In early October 2000, I took a 'cheapo' flight from Stansted down to Carcassonne
in Southern France. My good friend, Margaret, a retired teacher, always makes me
most welcome there. Meeting me at Carcassonne's tiny airport, she took me to her
home in the tiny village of Cazelles, some 40 kilometres away.
It is always a fascinating trip, and this was no exception. Cycling, eating
and drinking wine are three of my favourite pastimes, especially when in France.
It all began at Stansted, gateway to Ryanairs Europe.
All aboard on a sunny October day in 2000.
A few hours later and I'm in Cazelles, a
tiny village in the foothills of the Massif Central with a dramatic sunset
The following morning is fresh and clear. A
Bougainvillea by Margaret's kitchen door.
and across the road, juicy black grapes.
I cycle down to the bread shop past the
Co-operatif where the Vendenger (grape gathering) has begun.
It has been a long, hot, dry summer. the
river bed is dry, but then it is for much of the year!
I return via one of my favourite rides giving
great views across the countryside.
Two of David and Janets daughters are helping
Margaret in the kitchen for a dinner party that is to be held that evening.
David and Janet Hill are on their way to Spain and have
called in to Cazelles en route.
There is time for a walk for us all to work
up an appetite.
En route, we see a family picking grapes.
and a strange miscellany of abandoned
vehicles
Dinner is served, the wine flows and the photographer
takes fuzzy shots.
The next day I am up at dawn
and soon after breakfast am off to
explore...
...an old dead tree...
...an orchid growing out of the tarmac at the side of the
road.
...a shady avenue...
but always home for lunch at 12 prompt. Or
else...
