A few miles after we started our meander to Spain we passed the lovely little thatched house in the quite sizeable village of Stewkley where my sister used to live many, many years ago and where, if my memory serves me correctly, two of her three children were born.
Clearly, the current owners are taking good care of it as, from the outside anyway, it looked in beautiful condition.
Our first stop was in Claygate, Surrey where my daughter, Sammy lives with her husband and their totally crazy Jack Russell who clearly thought the window cleaner’s brush was fair game to be attacked, albeit from the safety of the other side of the window.
I have never been particularly fond of small dogs – and terriers in particular- but I have to say that, in between some serious bouts of canine madness, Boo is really quite sweet!
And obviously loved by Sammy.
During our two night stay in Claygate, Nokky was persuaded to cook a Thai meal for the four of us. Luckily, the local Waitrose had most of the ingredients required so we were able to enjoy a most memorable oriental feast,
none of which had to be cooked on the Aga, much to the delight of Mrs F who couldn’t really understand why such an old fashioned style of cooking could possibly be popular in the 21st century!
Our final stopover before boarding our ferry was a visit to one of my oldest friends who owns what he claims to be the largest independent Jaguar dealership in the country. The price of many of these vehicles is quite eye watering but some of the more classic Jags he has for sale are equally quite mouth watering
as was these two fine Dungeness lobsters he served up as a snack before we went to his local pub for a meal!
The first part of our journey through France was totally forgettable. A 1.5 hour ferry delay, filthy weather and a satnav that didn’t initially work across the channel hardly put us in the best of moods, especially as the further south we got, the colder it became – and in early August too!
Luckily, the weather had improved somewhat by the time we reached the village of Mouleydier just a few kilometers east of Bergerac and home to my oldest friend, Maurice.
The Dordogne is a beautiful part of France. Seemingly endless rolling hills with the Dordogne river itself as the centrepiece are full of small, barely inhabited villages where time seems to stand still but often contain hidden gems,
one of which contained this quite quirky restaurant where we whiled away a few hours in typically French style. Lovely!
Our onward southern journey meandered past an abundance of sunflowers, just passed their best and just before harvest time, field after field of sweetcorn plus, of course, the inevitable vineyards
before our climb up and over the Pyrenees where the air was so sweet and the sky so blue.
On our descent into Spain, the temperature finally rose.
Our final night’ stopover was in the ancient city of Zarogossa. It’s hard to believe that this big city which, to all intents and purposes is in the middle of nowhere, was overrun and inhabited by the Moors from Northern Africa hundreds of years ago.
Quite what the statues of Rhinos in the main square are meant to symbolise is totally beyond me!
We arrived at our destination after a final 4 1/2 drive the following day in beautiful weather with the promise of many more to come –
– a very welcome change from the weather we left behind in the UK and northern France and another reminder as to why I bought the place all those years ago.
In few days time, our first guests arrive. So, after lot of driving and living out of small suitcases, it’s time to chill.
Until the next time.
R
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