Day 6 - Tuesday 12th August - Charlieu

I packed, paid Mme Lagneau and said my goodbye’s; jumped thankfully into the air-conditioned interior of my car, drove a few hundred yards and then stopped to decide where I was going today.  I had two choices – Roanne via South Beaujolais and Tarare, or Roanne via the nothern route (Chauffailles, Charlieu, Pouilly).  I decided that the northern route looked easier, and besides, I didn’t feel I was ready to go back to Vaux and its celebrated pissotière just yet.  Maybe later.

I also decided that if I saw somewhere I liked, I would stop for a bit, rather than push on to Roanne.  No problem there with Chauffailles – it was fairly unimpressive.  I parked the car, but didn’t even stop for a drink.  Charlieu on the other hand made an instant impression. It is a mediaeval town with lots of fascinating alleyways and timber-framed buildings. I got there just before midday and realised that I would have to kill a couple of hours before making any moves to find a hotel.  I am getting used to the French lunchtime.  France turns into a ghost town between 12 and 2 every day (sometimes 3). This is such a firm rule that even the restaurants close (actually, some of them do, along with some bars). The streets are suddenly deserted and you lose the ability to do virtually anything.  You just wander the streets (mad dogs and Englishmen!)  

 I found an open crêperie and I lunched and then went to a bar for a slow Perrier while I waited for the syndicat d’initiative to open, to ask about hotels.  It turned out that the hotel they recommended was just round the corner from the crêperie and the bar! If I had walked another 50 yards, I would have found it myself.

I booked for two nights (if you have to lug that case up a flight of stairs, you might as well make it worth it!) and settled in.  Not the most luxurious of places, but very pleasant.  It is an old coach house and the owner is very accommodating.  There is no air conditioning in the rooms, but they do have it in the dining room and in the corridor.  (That seems strange to me, it just means that you realise what you are missing just before you open the door to your oven!)  On the bright side, they have a TV and a fridge (full of ice-cold mineral water and soft drinks – I can see me spending a lot here).  On the other hand, there is a vague suspicion of septic tanks in the room and I am glad Sammy is not with me.

I took a quick shower and lounged around for a bit, watching TV and waiting for the fiercest heat of the day to pass, and then I went to the square to read the local paper with a beer. I learnt a new word – une canicule – a heat-wave. It seems the temperature will be going up again tomorrow,  They predict at least 40 degrees. I also read several articles about the number of people who have died in France this week as a result of the heat.  Apparently they are having to set up temporary morgues in refrigerated tents to cope with the crowd.  Cheery stuff!

I also came across a story in the paper that gave me some cause for reflection. A group of four lads had decided to pass the afternoon throwing stones at passing cars and then running away.  They smashed three windscreens and dented a bonnet, but fortunately no one was hurt.  One of the victims, a young woman had stopped her car around the bend and gone back to find the boys hiding in bushes and looking for new missiles.  She grabbed one of them and held on to him while she rang the police on her mobile.  As a  result, the whole gang had been rounded up. At the trial, the boys were formally warned and it was explained to them what the consequences would have been to them if someone had been hurt.  Their parents were obliged to pay compensation to the victims and the woman was praised for her civic responsibility.  I can’t help feeling that in England, the boys would have got off scot free because they were under-age, their parents would have shrugged their shoulders and done nothing. The victims would have had to shoulder the burden of the damage and inconvenience themselves, and the woman would have found herself charged with assault and false imprisonment.  Am I a cynic, or is that right?  Oh for some sanity in the British legal system!

I went back to the hotel for dinner, but decided in the end to eat out front on the street rather than in their air-conditioned dining room.  I must be acclimatising!  Very pleasant (and wicked tasting) local speciality salad, followed by veal in a forestière sauce and a fromage blanc - not too much flour for me thanks! (Family joke - Mum kept everything in similar-looking pots)

Finally, a stroll around the town centre before an early night.  I get the impression that tomorrow could be a long one!

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