Usually my old pal and former Edinburgh neighbour, Sara, does an annual French trip, to visit me, her son, James (north of Nice) and the family home in a picturesque hamlet near Roussillon in the Lubéron. This year she managed just the third, staying with her brother, Michael, and his family. So I went across for a short visit to see them all.
First I thought I would spend the night (camping in my van) in Avignon, to fit in a quick tour round this amazing town. The weather decided to intervene. On my journey across, I got caught up in a spectacular thunderstorm. There I was in a motorway aire, charging my car, when the heavens opened. It did not calm down, so eventually I had to venture out to unplug my car – and then drove on to Avignon drenched to the skin. Many of the cars had pulled over, but I ploughed on driving cautiously forward in the torrential rain.
At the campsite I waded through deep puddles to sign in and then thankfully got out of my sodden clothes and shoes, but could not be bothered to cook a meal inside the van. By morning it had calmed down – too late to visit Avignon – but at least I admired the town from the campsite, which was conveniently situated the other side of the river from the Popes Palace and the old bridge.
I love visiting the Kidd (Sara’s maiden name) house. It has all the charm of a Provencal farmhouse plus the quirkiness of several generations of a very gifted family. Everywhere there are their paintings, objets and exuberantly furnished rooms (all of which display nonchalant cracks and curves of a house sitting on subsiding clay).
I spent a splendid day and a half, nattering with Sara – and her family – pottering round the hamlet (their friend and neighbour, Mary, has a lovely garden with formal flowers integrating with wild ones), and doing our usual walk through the nearby woods and fields. In the evening we played vigorous, mainly word-based, games, which I am glad to say included Boggle, one of my specialities.
On Wednesday we had breakfast in a cafe in the square in front of the Mairie of Roussillon. The maire of Roussillon – a striking looking woman – was also wandering around, greeting everyone with enthusiasm. My hostess, Jenny, said that although the maire was centre right in politics, she was generally popular, as she made a point of heeding all points of view. We then went on to the weekly market, where I made some good unplanned purchases.
I was again struck during this stay by the apparent affluence of this area compared with mine: better stocked stalls in the market, elegantly dressed people, and the noticeable sound of English accents in the crowd. This is one of ‘les plus beaux villages de la France’. I love the architecture of villages like this, but I feel more at home in the relative casualness verging on scruffiness of the Cévennes.
