This morning we cancelled Marge's planned surgery for Thursday. After a restless night John wasn't convinced that fitting a new thermostat when she seemed to be running a lot better now, was the right thing to do. Angela had been a little unsure about the procedure. He was a very nice helpful man, but there was something that worried her, John felt the same, worried that changing the thermostat might accidently cause more damage. Damage that would probably be costly to repair. So we're going to risk everything will be O.K. Take the advice given to us and drive Marge only two hours a day, at no more than 50 mph. The forecast today was for warm, but windy weather, with the risk of showers. So we abandoned the idea of cycling to Norauto to buy coolant, and decided to take the bus and metro into the centre of Toulouse. Opposite us on the campsite are a young family. Dad is German, mum is French. They too were heading into town, so we tagged along behind them to the nearby bus stop to ensure we caught the right bus and boarded the right train. We'd mastered the bus and tram travelling in Bordeaux, and now it was time to try the bus and underground train.
With the help of the family, instructing us like a couple who needed, care at our ripe old ages, we made it. All we had to do now was remember how to return back to the campsite. We consider Toulouse to be a city of two parts. The Toulouse where smart apartments overlook bustling streets of expensive retail outlets and restaurants, and the idyll of the live aboard Dutch barges that are moored for miles along the canal. Then there is the Toulouse that a lot of visitors don't see, but we have, because we've cycled the canal here a few times. Tarpaulin city, is how Angela describes it. Tents, and make shift shelters in amongst the trees and under the road bridges. Where disused pallets provide platforms to fend off the wet and cold that creeps into your bones from the ground below. Where, if you're lucky a supermarket shopping trolley houses your worldly goods. We remember the very first time we came to Toulouse and how saddened we were to witness how these people lived. We can't imagine what it must be like, and how unsafe it probably is.
Today though we were tourists, here to take in the sights, visiting convents and chapels, crossing bridges, window shopping and lunching at a Vietnamese street food restaurant where we ate the best meal out so far on this trip.
As one of our grandsons would say, 'it was delicious'. Tomorrow we will set off again, travelling just an hour up the road. As always we will have everything crossed that Marge hangs in there.
