Monthly Archives: April 2025

I have no idea how I managed to drive four fighting les enfants through the French countryside by myself 25 years ago without a GPS, in a vehicle they christened the Death Mobile. I must have been totally deranged to even consider it, or maybe, it was because I was 25 years younger and thought I could do anything.

Now, I cannot do anything without the magnificence of Apple. Given the state of the world, I realise I should choke on that, but the wonderful Apple CarPlay has been directing me around all day – even off D roads. She has taken me across country, up and down goat tracks that are barely wide enough for a car, let alone those damn thundering trucks. My brilliant Apple watch is the best thing I bought with me as it makes navigating oh so easy, in a vehicle, a bike, or on foot. While the fabulous maps automatically pin the car wherever I park it, I have an AirTag in the car that has proved to be invaluable when I had the car parked in the back blocks of Cahors. ‘Find my AirTag’ and the directions are super easy – rather handy to find my way back to the hotel in Berlin too.

While my fabulous collection of Apple paraphernalia accompanied me today, it was all very out of place at the Château de Castelnaud and Château de Beynac. I have been trying so hard to get my head around masculine and feminine nouns, but there was no doubt that the walls of both of these immense feudal ochre stone piles were well and truly saturated with centuries of massive testosterone. I am sure it is because I have been reading far too much dragon porn, but I was sure I saw a massive dragon flying past the wooden hoardings gallery.

This is Chocolat country, or where part of it was filmed, but after a serious dose of armour, the trebuchet, the couillard, and a million cross bows, it will be the 1332 Hundred Years War that I will dream about tonight rather than Juliette or Johnny (I do love that film).

So, I needed to find a fairy princess château and definitely found that at the beautiful Les Jardins Suspendus de Marqueyssac. The Château has been in the same family since 1692, and the gardens are beyond stunning. It was so hot in the sun, but I had the most fabulous time with the peacocks hiding in the maze and the most beautiful late lunch sitting on the lovely terrace.

I can’t believe that I am writing this, but I even loved the drive back along millions of winding roads with the setting sun on the stone buildings reinforcing that it is indeed fairytale country (despite the warring feuds).  

I don’t like driving at the best of times, but here, I just have to pull up my Bridget Jones undies and try and be a grown up. The constant chant – me in the middle – does help with getting the right-side thingy through my head. Sort of OK with that, (not really), BUT – it is this spatial thing on the road that my brain just does not compute.

Last time I drove in Europe, I reckon I hit every curb. I have been known to drive down the wrong way of one-way streets, have driven into restaurants with diners happily eating at lovely check table clothed tables (when I thought it was a road), panicked at roundabouts, and driven like the grandma that I am. BUT, what is the issue with my brain that just can’t figure out where the damn car is sitting on the road? Here there are no curbs, and some of the driving I have been doing, no guard rail just a sheer drop. If I can see a white line in the middle, maybe I am somewhat better, BUT – here an absence of white lines on many roads. OMG – I have to force myself not to close my eyes when trucks thunder past on narrow rural roads. Why do I think that holding my breath will help?  I reckon I have almost worn out the Saint blessings. It is sort of like playing online Mahjong (that I am addicted to) where I have to watch an unexciting video to get more tiles. Here, I have to keep popping into the church next door and hoping that this will refill my Saint blessings.

I have settled into my lovely maison, where I have a whole village to myself. There is literally no-one here and I have walked so many kms where I rarely see anyone. The main street is completely empty, and I reckon I have seen no more than five cars driving. I assume it will change as Easter approaches. It is fabulous staying in a house, with 20-30cm wide floorboards, steps that have survived thousands of stomping feet, armoires that are touching the massive beams, and shutters that completely close out the world. At the same time, it is fabulous having a brilliant stove, fast wifi, great heating, and a brand new TV. I am loving the shutters as I don’t think I have slept so well in ages. I am also loving no clock needed. The church bells tell me to wake up, eat lunch, and have dinner.

One of my favourite things to do when I travel is to wander around supermarkets. I pulled into the massive Carrefour in Toulouse and was completely overwhelmed by the sheer size. Le boucher, le poissonnerie, and marchand de fromages with their wielding knives was beyond entertaining. Talking about my appalling French – made the crappiest muffins that almost poisioned me as I didn’t buy levure chimique like I was supposed to, but instead piled in the bicard soda – note to self – use Google Translate and taste before spooning in. Today’s French was very funny. I far prefer the little Carrefour in Montcuq as the staff are lovely and I don’t have a panic attack with the overwhelming size. After the baking powder disaster decided I would make lemon tart. Wandered down the hill with my basket. The lovely young woman at the checkout came in from her cigarette break to serve me and was beyond pleasant. Her English was about the same as my French. I was trying to explain to her could I please have coins as I needed them for the loo when I was out driving. Most places take cards for everything except the loo. I stupidly left my bag of euro coins at home. The poor woman in the Carrefour thought I needed the loo and was so helpful in wanting to escort me. We eventually worked out (with my appalling French and mime) that I needed change for my wad of euro. She laughed so much when I told her I was old and loos were exceptionally important. Well, I hope that is what I said – hmmmm – guess she could have been laughing at my appalling French or maybe I said something completely rude. No idea – but feel like I have made a friend.

It was quicker to fly in and out of the UK for my Berlin soiree, so I arrived back at Heathrow quite late in the evening. The comfortable Sofitel is oh so convenient in Terminal 5. Was a super easy transfer over early in the morning to Terminal 3 for my Toulouse flight. Nothing like a good English BA lounge breakfast to start the day. Make that, also to end the day, as always so hearty you don’t need to eat again.

My flight to Toulouse was once again so civilised. A very warm welcome as a QFF and have been so lucky so far with all BA flights, always my own row. There was hardly time to read a few pages of my latest dragon soft porn before an easy landing into Toulouse in brilliant sunshine.

Oh, the joy though of picking up a car. What a saga. I was worried about driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road as haven’t done it for a while, but that was the least of my problems. I just needed a car that would drive. The car I had booked they couldn’t find (??? not sure how you can lose a car). Second choice was a little mini with racing stripes (I will really stand out in Montcuq). Lovely Avis man kept telling me it was electric, but why would it have a fuel tank ?? Got in the mini (definitely petrol), figured out how to drive it (sort of) and headed out of the carpark (amazing that I remembered the code to get out). Next thing, the car is screaming at me in French, and it was like no driving I have ever experienced. Figured out (OMG) which side I had to park on, and yes, tyre completely flat. I have no idea how I managed to get the car back into the carpark. By this time, I was feeling slightly stressed. Man scratched his head as they had no more cars. He did point at a hire bus to me, but no French was needed – he could tell I was unimpressed by my massive finger waving – Non Non Non. He sighed, shrugged, and said I would have to take a new car. I was so relieved to be tossed the keys to a new little hatch with 30kms on the clock. When I got in and the Apple CarPlay worked, I thanked every French Saint I could remember – of course, Saint Joan of Arc first (I do love Orléans).  

My last visit to Montcuq – never been forgotten. Totally lost in the dark with four children. Credit card wouldn’t work, no petrol, no fuel station that would take cash, gendarme in Montauban, drive down dark, terrifying lane, Lyd convinced we were about to be murdered. This time, drive through Montauban in brilliant sunshine. Of course, I drove like a grandma – well a respectable 100km an hour, but still had cars whizzing past so damn fast I couldn’t tell the colour.

My last encounter with French toll roads was terrifying (four kids in the car fighting made it more terrifying). Dutifully collected my ticket, drove the 50km or so to the next barrier. Put my ticket in, tapped my credit card, barrier went up. No charge on my credit card which has me slightly worried, but lovely Kate and John who were walking their Bichon in the Montcuq fading light reassured me that barrier doesn’t ever move if payment not OK.

I worship at the Chapel of Apple and the lovely CarPlay directed me to the beautiful village in the Lot. The massive key worked and once I had the shutters open and the kettle on, I felt slightly more human. I have not slept more than three hours at a time without constant waking up but my first night cosseted away in the dark with the shutters closed to the world – woke up maybe ten hours later to the church bells. The sun reflecting off the beautiful limestone, the super quiet tiny village (I think I am the only one here), and the spectacular countryside out the window – the world seemed slightly more on its axis (before I turned on BBC news and then the world felt like a scary place – I quickly turned it off).