Everyone, I imagine, loves a nice surprise. That unexpected show of love. A small gift. A helping hand. A thank you. A friendly telephone call. Made extra special when there’s no reason behind the action.
Nice surprises aren’t always governed by another person’s direct actions. Sometimes you may find yourself with a beautiful panoramic vista in front of you, that springs out of the blue. It’s been waiting there silently. All you had to do to receive it, was to turn that corner.
We leave Villamblard and head north. With plenty of corners ahead to look forward to. We’re aiming for the sun. Aware that with just one week left we need to keep this engine moving. Tans topped up.
Beastie catches something unusual out of the corner of his eye. Some sort of flying object. Noisy too. It’s far too slow and low to be Superman. He’s intrigued. About turns.
By lunchtime we’re pitched up on a very small family run site. Les Pilotis du Cognac in Bourg-Charante, operated by a very friendly Franck & Martine. They speak as much English as Mr S speaks French. Booking in becomes a very humerous duo-lingo affair. We all attend a mini language lesson. Mr S learns the meaning of la vielle (the day before), they learn how to pronounce chips, with a ch and not a sh.
The wished for blue sky continues to hide itself behind grey cloud. Plays hide and seek. Occasionally shows its colour with a brief glimpse here or there. Mainly there. Regardless, we do what all good mature cheeses do. Go sniff out the local locality. Walk the twist of deserted lanes like a couple of lost gorgonzolas.
Unsurprisingly, being set slap bang in the middle of Cognac Country, there are wall to wall masses of special vineyards. Special, because they grow a certain white grape that’s perfect for cognac production.
