Another hot, sunny, sultry day. No real breeze to speak of, but only one that might be mentioned as an afterthought in a weather report.
In the morning we drove into Beaulieu and finished our game of petanque in style – using the purpose built areas set-aside for the game down beside the river. We’d watched a few locals playing the game there yesterday and we thought it a good idea to experiment playing it on a real petanaque surface rather than my rather patchy driveway. Paul’s theory was that by having a level, consistent surface to lob the heavy metal balls about he might be able to reclaim the advantage in the game. Modesty prohibits me from saying who won the match, but suffice it to say that his theory was very wrong.
His penalty for losing was for me to suggest an afternoon activity, so I chose another walk – this time to Curemonte which never looks very far on the map. In the searing heat of the afternoon though, the rustic towers of the village that you can see perched on the other side of the valley never seem to get any nearer. We arrived about 4 o’clock and sat ourselves down in the only bar in the village – exhausted.
After a few beers though we were feeling a lot better, and I suggested to Paul that it might be prudent for us to order a taxi to take us back rather than walk the 7-ish kilometers in a dehydrated state. I got a number from the yellow pages and pumped it into my mobile phone just in case.
But it was such a lovely spot and we found ourselves chatting and ordering beer after beer. It was the first time we’d really talked, and before we knew it it was 7 o’clock and we’d had more beers than I’d care to mention. Certainly more than the average tourist must have at that bar because the woman at the till was struggling with the maths when she came to add-up the bill. Fortunately Paul avoided an international incident by indicating that it was in fact my maths that was at fault and we had actually consumed that amount. Blimey!
Paul was all for walking back the way we came, and so I gave-in and we rejected the taxi idea. The walk home was mainly uphill, but at that time in the evening the sun had lost most of it’s killer instinct and it actually made for a very pleasant walk.
Got back about 8:45, and Paul made a cheesy fondue sort of dish which we ate-up with lashings of water.
