Ed visited the Bunker museum whilst I was otherwise engaged in the shops! It’s a history of the German occupation of this area of France and the establishment of U Boat pens along the West coast of France. The pens were built 6 kilometres from the town, so the buildings in La Rochelle remained virtually unscathed as the RAF pilots were more interested in targeting the U Boats.

The town hall is a fortress-like building with its own tower. Nearby is a free library kiosk. Books are free of charge and can be returned or replaced with another. Just down the road is the local cinema which has been running for many years. A picture of Simone Signoret and Yves Montand, who discovered La Rochelle in the 1950s, sits above the doors.

La Rochelle has many eating places and one of our favourites is the local market, where you can find anything from a plate of oysters to a rotisserie chicken. We bought some roasted beetroot which is delicious, thickly sliced and added to cheese on fresh bread. Needless to say, there is an abundance of cheese available.

We finished our stay in La Rochelle down by the docks, watching the boats coming back in to moor up for the night. Another beautiful evening in this part of France.

We drove to Le Mont Saint Michel and parked on the mainland. The Passeurs (shuttle bus) took us the few minutes across the causeway. The walk up to the Abbey was fairly strenuous so Ed stayed below with Polly and watched all the other tourists streaming past. I went on into the Abbey and did the tour. Amazing place with an incredible history. The Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) made it necessary to protect the island and with that protection, it was able to withstand a siege of almost 30 years.

During the French Revolution, the monks had to abandon the abbey when it became a state prison and 14,000 prisoners passed through this “Bastille of the Seas”. The tides and the quicksand made escape impossible.

“Around us, everywhere as far as the eye can see, infinite space, the blue horizon of the sea, the clouds, the green horizon of the earth, the clouds, the air, the freedom, the birds flying on all wings….. and then, suddenly, there, in a crest of an old wall, above our heads, through a barred window, the pale figure of a prisoner. Never have I felt more keenly than here the cruel antithesis that man sometimes makes with nature” VICTOR HUGO letter to the poet Louise Bertin 27 June 1836 from Mont Michel.

In 1863 the prison was closed and the building was restored and a road dyke was built in 1879 to transport the growing number of tourists. The Abbey is now flooded with tourists for most of the year. Apparently you can visit around 6am and knock on the huge doors. You will be allowed entrance by one of the nuns and may attend mass. Then you can take a tour on your own. Perhaps this would be the best time to visit!

After 25 sets of steps I was glad to get back to our villa and enjoy another good meal in Dol de Bretagne at L’eviche restaurant.

Tomorrow we head to La Rochelle, leaving the lovely villa and our hostess Veronique. A tres bientôt!

We left UK on a chilly, wet and cold morning and boarded the Normandie Ferry in Portsmouth. I was nervous of this trip as I’m not, by any means, a good sailor. Ed, on the other hand, is not only a good sailor but also manages to scoff down a full English breakfast on the roughest sea! Fortunately, the crossing was calm and the sea looked spectacular as we sailed across the sparkling water.

Arrival in Caen saw sunshine and blue skies as we disembarked, heading towards St. Malo. We arrived at a beautiful villa, set on a golf course with magnificent views. Our hostess was Veronique, a very elegant Dutch lady who ran a beautiful house. She is also a good golfer so Ed was delighted.

We walked from her Villa to the Golf club restaurant and spent a very pleasant couple of hours eating our first French meal since May. Delicious.

The following day, after a breakfast of fruit, eggs, cheese, croissants and fresh bread, not forgetting great French coffee, we headed to a small town called Dol de Bretagne. A very pretty high street and a history tied up with the Stuarts.

We had lunch in the Stuart cafe, with a huge platter of cheese and local meats. Polly was eyeing it up for a taste.

Tomorrow we head to Le Mont-Saint-Michel to say a few prayers. Mostly so we can climb all those stairs!

She awoke to the rain pounding against the window. With a sigh, she got up, used the bathroom, and put on her grey dressing gown.

In the kitchen, she glanced out at the garden, where the rain fell steadily. She made a cup of tea, her mind on the plants. Could she fit them all in her car? The little tree was definitely coming with her.

In the front room, she switched on the TV. After a brief weather forecast and some political nonsense,  she turned it off. The clutter around her seemed overwhelming. She really needed to start clearing things out. Looking at the photos, she felt a wave of sadness and allowed herself a few tears before finding a tissue in her pocket. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.

The postman’s arrival interrupted her thoughts. She opened the porch door and picked up the post,  just bills and adverts – nothing handwritten.

Upstairs, she showered and dressed. Still raining. Back in the kitchen, she made some toast and another cup of tea, sitting at the large kitchen table with the newspaper.

She flipped through the pages absentmindedly. The usual news. The magazine section featured clothes that seemed impractical and unaffordable, draped on skeletal models. An immaculate house in the Hamptons that looked more like a museum than a home. A recipe for some elaborate dish that required ingredients foraged from a remote clifftop. With a sigh, she got up and took some fish out of the freezer.

The phone rang, breaking her thoughts. She picked up her mobile and saw the caller ID.

“Yes?” she answered.

She listened, nodding occasionally, before ending the call. Feeling a mix of anticipation and unease, she made a strong coffee. When the doorbell rang, she opened the door and signed for the delivery.

She placed the parcel on the table and stared at it for a moment. Eventually, she tore the strip off and took out the inner packet. With slightly shaking hands, she found the scissors and cut it open. The little leather box felt significant in her hands. She took a deep breath and lifted the gold catch. The diamond sparkled as she slipped the ring onto her finger.

This is a lovely little village on the coast in Spain. Difficult to find and a bit of a tedious journey but well worth the drive once you arrive. We stayed at La Torre hotel (The Tower), which is like something out of the 1970s for style and service. The best thing was the view which is stunning

The hotel bar wasn’t open, neither was the restaurant. Upon arrival after a long tiring drive, we were greeted with “passports and you pay NOW!” I said I’d like to see the room first before we pay anything. There was an outside bar with a beautiful terrace, which only seemed to open on random days. The funniest incident was when we were sitting on the terrace one evening with our own bottle of wine (as the bar was yet again closed), enjoying the view and the hotel owner/manager came out to us and asked us to come in as he was locking up. It was 10pm!! We truly expected Basil Fawlty to appear at any second.

That aside, Calella is a great place with some excellent restaurants, the fish is so fresh it’s literally from sea to plate. Sol I Mar is one of the best, followed by La Caula tapas bar with a huge selection of delicious food.

La Caula has a great system – take a plate, go up to the bar and choose your tapas. During the evening the waiters brought out lots of hot tapas for you to choose from. Tiny burgers, samosas, dates with nuts, wrapped in bacon, warm scallops, huge prawns, mini soufflés. Each tapa comes on a stick and at the end of the night they count up the sticks and you pay. Brilliant

There’s no reservations, just a queue outside from 7.30 each night and you join it and wait . You can also get the QR code and they’ll give you a ten minute warning when the table is ready so off we went to have a cocktail in the bar next door – very civilised.

The Hotel St Nicolas is down a quiet street in La Rochelle, but only a stroll away from the main shopping and restaurant areas.

We ate at the Panier du Crabbe on the first evening, just across the street from the hotel. They had a delicious choice of fresh seafood and we chose crab, langoustines and tiny brown shrimps with a bottle of chilled Rosé wine and fresh crusty bread.

Saturday morning we headed for the market – a great French institution. La Rochelle’s is no exception with a huge range of fresh meat, fish, fruit and vegetables. The fish selection is extraordinary; tiny shrimps, huge langoustines, oysters, lobsters, cod, crab, red snapper – every fish you can think of. The vendors had been there since early morning and lined the side of the hall, eating their very early lunch (or late breakfast) of mainly oysters or sausage, washed down with a few glasses of wine.

The market was full of fresh vegetables, thick stalks of white asparagus, tiny gariguette strawberries, fresh peas, courgettes, eggs, every size and colour of tomato; fresh bread and lots and lots of cheese.

We ended the day with a stroll down to the port for a drink and aperos at Le Dock bar and watched as an old sailing boat came into the harbour. Slightly older than the other boats lining the Quai.

Perfect end to a busy and enjoyable day in lovely La Rochelle

After a truly awful wet winter and spring in the UK, we decided to head off to Europe and find some better weather. Our first stop was near to Calais at a little town called Rang de Fliers. The food where we stayed was delicious and we are already looking forward to our return trip.

Next morning we left Rang du Fliers and drove on to Le Mans. The hotel we stayed at was originally a private home, converted into an hotel in the 1980s. The gardens are huge and the dogs loved them. We ate at the hotel which was three courses of Tartiflette (sliced potatoes with onion and cream baked until crisp). Cuisse de Canard (duck confit) and an almond tart. Good – but not quite up to last night’s excellent meal.

We set off after breakfast and arrived in La Rochelle that afternoon. First stop was down to the Quai and a lunch of charcuterie and fromage. In the sun too!

Our hotel was in the St. Nicholas area of La Rochelle, with lovely bars and restaurants. The town is very attractive with boats moored all along the various Quais. We are looking forward to exploring this wonderful place. More photos and food to come!

In September we flew to Belfast. This is where I come from and I love the bones of the place. I love the accent, the friendliness, the people and the many reminders of my parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents and many many cousins.

We picked up a car at the international airport and drove into the city. There’s the mountains of Mourne to greet us and the huge Harland and Wolf cranes on the dock, alongside the Titanic exhibition. My uncle had a pub on the docks and another uncle had a few tales to tell about his experiences of actually being thrown into the water there.

We rented an Airbnb in the Ormeau Road area, full of pubs, cafes and shops and near Queens University, one of the most attractive buildings in the city.

We met my cousin Lesley for a coffee and cake and went back to the house to open a bottle of fizz. Our Danish friends, Henrik and Gitte arrived later in the afternoon to join us for the week. We went out to a pub in the Ormeau Road that evening and had Guinness, Champ and leek and potato soup. When we were kids, champ was a mainstay for our family. Mashed potatoes with loads of butter and scallions (spring onions) mixed in. Yum.

Saturday morning we walked to St. George’s market and had the biggest breakfast bap we had ever eaten. John the Baptist (nickname of John who served us) insisted that Ed had EVERYTHING. This included black pudding, several slices of bacon, egg, sausages, white pudding – all served in a Soda Farl. Gitte and I shared one and we couldn’t finish it. Ed and Henrik made a valiant job but still couldn’t eat it all!

On Saturday afternoon we took the tourist bus around the city. It was a great tour and the guide did his best to explain the various different areas of the city and how complicated the relationships between these areas are. We passed the road I was born in and saw all the places that my parents would talk about when we were young. I wish I had asked them more questions about the history of this city and how difficult it must have been for them to leave it and move to England in the 1950s.

Sunday we drove to the Giants Causeway. We walked down to the water, but took the bus back. Henrik and Gitte walked back up (of course! Being fit and healthy Danes!). We had lunch at the pub on the top – Guinness, soup and fresh bread.

Just up the coast is the Bushmills distillery (oldest in the world and soon to open the newest in the world!). We had a tour of the place with a marvellous guide called Darren (or Darn as its pronounced in Belfast). Ed and Henrik were able to sample three different types of great whiskey. Gitte and I resisted as we both hate the stuff and had been ill on it as youngsters. Funnily enough, when Darn was giving the tour, he told us about how people react to whiskey and how it smells different to each person. He said some smell vanilla, some smell apple, wheat etc. and some people even smell vomit! Gitte and I both laughed and he said “youse two obviously had a bad spell on whiskey as youngsters” to which we heartily agreed and said we would never touch it again. He swore he could make us like it but again we resisted – ugh.

Earlier this year, after a brilliant week in Austria, we left Spielmann’s hotel with a heavy heart as it really is a home from home for us. On through the mountains to Innsbruck and into Italy. The drive was somewhat precarious this time as the roads were extremely icy and we struggled with the winding bends across the Fern pass. We finally arrived and booked into the wonderful Hotel Nazionale in Desenzano del Garda, a few minutes from the lake.

Desenzano at night is a amazing, full of great restaurants, bars and shops. We unpacked and set off for an early evening drink. The shops were still open and I spied lots and lots of lovely Italian soft leather shoes – all at half price! I thought I’d spend Sunday morning in those shops as they were open all day. On we went to several bars, then a restaurant and finally another bar. Each place poured huge Proseccos in enormous glasses and I gladly accepted the Limencollo offered at the end of the night.

Sadly, I never made those shops and could only dream about the lovely Italian shoes from my bed at the hotel, where I spent most of Sunday trying to recover from the excesses of the night before. I managed an omelette around evening time and slept until Monday, when all the shops were closed. Up early and off to Spain. That’ll teach me – never drinking again I said.

Next stop Spain