The deal was whoever wanted to return to the cottages early should meet at the van at 6:45 - 7 pm, and Joe would run us back there. Nobody is sure if Fred was intending to return early or not, but he is inclined to change his mind so at 7:05 we leave without him.
He was never late for a van again.
We’re back at our digs just in time to settle in and prepare a salad when our cottage pie is delivered, piping hot from the oven.
Ohhhh, that is some good stuff. We’re not sure what all is in it. Beef and lamb for sure, but there’s something else - gotta be venison. Gamey, but not too much, only enough to be Not your Usual Food. Just when we’re nearing the end of the main dish, Mac comes in to announce a van is leaving for a Session at the village pub nearby. There’s a village nearby ? Sprung on us in the middle of dinner, only Darrell joins them. I opt for a walk in the soft late evening light, instead.
It’s hard to go walking around here. The country roads don’t have a lot of traffic, but when there is a car, or a truck or a bus, there’s nowhere to get off the road. The high hedges and stone walls leave you just a few inches on either side. In France, I wouldn’t be walking on the road anyway. Hiking paths abound, and the farm roads between fields are generally accessible to walkers. There are even stiles provided to cross pastures. Not here, as far as I’ve seen.
When I get back, nobody much is around, all either gone to the pub or sleeping off jetlag or deep in their journals and blogs. So I do the same for an hour before turning in to my lovely soft bed.