Saint Cast le Guido, Brittany, France

We feel sad that it will soon be time for us to leave France and return home. Just four more days Marge. This morning it was light just before seven. That's the plus side of the clocks going back an hour. Us, we like it the other way around. Clocks go forward an hour, darkness falls an hour later in the evening. It's going to be a long six months until British summer time. Moving further north had paid off. This morning was bright and just before we left mid morning the sun broke through.

Before we left for France, eight weeks ago now, we talked about how cold northern France would be upon our return. Not so, last night was positively balmy, and today the temperature right up there around 20c. Chasing the sun, we decided to venture a little off piste. Instead of heading straight towards the Contentin Peninsula, where the ferry port of Cherbourg sits at the tip, we drove towards the coast slightly east of St. Malo. John feels confident that Marge can be trusted now not to let us down. 

But first a visit to a certain chateau. A quick photograph of Marge out front, and we were on our way. We are now on the coast of Brittany. Who'd have thought it Marge? Angela certainly didn't. John probably did. Marge has hung in there, and behaved well since we left Toulouse to slowly head back north. The weather here this afternoon has been beautiful.

The beach area was busy, as was the town and the Aire.

From the Aire we have beautiful views across the bay and along the Brittany coast. As darkness fell, we sat on a bench looking out as lights flickered into life along roads and in homes. A drink in hand, we talked of our trip, deciding the high-lite was our visit to the old submarine pens at Bordeaux to see the light show.  If it hadn't been for troublesome Marge we'd never had seen it. So, some good, can come from something bad.

Saint Jean sur Mayenne, France

It was sad to leave the Loire this morning. Our visit had been briefer than we'd hoped, but the forecast was for yet more rain and we knew the weather would be better if we ventured a little further north. Here we go again Marge. A quick stop at a supermarket for a few supplies to keep us going for a day or so, was a real attack on Angela's brain. To us, it's late summer/ early autumn, not Christmas. As you enter the supermarket an array of orange and black greets you. Yes we know it's almost Halloween. Then, a curtain of red tinsel, behind which was probably a Santa and an elf. Christmas toys, sweets, cards and decorations. No, no, no! It's too early!  Saying that, we have a confession. We did buy a Christmas present for someone two weeks ago, Our journey onward was slow. Lots of traffic, and as always lots of roundabouts every couple of miles. But once again we thought it best to press on in search of more settled weather. So we headed to an Aire at Saint Jean sur Mayenne.

We've stayed on this Aire twice before. It is the towns former municipal campsite, so it has all the facilities of a campsite but at a lesser cost. Just fourteen euros and ten cents per night. As we approached Mayenne, we stopped to view a new state of the art viaduct that had recently been constructed across the river Mayenne.

Over the top ran the road bridge, and on the underside you could cross the river by climbing the steps over an archway. A warning sign stipulated three conditions as to why it may not be wise for you to climb the hundreds of steps. One of them was, 'may not be suitable for persons who suffer from vertigo'. Which is why Angela was O.K. walking up, but needed to hold Johns hand to descend. Honestly, she's becoming a right old nanny. Clocks go back an hour tonight Marge, so hopefully we'll all catch up on some rest. Tomorrow is chateau time! Yes, we're a few miles from Dick and Angel's place. Come on. A photograph of Marge outside the front of the chateau, it has to be done. Sadly Dick and Angel are on tour in England at the moment, so they won't get to see her. We think if Dick was at home, he'd be very impressed by our Marge. We are. Not far to go now Marge. You're on the home run. Keep it going old gal.

And tonight for our evening meal Mexican chicken with couscous cooked on the electric griddle!

Chouze sur Loire, France

This morning's thunderstorm didn't materialise as forecast. That's three times now we've dodged one. However, just after seven there was a brief spell of rain, but it soon passed. Today we reluctantly left the Ile de Re. If the forecast had been for a fine, dry day, we would have booked onto the campsite for another night. But alas it was not, so we decided to put some miles under our belt and begin the drive north. By mid afternoon the rain fell relentlessly. We'd planned to stop half way to Mayenne, but when we arrived at the Aire, we decided that another fifteen hours of being confined in Marge was pointless, so John decided to drive on. We had been advised by a mechanic in Toulouse almost three weeks ago, that Marge should just take it easy. Two hours of driving and a top speed of fifty miles per hour. She'd already exceeded two hours, and now we were expecting the same again. had we made the right call? The rain persisted and Marge became a 'little leaky', wetting us both. Angela had hoped we'd be able to spend two days alongside the river Loire and that we could go out cycling. No chance.

As we arrived at Samur we could see the fast flowing river was in flood. So there was a chance the cycle path would be flooded in places. We couldn't believe our eyes. This couldn't be the same river Loire we'd witnessed last May, when the water level was so low, you could walk across the shingle banks from one side to the other in places. At Chouze sur Loire, a few miles out of Samur, tired and relieved us and Marge had made it, we stepped out, glad to stretch our legs and took a walk through the town and alongside the river.

The traditional wooden Loire boats looking a little dismal in the rising waters.

Then a visit to the church before returning to Marge. Tired, we opted for cheese and crackers rather than cook. As the nearby church struck eight, once at five minutes to, again on the hour, which is how they do these things in France, we knew tonight would be 'hells bells', which Angela, actually doesn't mind.