Day 8- Saturday 22nd September.
A restless night, full of checking my phone for the time. We set
off a full five minutes later than planned, at a blue-grey seven in the morning and
drove through the misty villages towards Cahors. A lone deer watched us from a
field and I began to wonder how wild animals don’t just come and eat all the
pumpkins and tomatoes that lie about in the fields? Probably because the food
in the forest is so good they don’t need to bother. That and the whole being
shot thing. The journey took us three hours exactly, meaning we arrived five
minutes late to pick the guys up, missing their plane touch down. It didn’t
matter at all as we had to wait ten minutes for Amy’s bag to come through the
dinky conveyor belt in arrivals (basically a shed- Bergerac airport is pretty
dinky).
Amy, Roger and I squeezed into the back of the car and we began
the three hour journey back, all chatting and jolly. Our colds are still pretty
bad but we managed to pull ourselves together on that journey, it was great.
For me, seeing Roger again was like being reunited with a long lost comfort
blanket and I began to feel better there and then. Of course, the cold’s still
nasty but it’s beginning to ebb, even if a nap is still required every
afternoon to fend off fatigue. But then again, when we weren’t ill we still
needed that nap, with all that food and heat hitting us.
After a couple of cramped hours, having stopped again for a break
at the little Intermarché for a snack (crisps and mini pain au chocolats), we
were all ready to stretch our legs big time. We pulled up at the massive
Carrefour just outside Cahors and began to fill a trolley, as usual. It was
nice to see Amy and Roger getting a thrill out of all the food, just as we had
done a week before (has it really been a week? It feels like more than that.
But also less, I’m already panicking about us having to leave and that’s two
weeks away!).
Another, final cramped journey in the car and we were back home,
laying the table for a huge welcome spread. We had all the usual suspects;
bread, cheese and a platter of delicious prawns, including huge meaty ones the
size of half a lobster tail. A salad made from huge, rippled tomatoes called
“coeur de boeuf” had an amazing flavour, so much better than the English beef
tomatoes we get back home. The crowning glory though, was a wooden box of
oysters that Amy couldn’t resist. At around thirteen euros for a box of two
dozen I don’t blame her. She and Dad-y spent the meal ruthlessly prising their
way into the little guys and shlurping them down. I joined in, having a half
dozen and god, they tasted good. With a squeeze of lemon mingling with their
salty liquor, they slid down a treat. I know some people swallow them in one,
while others allow themselves just one chew but I couldn’t resist three or four
to savour their creamy, sweet flavour. Delicious! Want more.
A nap followed, naturally. We met up again in time for Dr Who, Amy
and I scoffing a little salad and those little goat’s cheeses wrapped in parma
ham and baked in the oven I’d bought last week. They tasted pretty good, even
if the cheese did explode on the baking tray. Falling into a slumber again after
our programme we called it a night.
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