St Martin d'Estreaux
In the morning it was cool but sunny patches and warm enough to eat
breakfast outside, and for me to wear my prescription sunglasses, giving
my eyes a break from the contacts. We attracted the curiosity of an old
French man who came along wheeling a wonderful old fashioned wooden wheelbarrow, and asking
the name of our dog. He told us he knew all the dogs in the village, and
wondered were we German, because, before he retired, he had two German
directors in his company. He thought they were wonderful. He chatted away pleasantly, then
offered us vegetables from his garden nearby, so I went along with the
children who were delighted with his rock collection (including some
fossils) from all over the world, just sitting about on the paths and
low tables in the garden. He brought me tons of carrots and leeks and a
turnip, and gave me a knife and a bucket of freezing water to wash them
off in. At this point he started giving me instructions, and we dubbed
him the French Grandad. He also had a tiny row of vines with a few
grapes left that he was determined to give us, despite many of them
beginning to rot and covered with mould. We begged some leau chaud for our tea, and
as with the previous time, it was barely boiling from the hot tap in
his boiler room! He assured me it was hot enough for tea. Mike and I are
keen to find a little bottle of gaz for our small cooker or a plug in
12v electric kettle so we can have a proper cup of tea without unloading
the large cooker.
The children were still hungry, as we were running low on supplies for
breakfast. So I asked our new friend was the patisserie close by? He
assured me there was one with wonderful patisseries, but I definitely
shouldn't eat their bread, as it was terrible. Instead I should look for
one nearer the church, where the bread was marveaux. On investigation,
however, both were shut so I foolishly took 4 starving children instead
a small French supermarket. They wanted everything in sight. As soon as
I put one small box of sweet cereal from a child's hands, another had
grasped a packet of sweets or popcorn. No doubt the assistant was
grateful when I finally herded them out with croissants, baguettes and
things for lunch,
During the evening drives, Mike and I have taken to munching olives
and cheese with bread as apertives, but have to resist the temptation to
open a bottle of wine with it.
We set off again around noon to look for something for the children
to do for the afternoon. Complicated interchange accidentally put us on
a highway, though signposted Valence, actually headed first towards
Lyon.
Vienne
We decided to stay on as far as Vienne, a nice city on the Rhone.
We found a nice playground and later a cafe with pizza and yummy
patisseries. But the bit that Mike & I were most excited by, was the
steaming hot tea.
By this point, we were more than thrilled with how well the children had
been doing in the van. They played games with soft toys and teddies,
tiny finger puppet donkey starred as the actor from Shrek, they played
tapes, read books, Rosa put on shows for Finn if he showed signs of
failing, using his bear. They drew pictures and remained in amazingly
good form throughout. At each stop, they made up games outside using
nothing at all or once, a spare tyre from Mike's bike. It was like an old
fashioned hoop, and entertained them for ages. However, Mike and I were
started to fray at the edges. So we picked up a camping brochure for the
area and picked out an area where there were several open year-round and
headed that way. Mike dove.
Vinsorbes
Things did not go according to plan. The first campsite had a lovely
view, of a nuclear power station! It seemed early enough in the evening
to press on to the next in Vinsorbes, but unfortunately, on arrival, the
gates were shut - earlier than it said on the sign. We had telephoned but
missed reception and there was no one in sight. We headed to a municipal
campground that also was supposed to be open. It wasn't, so we parked
outside its gate and spent the coldest night so far in the camper,
breaking out all the extra blankets.
The morning wasn't too bad until the wind picked up, and then I realised
which wind. Of course it was the infamous mistral, and it froze us to a
fast exit. We decided, since the edges were a little more frayed, to pay paege. The landscape leaving that region of Drone, made us keen to
return in the spring, when the vineyards should have new buds and the
mistral would hopefully have stopped blowing through the medieval villages.
