and cake but right in the middle (in other words, near the church) was 'Chez Alice'. We sat at a little table outside and Alice came over. With a long floaty skirt, tattoos, long wavy hair and a whimsical look in her eyes, she bore all the hallmarks of someone who enjoyed being 'on the fringe'. She had set up a very nice coffee shop which was 'not for profit'. Because of this, we had to join her club. This consisted of adding a euro to the price of each coffee and filling in a form giving away all our personal details. The coffees came to a total of €6. Still €3 cheaper than the ones in Bordeaux.

I then bought a crackin apple crumble from the shop next door.

On a remote stretch of road, my phone rang. Somebody wanted to know about their Spofforth Parish Magazine. For those that don't know, I distribute the parish magazine each month. It's not uncommon for me to receive a phone call from someone in a state of panic because they received two mags instead of one. I told a friend that I had volunteered my services and he pointed out that, "No good work ever goes unpunished". 

The odd thing about this incident for me, was speaking to someone from a French field about their plight of not knowing the name of their particular deliverer. Technology is an expert discombobulater. I freed my mind of parish magazines and we continued. 

Having seen hardly a soul all day, we suddenly descended into a honey trap called Ansac. It is on the river Vienne and seemed to have attracted every Brit for miles. We stopped on the ancient picturesque bridge and I bought a red fruits tart. I really have been a very naughty boy today. Kate was good, as ever.

The rain held off despite some close calls (like water coming out of the sky) until mid afternoon. The capes came back out. Then we spotted a café and suddenly felt like a coffee. The staff watched us park the bike (never straight forward) and get our belongings sorted, then when we walked in they told us that they were desolated that they were now closed. A nearby Australian leapt to the rescue, as they do in such cases, and told us about a shack right across the road. We sat under a canopy with coffees and the heavens opened. We enjoyed sitting in the presence of a young person vibe, complete with edgy 70s music such as Ian Dury,s 'Hit me with your rhythm stick', whilst the rain pelted whatever it could pelt, including our tandem. There was something very restful about it all. Even when Ian Dury was entertaining us with his blockheads. 

We are now guests in a remote house up a very big hill (which we shall have the pleasure of cycling down again tomorrow.)

Getting here involved playing cat and mouse with the rain. Everytime there was a cloudburst, we would cower somewhere. Either a tree or the awning of a shop or, just before arriving at our destination, a barn in someone's farm. The farmer would probably have turfed us out but we managed to cower successfully. 

We were still early when we arrived at chambre d'hote d'Arrabella. We were starting to get wet and hoped Arabella, who turned out to be Tia, would let us in early. Just after ringing the bell, we both suddenly realised that neither of us could remember the French for early! The door opened and we both began to stammer. The host smiled and said, "It's alright, I'm English."  She is vague and uncomplicated and accommodating and made us a Caribbean green curry which was very tasty. She turned the other guest away because the room she would have been in sprang a leak. I'm glad we weren't the 'other guest', although I gather she hadn't booked. We are now over half way and it feels like we have traversed a watershed known as the Perigord region. It was beautiful but hilly. We are hoping for beautiful but unhilly as we get to know the river Vienne more tomorrow

            Coffee under a cover just before the heavens                           opened.

              View down the Vienne

              Naughty boy avec gateaux

              Good girl sans gateaux

                  Chez Alice

           Naughty boy avec gateaux deux!