Monbert

This morning at Fresnay Sur Sarthe, we were surprised by the early morning chill, a reminder that summer was slowly slipping away. We left around ten, with most of our journey passing through acres and acres of fields, now brown and bare, after relinquishing their crops. In one, small town, a ladies clothing shop displayed its wares on mannequins outside. But really, a red basque with suspenders, in the heart of agriculture!

Around lunchtime, we stopped in a bustling town, to take a look at a stall selling live fowl. Cute, soft, fluffy geese, chickens, guinea fowl and pheasants. All of the birds looked in very good health, and sat patiently in their cages waiting to be bought. A young couple bought some of the chickens, but their daughter of around three years old, would have liked a cuddly yellow goose chick.

Shortly after, we stopped for lunch at a lovely picnic spot in a small wooded area in the town of Angrie. Before we left, John gathered some dry wood for the barbecue we would be having this evening.

Before arriving at Monbert, we stopped to photograph a restored windmill, and then called in at a supermarket to buy a camembert and weigh our gas cylinder. Yes, that's correct, after communicating through Google translate, the lady on the customer services desk, said we could weigh our gas cylinder on the fruit and vegetable scales, it's the only way to tell how much gas is left in the cylinder, and as we are not sure how easy it will be to buy a replacement in Spain or Portugal, quite a bizarre, but important exercise.

Arriving at Odile's and Philippe's campsite, we were surprised how busy it was. But a place was found for Marge under the trees. Shortly after arriving, we walked into town, noticing how arid the ground was, and how much the water had receded in the fishing lake adjacent to the campsite.

This evening has been both relaxing and enjoyable, although Odile did seem a little bothered by the height of the flames as John lit the barbecue. We know he has previous with the fire brigade, but on this occasion no need to call the Pompiers. Whilst our food was cooking, we talked with an Englishman, who said how nice it was to now be able to afford good French wine, unlike when he was younger. In our case, cheap, low alcohol wine reigns for Angela as the driver of Marge, save the good stuff for home! Our neighbours opposite on the campsite, were a couple in their seventies, he slightly eccentric. As the gunshot of a cork popping rang through the trees, he proceeded to tell his wife "that the fish should take fifteen minutes, and then to plate up' Her reply, " Why don't you b----r off! Always excellent entertainment, older person, alcohol and in this case, the cooking of fish! Thank god for these characters, we couldn't write this blog without them.

Our first exchange library found on this trip. On a walk into the village by the side of a lake miles from nowhere!