Family visit

Some of the family have been here for their first time.

They arrived last week just in time to go to the night market at Jonzac, outside the lovely Art Deco market building with the beautifully clean and refurbished church glowing in the evening sunlight. They scoffed oysters and went back for another lot, then we had various dishes from various stalls, as you do, and watched the Polynesian dancers every time they came to our end of the tables. I love this kind of atmosphere, where people are so friendly and complete strangers strike up conversations: two women from Paris who come to Jonzac for the cure every year assured me that it does all kinds of wonderful things; a couple from Flemish Belgium chatted for quite a while; random passing locals spoke to us, as well as a few near-neighbours from St Dizant with some recent gossip.

In between the dancing, the accordionists wandered around. The old man was much impressed by R's "24-heures Moto" t-shirt (they'd been to Le Mans on the way down here), and sang a few bars of something about a motard, followed by a quick blast of Smoke on The Water. Interesting, on an accordion. What a shame we weren't quick enough to record it. And then he tried some English pieces, so of course I warbled along with the few words I could remember of a Beatles' song. He clearly realised what type of voice I have and started up the Gounod Ave Maria, which was most odd to sing in such surroundings! The moon rose huge and golden, and we drove home by its light.

On Thursday we surveyed the estuary from Mortagne, then went to Meschers where $Visitors climbed down thousands of steps into the cave-dwellings and I went to the Plage des Nonnes, a pretty little beach. Later, at Talmont, the low tide revealed the small stony cove by the church of St. Radegonde where boats used to arrive, and we wandered around the dinky old village eating Amazing Ice-cream (huge scoops of ginger and lemon for me, utterly delicious, though next time I plan to get a ginger and dark chocolate combination). $Visitors would be leaving before Tuesday's candlelit tour of Talmont, so I've missed it again this year.

On Friday they went out on Le Saintongeais for a day-trip to the Médoc. It cheerfully blew up a small gale: watching the boat return across the currents into Vitrezay I was reminded of the ferry to Shapinsay crossing The String. They hadn't been impressed by a rather downmarket tourist-type château visit, but they made friends with the coach-load of French tourists.

That evening we sampled the new restaurant at the back of 1000 Frais et 1 Fred, the superette in St Dizant. The style is quaint, with random old furniture under a couple of large gazebos; the food is excellent at 18 or 20 euros for a 3-course meal with a drink.

On Saturday we ate meringue and more ice-cream at the teashop in Jonzac and looked around a brocante at Ozillac. I found some lovely old furniture being sold at lovely high prices by a friendly bloke who told me he's been single for two years and that, as a loss-leader, he'd knock 200 euros off the price of the antique chest-of-drawers I coveted, and then he'd search for other pieces to my specifications. I'd have been more tempted if he hadn't thrown in the personal information!

We went home via Le Doublon which was being set up for the monthly karaoke, leaving just as the singing started. Before leaving, however, we witnessed a wedding convoy going up the N730, the bridal couple lounging in a trailer decorated with giant sunflowers towed by a tractor making an astoundingly untractorly noise. The noise came from a horn salvaged from the little steam engine that used to run on the line which went through St Ciers du Taillon and St Dizant du Gua on the way to Royan. Damien-across-the-road had been working on it the previous weekend but I'd had no idea what it was or why; it certainly made a lovely racket.

On Sunday we turned up at La Daugaterie too late for lunch, so after $Visitors had been out for an afternoon ride on the Black Kwaka, we went back there for dinner. Again we were a little late, but M. Lollo welcomed us in. We overfed royally. By the time we'd halted over the inevitable ice-cream the place had emptied and it was long after closing-time, but he was clearly unconcerned: so much so that he brought over small glasses and a bottle of cognac, which $Visitors pronounced to be very good.

$Visitors have gone now. It was much fun, and I miss them!