Bed and breakfast

My feet thanked me for a very much slower day. The camera and I walked my backpack to Gare de Lyon, where we sat on a terrasse with a coffee then caught a clean, cool TGV to a bizarre station in the middle of fields where my old friend, J-L met me and took me to his home at the edge of a small Burgundy town. Utterly different from Paris.

We chatted, went for a cycle-ride along a reclaimed disused railway line (I learnt that the front and back brakes of French bikes are on the opposite side from British bikes - an important thing to know), did some shopping, chatted...