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A belated entry. Date 15th May 2009
We have ridden home after another convivial lunch at Le Gensac. Dydiane and Rosemary came by car. We had admired the fragrant yellow flowering shrubs in the restaurant garden. Jeanne, the owner, says they are forsythia. We don't think so but maintain diplomatic silence because we are promised cuttings for our garden. A lady at a nearby table is not so reticent and says she doesn't know what it is, but it isn't forsythia. Jeanne says it is, but has more important things to do. She comes back with our bottle of St Emilion.
Back at Le Grand Lieu, a short tea break is taken, after which Peter and John set off for Sauze Vaussais to forage for the evening meal. The direct route is via the D19 which has traffic. In addition to the bread, cheese, crevettes, apple tart and wine, John buys a map so the return trip can be on quieter roads.
From Sauze Vaussais we head east along the lanes via Theil to the village of Montalembert, where Dydiane's late father was born. In the square by the church the 1914-1918 war memorial bears the name of Dydiane's grandfather - Rene Lamy - killed at the battle of the Somme. Leon Lamy, possibly a cousin, is also remembered.
As we leave Montalembert, two large black dogs come out of a hedge. They pursue us, barking loudly, for a hundred yards or so, after which, thankfully, they give up the chase.
The next village is Londigny, through which flows the river Peruse. There's also a chateau here somewhere, but we can't find it. Pausing by a hedge to consult the map, we are surprised by rustling and scratching on the other side. Eventually a large but very friendly bulldog emerges from the undergrowth. Soon followed by an equally large and cheerful companion.
After reassuring noises are exchanged between men and beasts, John looks again at the map. Meanwhile Peter draws attention to the fact that our canine friends are eagerly contemplating a fine supper of the baguettes strapped to the back of John's bike, and the fine smelling crevettes and cheese in the panier!
French dogs do not respond the word "Shoo" - possibly because it sounds like the french for cabbage, which may well have doggy connotations of 'meat and two veg'. To avoid any possibility of becoming part of the meal ourselves, we discreetly ride away, leaving two wistful bulldogs to gaze at the disappearing supper.
Although the castle has eluded us, we glimpse one of the impressive towers pushing up through a clump of trees in the distance. (We did find it the following week when Juliette was with us, and it's well worth another ride sometime).
Sadly this was Peter and Rosemary's last evening with us, but we hope they'll be back soon.
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