Monday, 4 July 2016
True to our intention, we lay in bed as late as possible and then wandered slowly up to town, where we saw our Queensland cyclist friend, Jonathan, looking for an open boulangerie, a thing that is very hard to find in France on a Monday.
However, we knew where one was, because we had taken the precaution of asking the waitress at the Bar des Sports the evening before, and all three of us went through the alley beside the church and paid it a visit.
Unfortunately they had run out of croissants, so we got pains au chocolat instead and carried them back to the bar for morning coffee.
The rest of the day passed restfully under the willow tree. We rose from time to time to have showers or a dip in the pool, and for lunch we ate the turkey, salad and bread left over from last night’s dinner.
I took the opportunity to put a band on my new hat, which was rather too plain for my taste. I cut some red cloth from the lining of my pack and sewed a sort of ribbon out of it.
During the afternoon we saw a dense black pillar of smoke to the south, and the camping manager said there had been an accident on the autoroute – a petrol tanker had ploughed into the back of a stationary truck in the emergency lane, causing an explosion that killed the driver.
The road itself had caught fire and the autoroute was now closed.
Most of the tables were occupied by families eating hamburgers, chips, Coke and similar specialities of the region. Our Swiss friends were having soup – they said that was all they could afford after buying the van, which cost them €60,000.
We had rosé to begin with, then a salade italienne (tomato, mozzarella and ham) and a salade “camping” (ham and cold vegetables).
Our main course was spag bol, or as the French say, tag bolo, with bread and a jug of wine. Once again it was too much for us and a quantity of the pasta ended up in a container for tomorrow.