Provence - Thursday 30th June

LT was really bad today, she took hardly any photos of me at all!  Doesn’t she realise that I’m a star, and that I must be photographed many times in a day?!  (Uh, yeah, I’ll get right on that... – LT)

Anyway, today we didn’t do very much.  LT and I wandered into the village in the morning (WE wandered?  I think I wandered, and you hitched a lift! – LT) Semantics...  Anyway we wandered in and got things for lunch and dinner, and we hiked all the way up to the church at the top of the hill in the village, just to prove that you couldn’t see some hills from it.  I’m not sure why we needed to prove that exactly... (because there looked like there would be a good sunset behind them if you could find the right viewpoint – LT)  We got the biggest tomatoes you have ever seen for dinner, but again, LT failed and didn’t take a photo.  They were at least 3 times the size of me! (For once he isn’t exaggerating – LT)

In the afternoon LT’s mum and dad went to the local ‘cave’.  Um, why were they in a cave? (‘cave’ is French for a cellar, so it basically means a very big wine shop – LT)  What?  And they didn’t take me?! (We’re getting a little worried about your alcohol consumption! – LT)  Huh!  Instead I had to go all the way up the hill in the other direction from the village to see if you could see these hills from there.  Guess what, you can’t, think we needed a 4 mile round trip for that?!  Not to mention the fact that all the way there LT was trying to perfect her French for explaining how road accidents occurred (the road was very narrow, there were a few points we could have got squished! – LT)

Here I am at the top anyway, with what passed for a drink for us.  Alas, it didn’t turn into wine miraculously:

Opposite the view point there was a house for sale.  We briefly discussed buying it, but it seemed to need a lot of work on it, as it was missing chunks of roof, doors and windows...

On the way back, LT moved past road accidents to rant about, among other things, Alex Salmond, the ridiculousness of Scottish Independence, explaining to a random Dutch woman why she needed to drive more carefully, in several languages – not actually to the woman herself, you understand, and finally why just because it was rush hour didn’t mean people could zoom up lanes from the side of the main road and nearly knock you down.  In French again.  I’m waiting for the men in the little white coats that I’ve heard about to come and take her away. ..