Journey back home

I was grateful when we woke up to rain, Landais-grey skies and waves that had flat lined, because it was easier to leave.
  
Nico decided we'd take the Route Nationale because we might see interesting things.  We didn't.  The Béarnais plain was grim and the rain hid the mountains.  We passed rows of old but still-lived-in houses pressed between the railway line and the road.  A huge gas field with all it's ugly trappings dominated the skyline and the stench of gas sulphur dominated the air.

The already wretched landscape gave way to the sprawling commercial suburbs of Pau and I wanted to get home and scrub it all off myself.

We gave up with the Route Nationale and joined the motorway.  Nico found a mimosa tree at a pit stop, the sun gave us a quick flash and the car smelt of flowers.

After one hundred million trillion hours we crossed the Ariège border and back home where, somewhere up in the moulin's acacia, a blackbird sang.