TRAVEL BLOG: Tourtour de France (28/08/23)

Today we got out to visit Tourtour, so good they named it twice.

Overnight the rain poured and poured and poured. There was thunder.  I could vaguely see flashing, which I assumed to be lighting, so I got up to admire the spectacle. After ten minutes I realised it was the smoke alarm flashing to say it was still alive and well. I went back to bed, disappointed, but burn free.

When morning finally arrived it was still raining. The temperature had dropped by 20 of le celcius in just two days. It didn’t look like we were going anywhere. But no problem,  I took the time to review the new album by Le Anonymous Iconoclasts,  which, by coincidence,  has a track that was written on a rainy Bank Holiday looking out of the window. Le synchronicity or what?

Mid morning Trixy and Jon arrive for coffee and we plot our day. Or rather we just chat and consider plans with no real decisions made, till Nick rocks up and says, “anyone fancy going to Tourtour?” Nick is not one for procrastination. We don’t know what a Tourtour is, but in the space of three minutes the coffee cups are in le sink and Jon is putting Tourtour into le satnav of le hire car.

Thirty minutes later we are parking the car up in Tourtour. With a population of less than six hundred, it makes Montferrat look like a city. But it does have the advantage of several pubs that open at a time when customers actually want a pint, several art galleries,  and astounding views over the surrounding area.

I go for a walk, camera in hand, to try and capture some images of the surrounding area. I don’t think I’ll do it justice, the scenery is astounding. The rest of the gang will have to wait till I get home and go through the pix, cos they just head for the pub. Eventually they persuade me to join them.

I’m not sure what beer it is we are drinking, but it is quite potent. It’s the drunkest I’ve felt all week.

Then we get a message from Struth and Kev saying their flight home today is delayed.  Then we hear that air traffic control in the UK is completely down and nothing is flying in or out of the UK.  I look at my calendar.  We have five days before we need to panic, and I stay outwardly calm, whilst internally wondering how long it will take to fix the technical problem and if there will be a backlog.

Fortunately,  an hour or so later, we hear the news that they turned it off and turned it on again, and the air traffic control computer was working again. I had visions of a scene from the film Airplane, where someone had pulled the plug out for a laugh.

After a scenic drive home that is almost as good as the one in Cwmcarn, we find ourselves returning to the scene of the crime, AKA  ‘The Villa’. It is almost sane down there tonight and I catch up with a few people that I had only been able to shout unpleasantries at on the wedding night.

On the short walk down we catch a glimpse of a little troop of baby wild boar. Which was nice. I wouldn’t want to meet their mother in the dark though.

We have an early night and plot we are going to do for the rest of the week. A cunning plan is hatched.