The Long Awaited Visit to Duras August 2018

  

PetenRuth and I lost touch after Eric and I split up; at that that time I went, without thinking, with the convention of friends staying with original friends, but this year I visited them in Duras, and it was just like it was back in the day in Blackburn, and Ruth still had the Love Your Weeds book that I gave her back in the 70s. And it was down to Daisy raving about staying with them, and then being in contact on social media, and also my facing up to my fear of flying, that made it possible. [In which I didn't so much lose my fear of flying, but rationalised my fear of death for someone whose youngest children are no longer helpless babies, but young adults in their twenties.] PetenRuth and I did briefly meet in Leeds, but not in any meaningful way. Staying for a week in France was the key. 

Sunday evening/Monday morning train to London, Travelodge on Kings Cross Road, drink in the Northumberland and then another in the Lodge. Gatwick train from St Pancras, three hours early for flight. flight is two hours late. Sit next to Mrs Trivial on the plane. Earphones is the key here. I didn't want to know about her babyminding her grandkids; I dont even want to contemplate minding my own.

art and architecture everywhere in Toulouse

Toulouse

The tram to the Palais du Justice is so easy. I get off at the river and found my street Avenue de Garonnette. 

Settle in, go out for provisions. Overdose on bread, Camembert and cherry tomatoes, only manage one can of beer.

Marmande Station

Tuesday: Wake too early, eat, take a turn around the bridges: Pont Neuf and Pont St Pierre. Have now added two cans of beer to already too heavy luggage. The Garonne. Awesome. To the Gare Toulouse Matabiau via la Place de Capitole [full of armed police/army officers - but scary], finally on the Bordeaux train to disembark at Marmande. 

Here’s Ruth, ear clamped to phone, as it happens. Well sometimes it just happens, and anyway, Ruth has an open-topped car. Oh bliss! Ruth is trying to organise something, and I end up speaking in French to her friend on her [Ruth's] phone. Confused! We all were. 

yes lizard there

It’s only been a decade, or two. Or four. And here’s the swimming pool. Ecstasy. Selfies with lizard and hen. 

Tache

Hannah [Pete's daughter] and her partner, Pete 

[just for confusion!] 

band in Monsegur

are also visiting. I havent seen Hannah since she was three! And PetenRuth have three dogs, which is the absence of my own cats, I am strangely bonding with. The house is a converted barn which they designed themselves, including a giant four glass-door entrance onto a half-covered patio. 

Obviously I should have realised that the doors are not always open as I walk into one of them carrying two cups of tea. Later on I asked Ruth to react this mini-disaster [without any loss of tea or dribbling on windows]. 

Choosing pictures

Wednesday: French Bank Holiday and official end of the summer hols. At lunchtime we take pizza in the beautiful square in Duras, look at some old and vintage cars and bikes including (Oh sigh, oh memories!) two 2 CVs. Buy awesome duck butter dish and a linen nightie. Pose by the cars, pose with  linen nightware.

Looking at this lovely old motorbike I notice two notices written on it in Russian and offer to take away a photo of them to translate them later. Then this woman appears and translates them at the spot. Thanks.

Find a toad in the business end of the swimming pool. It's Hannah who opines that s/he may not be happy stuck there, so I fish her/him out. We all have a cuddle, well both Hannah and I have a quick hug-with-toad [not exactly all]

More swimming. We all nominate our favourite ten pictures for Peter to submit to exhibit at the international Festival coming up in X. Le soir we take a table at the square Monségur, where vegetarianism is not all the rage. Hannah and I decide the cheese galette is a dishcloth (she by the looks, and me by the taste), and I cheer myself up with strawberries and the rock band.

Thursday

More swimming. Hannah cooks. In the evening we walk up to the Chateau for a bit of son et lumière, depicting, on the one side the history of the chateau and on the rear of the building fantastical images under the Sea, prince and princess and some psychedelia.

Friday

Le matin, Hannah, Ruth and I return to Monségur for the market, buy croissants and anklets, then over to the supermarket for provisions. On the way back we stop off to meet Paul, Larkin and Alexis. (Paul has written some of the best tv drama I have ever seen, and it was an honour to be able to tell him so). Larkin and Alexis and I have a general rant about the value of music lessons, and how governments everywhere do not recognise or care about their value.

Excited by bread

Duras sky at night

Have just found out it is Friday. Eek! When did that day go? More swimming. Pete J cooks. Dinner on the patio. Early night. Don’t sleep at all well.

Saturday

Ruth has given us a day off, but I forget.

Rise early, but the nine o’clock start is for for Sunday. Grrr! Go back to bed with a banana, an apricot and a piece of stale croissant. And cuppa tea of course.

Swimming and more swimming. Finish some writing. I think I cook [vegetable stew, of course!] Watch some No Offence and State of Play [to which I am now hooked, and there another five episodes. Oh no!].

Ruth re-enacts my walking into glass door with a tea-tray routine

Sunday is our 9 o’clock start. Four go to Issegeac. Another beautiful little French Town with a market, a Church and architecture to die for.

On way back stop at Eymet for church with old frescoes, then at Monteton, famous for burlesque. I am all sight-seed out, and collapse. Then we all wish Mighty Miggins the Mig Happy Birthday on a selfie vid, and set about collapsing again.

Monday, go for a walk with the dogs around the field, take in another two episodes of State of Play, in the afternoon, take a walk to the Post Office in Duras. This is stupidly hot, yet I did buy the stamps. Le soir we go for a meal in Duras. This is awesome pizza, too big to eat all at once, get the last bit boxed, but fancy a profiterole. Unfeasibly large! See picture!

Unfeasibly large

 At home the last of six State of Play and some selfies with the dog. Tache only agreed if I got on the floor with her.

Tuesday. Hannah and Pete J leave at ten. Then Pete and Ruth drive me to Bordeaux, it’s beautiful, paddle in the fountains by the river, eat,

lunch in Bordeaux

dinner in Duras

 go to airport. Suspect package in a bin. Fire engine, terminals evacuated, They leave. Controlled explosion back into terminal. Now very very crowded. And Bordeaux Airport is a tin shed with not enough seats.

Got to Luton okay, but had foolishly booked a train ticket through Sheffield. You might think that a major London Airport would have good train links, but these were only to London. I couldn't face going south in order to go north, so chose the Sheffield route. I waited an hour. I would have stayed in the Little station cafe but the server had “Happy” by Farrell on a loop on his music system, and worse, he had wandered off so I could be happy [not a description of how I ever feel hearing this irritating little tune] on my own. The East Midlands train became the Marie Celeste as we shed passengers going north; I didn’t even have the relief of the ticket collector saying Can I see your ticket please. There were no refreshments at all. I gazed lovingly and longingly at machines full of e numbers as we stopped at this and that station on our elongated route North. When Georgia picked me up at the station at 11 o’clock, I had been traveling for 12 hours, was dehydrated and my back ached. I settled onto the sofa and binge-watched the last two episodes of Unforgotten.