A light breeze wafts over Camping du Lac de Saint Pardoux carrying a freshness that signals a ten degree drop in the temperature forecast for the day. The prospect is as refreshing as the breeze itself.
It is still warm enough to sit out on the deck. The bushes that separate the “Premium” chalet from the lake are rustling and there is movement on the surface of the water that was not present yesterday. As I write the dawn has arrived and the birds are chattering.
Ordinarily I might look up Saint Pardoux but on this occasion my levels of curiosity are very low to negligible so I’ll leave it to you if you so choose. Something to do with the lake?
During our stint here in France we noticed a few Aires, roadside services and parking spots, named after saints. An ignominious memorial if ever there was one. The further south we ventured the fewer such Aires we saw. Not sure what that tells us.
Yesterday the three remaining tourists visited the Oradure Sur Glane memorial village. The site of a massacre during the second world war. Nazis striking out as their war entered its final phase. I was a reluctant visitor but the others wanted to go and I guess I am glad I went. The ruined village, left wrecked as it was after the atrocity, really was a reminder of the horror of war. I felt uncomfortable walking around.
The heat of the day, in the thirties, took its toll and we moved on to the campsite, the pool and the lake. We had an early meal, ably cooked by Ajax on his teppanyaki grill and early to bed. A month or more of rugby touring starting to have an effect.
This post, written by the side of the lake, will probably have been uploaded in La Rochelle. There is next to no connectivity here although I did manage to book a hotel for the Tuesday night and the Caen to Portsmouth ferry next week.
Tonight I return to Hotel en Ville where THG and I stayed on our way down. Being later in the season it is half the previous price and a bargain considering you were served up one of the best breakfasts of the trip.
Funny that the current temperature of seventeen degrees I still consider to be t shirt territory. Half thought about digging out my fleece but that would involve walking the twenty metres to the car:)
At twenty past eight there is no visible movement around the campsite. Ajax got up when I made the tea but then went back to bed and no sign of Jezzer. This very much feels like the actual overdue approach to the end of summer and the onset of an autumn that I know is already well under way at home. However the temperature is set to climb back to the mid twenties by the weekend. Do the French have the concept of Indian Summers?
There are two things I am very much looking forward to when I get home, three if you count seeing THG again (which I do obvs). Our party has been posting pics of them eating fish and chips and walking their dogs, unseen for weeks. Mine will be a proper British takeaway curry on the Wednesday night followed by a cooked breakfast on the Thursday. Fosters back bacon and spicy farmhouse sausage.
I am also quite looking forward to getting on with some work. Whilst I have been doing the odd bit in France the busy season is fast approaching. It’s already there really.