The story of a Walled City, a nail and a tyre 😳

Woke up this morning to another lovely sunny day - striking while the iron was hot, decided to make our way down to Villefranche-de-Conflent - a walled city in the Catalan region of France. So all sorted and off we go. Such a lovely day so that made it a beautiful drive. We got down to Villefranche quite quickly, passing various little towns built into the rocks on either side of the road. Very pretty - and what we now know for sure is that the acre upon acre of trees here with the prettiest pink blossom are Peach trees - we ended up with a little competition on Facebook to see if anyone knew what they were - after many offerings, only one person guessed correctly and that was my friend Helga who does actually live in France. So she got first prize - haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I’m popping in to see her when we start our long drive home across France. Villefranche is a walled city. The ramparts around the city have a roof all along it - the only one of its kind. This was to protect the inhabitants from danger via the high mountains that surround the town from attack. It is indeed a UNESCO world heritage site and, the first thing that strikes you, is how immaculately clean it is. We did arrive around 10.30 so we were very early and had a little wonder around the streets and absorbed some of the history which was, to be honest, a bit gory. Stories of kiss and tell, and the terrible consequences of that which ended up with the father of the young lady in question, being tortured and beheaded, then the head was displayed on the ramparts as a lesson to all, along with a few others citizens. We again couldn’t get into the church which I was really disappointed about this time because it looked amazing. Even the steps into it were worn into a deep curve where many feet had tread for Centuries. Anyway we ended up visiting the little cafe for coffee on the way out of the city. I needed to use the ‘facilities’ before we moved on and, as I asked the patron if I could use the toilet, he said yes and indicated the route down some very dark stairs. Within a moment he clapped his hands like some Spanish dancer and all the lights went on automatically. It did make me smile because it brought back a memory for me. It was in the days when we bought our little cottage on the river. It was a two up, two down arrangement but it had a kitchen stuck on the back with the bathroom, which had been a later addition in the early 1900’s. With the bathroom just off the kitchen, we realised it would be much nicer to build a little extension for a garden room and bathroom. All singing, all dancing was how we designed and built it. So all the conveniences were, shall we say, very modern, compared to the rest of the cottage. The building of this extension took a long time as these things do, but I found this beautiful white roll top bath and we bought it. Alan set it on a plynth and put lighting throughout the area which automatically came on with movement, and went off again once activity ceased. Now, I didn‘t really understand this concept at the time which will become blindingly obvious when you read on. Time passes, the extension and bathroom are finished and Alan is ensconced in front the telly in the lounge. I run my first bath. Heaven - hot, deep and absolutely wonderful I thought as I sank into my gorgeous bath - as the coloured lights above my head swirled their gentle waves of red, blue, green, yellow and I closed my eyes to take it all in and relax. Anyway, blissfully soaking in my bubbly hot bath I suddenly became aware that all the lights had gone out. Now, from my position in the bath, I could just see the kitchen lights were still on, and I could hear the telly in the distance. So I revert to type and shout “Alan!” Nothing. “Alan!!!!!” “What!” comes the reply - “All the lights have gone out”. “Wave yer arms” comes the reply, and magically all my beautiful swirly lights come back to life. We have laughed about that one over the years as you can well imagine.

Anyway, lovely coffee - actually I ended with a Catalan Pale Ale - don’t ask! Alan thought he understood what the waitress had asked him, and I get a Pale Ale and a bowl of crisps at 11.30 in the morning - actually, it was very nice, very bitter, but nice and very strong - reminded me of Barley Wine, but I think I am showing my age here so I shall move on.

En route to Villefranche Alan noticed a ramshackle little cafe bar type thing on a dusty track so he asked if I was game for a spot of lunch in said lay-by - could be fun he said. Yes, I’m game so in we go. Well we ended up with a baguette (another b......y baguette I hear my bathroom scales shout from deepest darkest Cornwall where they sit awaiting my return - emphasis on weight!). Well, the baguette contained a slice of ham and a tomato so not exactly haute cuisine - the saving grace was the bowl of chips which were home made and absolutely lush. Well, it filled a hole. We stopped for diesel, and to fill up the gas tank, which has been an absolute godsend and made our way back to site - around 3pm I reckon. Anyway, thank goodness Alan decided to refresh the drinking water tank in the van. As he stood waiting for the tank to fill he glanced at the front left tyre and noticed it had a rather large nail protruding from it and the tyre was on its way to being flat. We did a quick google map check and there was a Tyre Depot just down the road where we had just got the diesel. We got right back in the van and drove down there - Alan saw the guy who said, give me an hour. We went back and he

sorted the tyre out for 16€. What an absolute star! We were so lucky that the nail had held the air pretty well enough in the tyre for us to drive the couple of kilometres to the tyre depot. Another learning curve. The weather changed again and as I type this, the wind outside is howling once more. The contrast of seasons in one day still surprises us - you’d think we would be used to it by now. Anyway, another adventure. Nighty night