Richelieu

Bleurgh, 2nd 6am alarm call in a row after a comfy stay in Dover, but no worries getting onto the ferry, and a nice, simple, calm crossing complete with the occasional glimpse at the depths of British culture - mainly when the British male is going on holiday any open bar will absolutely require that alcohol must be purchased. Stella at 8am really doesn't do it for me. Not that there was any trouble, but by eck...

The drive down through the country was easy enough cruising along the Autoroute (diligently observing the speed limit - I've no desire to get into trouble with the local law enforcement - being passed by car after car in the French manner, i.e. racing up behind, then pulling out at the last moment to overtake - at least having driven through France in the past I knew what to expect), with a very pleasant end, finding the cottage that is our home for a week, sitting near the Vienne river some 30 to 40 odd kilometres south of Tours. We even managed to arrive in plenty of time to get to the supermarket for food for dinner, and head to Richelieu, a small town planned by the famed red-suited anti-Mousqétaires Cardinal. His fabulous chateau, sitting in a park beside the town, is conspicuous by its absence. It wasn't razed during the revolution, but afterwards it was basically demolished stone-by-stone as a source of ready-cut building blocks.