I posted this on the bike group, so apologies if some of you get hit by
it twice ...

Normandy and Bretagne, Autumn 2007

Tuesday - Day 1 - Honfleur
I've been promising NewGirl a trip to France for some time; she's
travelled fairly widely as a sprog to farther afield but, much like
myself a decade ago, had been to places further away without seeing much
of Europe, and none of France. A recent bout of illness on her part
gave me reason to use the "get better and I'll take you to France"
incentive. So, her having struggled hard to recover, bless her, off we
set.

I had to go to a meeting, early-morning, so we went from there and
blatted down to Folkestone. As the meeting finished early we were there
1.5 hours ahead of schedule, and the EuroTunnel computer was nice enough
to offer us an earlier trip, at no extra cost. Cool. And set me
thinking; roughly 75%% of the time when I've turfed up early I've managed
to get earlier crossings, despite said crossings being classified as
either "full" or much more expensive options on the web site. So, if
you're prepared to take a gamble, you may well find they let you on.

I got pulled in for a "full" security check, meaning they turned the
Saab *right* over (in a pleasant and polite way, very nice chaps I must
say), but it enabled me to have a long and very interesting chat,
firstly with the security people doing the check, and secondly with the
loading chap, who (it turns out), also does freight security and
"personal" (ie car) security for them; in other words, they rotate
people around a lot to keep them on their toes.

Interesting facts gleaned: a) you may find yourself asked to carry
(unloaded, fake) guns or knives through with you from time to time, in
return for a free trip of your choice; this is to test their security
people. You get given a piece of paper with a disclaimer on it, so
you're covered when you do get pinched. If you happen not to be picked
up for a random check when doing this you just get sent round again from
the holding area, via a side-road, back into the checking-in area, for
another go. Sounded like fun, and I volunteered (especially as I'd have
got a free trip out of it), but they decide in advance and offer it to
you only if they've not made their number of stops for the day/trip. b)
contrary to my earlier suspicions of a computer system, the security
checks are totally random, within a quota of the number of vehicles per
trip; in other words, they pull n%% of the total booked to travel that
day. c) the fire detection systems are so sensitive that the flash
detectors will go off if you use even the flash of a mobile phone camera
=3F also, when they have a fuel tank leak (as some obviously would do),
they have to take that carriage out of service and steam clean the
entire carriage, as the fuel sniffer devices are that sensitive. d)
they've clearly seen some weird shit; last year, an old lady turned up,
queued, and when asked for her booking reference, asked if this was the
Dartford Tunnel. Seriously. She was trying to get to somewhere in
Essex, and had got lost enough that she thought "EuroTunnel" was the
same as "Dartford Tunnel".

Also, a truck driver boarded a freight shuttle, drove through the empty
train to the front, drove off, and thought that (ie the 60 seconds of
the length of the train) was the tunnel, so then tried to get out via
their service road, except he was driving on the right, so got a bit
stuck. And these people are out there, driving about. Scary.

Originally, thinking on the timescales we had, I'd booked a hotel in Le
Touquet, via the net, The Red Fox, on the grounds it would have been too
long a day to press on, but having seen how far ahead of schedule we
were I decided to go for Honfleur, my fave Normandy town. A phone call
from the train (while waiting to depart) to the hotel in Le Touquet
cleared the way, so onwards =3F

It never ceases to amaze me how much faster one can make progress on
French autoroutes - I set the cruise control for 100-120 mph (at which
speeds the Saab does about 28-26 mpg, which I consider rather good),
depending on conditions, with occasional bursts of sustained 130 fun as
the roads were so clear, and we made rapid progress towards the lovely
little fishing village of Honfleur, playground of Paris' posh-squad, and
so somewhat pricey, but from earlier visits I knew it'd be good fun, and
a spiffy introduction to France for the uninitiated.

Arriving without reservations, we parked up in the one car park I know
all the town's hotels use (from previous visits), a little way out of
the town centre, and went into the centre. Normally I use the hotel
Dauphin; much as the name delights, it's at best a rambling, though
clean, run through the basics. Anywhere else it'd be a 75 euro a night
place (all prices quoted here and thereafter are for a room with a
double bed and en suite), but as they still want 120 euros (coz it's
Honfleur, and "off-season" never seems to apply), I decided to walk
round the corner to the Hotel Les Maisons de Lea:

http://www.honfleur-hotel-france.com/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67658643@N00/1832838697/

I'd looked over this place the last couple of times I've been there, and
wanted to stay, but thought it would be stupidly expensive, on account
of the location and beauty of the building. On enquiring, yes they had
suites for 275 euros, and no I don't pay that kind of money for rooms,
purely coz I don't spend that much time in a room when I'm on a "eat &
drink" break, but although nearly fully booked (an achievement at this
late stage of the season) they did have a couple of "small rooms" for
140 euros.

One of the things I really like about booking into hotels in France is
that they never bat an eyelid when you ask to see the room before
signing up, so I took a look. Yes, it was small, but yes, it was
gorgeous, with views directly overlooking the stunning church and town
centre. Bargain at the money, given the town and location, so game on.

So, having showered, off to dinner. Top seafood was the name of the
game, but the place I wrote about before, recommended by the locals, was
shut for off-season, so (after *much* walking to and fro and looking at
menus), we selected another, La Grenouille ("The Frog"). For those who
know Honfleur, there is the main harbour area, whose restaurants are
beyond making as much of an effort IMHO, and then there's that part
round the corner, "before" you get to the Old Town, overlooking the bay,
where they seem to want to do better.

Herself is gluten-intolerant, massively so, and I confess I expected the
French to show the same care they do for vegetarians, ie none, but she
assured me she'd read they're very switched on to this kind of stuff
these days. I chortled like a bastard and prepared her "in case of
bread break glass" medication, but no; she had her speech prepared in
advance, and the maitre de nodded knowledgeably, then assured her it was
not a problem.

I thought I'd push our collective luck and ask if they had any smoking
tables, and was delighted when we were shown to a quiet and pleasant
corner table overlooking the establishment and bay (and noted many of
the other restaurant customers were also smoking, so I didn't feel
ostracised - IME even the French non smokers are fine with it, depending
on whether the restaurant allows it or not, of course), and he took our
aperitif orders, then returned; having spoken to the chef at length; he
was able to give a *hugely* comprehensive breakdown of the origin and
ingredients in every single dish, as it pertained to the coeliac. What
really endeared him to me was the way he would ask her what dishes she
was interested in, then say how they weren't coeliac-friendly, but *what
they could change to make them so*. Top marks, really can't praise
highly enough, and this was the case throughout our stay, although not
all with the same degree of, "we're good at food, this is a challenge
not a pain" attitude we found that first night. Others did do very well
too though, of which more later.

So, having been pulled away from the a-la-carte 100 euro fruits de mer
for 2 peeps, on account of how she didn't want that much raw seafood, we
settled on the most expensive (but still jolly reasonable for what you
got, as it turned out) of the set menus, the 35 euro one, plus the
circa-40 euros I expended on a *superb* bottle on Pouilly Fume (and I
mean it was exceptional, better than any I've had before, worth every
cent, and I wish I could have found the same stuff in a wine merchants
while I was there - next time I will take pics of everything I drink, so
I can find it again later);

Her:
Entrée: chef salad with crispy foie gras: a classic - simple, fresh,
local leaves, sparingly (thank god - I hate over-dressing, as it were)
dressed in a simple vinaigrette, with long shavings of a *decent*
roasted foie gras; so often foie gras is used to fool idiots with fatty,
cheap(er - it's still pricey) stuff, but this was primo foie gras, rich,
smooth, exceedingly tasty and amazingly low in "fatty" tastes. And the
portions: amazing. It would have easily passed for a main course at any
London restaurant of note; the foie gras was lobbed on with gusto.

Mains: Angelfish fillet wrapped in parma ham, roasted, and served with
honey-roasted chicory - a triumph; I'm always *super* dubious of meat-
wrapped fish, for the simple reason that it's amazingly tricky to do
well; often, if the parma ham outer's done right and crispy then the
fish is overcooked; if the fish is right (moist and succulent), then the
wrapping is soggy or, worse, crispy in some places and near-raw in
others. But no, this was simply perfect; crispy outer leading to
expertly-larded interior of delicate, moist, tasty fish. The chicory
was similarly superb, not over-sweet, and not over-glazed, but braised
by hand and eye and utterly superb. 10/10 : I've simply never seen a
more tricky dish done better, and said as much to the staff.

Me:
Entrée: "petit" selection of seafood (supposedly a "mini" collection of
fruits de mer) - having decided not to go for the full monty "Fruits de
Mer", I was staggered at the portion I got as a starter; half a dozen
oysters, a goodly half-pint of periwinkles, 6 raw clams, 6 langoustines,
half-pint of whelks, 6 goodly-sized pink prawns, a generous half pint of
brown shrimps =3F it came on a huge tray of crushed ice and I genuinely
thought they'd mixed-up the order until I saw the genuine Fruits de Mer
arrive at another table - you simply couldn't see the person behind the
tower of ice and seafood, so huge was the dish. Stunningly fresh, and
simply served with fresh lemon and proper, home made mayonnaise.
Excellent.

Mains: Pan Fried Saint Jacques (Scallops), on a bed of mushroom risotto,
dressed with truffle oil. There are several ways to fuck this one up;
the scallops are almost always not cooked properly; the outside should
be seared, the interior moist and fleshy. 9/10 times you order them
they're overcooked, the other time they're lethally raw. This was
neither. *Perfectly* cooked scallops, outer seared, inner moist and
flavourful. I'm also always wary of "truffle oil"; this can often mean
a truffle was, at some point in the distant past, waved over the oil,
which has been sitting for eons. Not this; the scallops were served on
a risotto cake flavoured with white wine and mushrooms (though not too
many mushrooms, which I was relieved about), with a very generous ring
of deliciously-strong truffle oil, enough that you could have mistaken
it for a sauce, but without any of it touching the food so you could
decide how much or little you wanted. At the point I ordered it I was a
bit dubious of the marrying of fungi flavours with the delicacy of
scallops (though I did order it, as I like to be a bit more adventurous
when on holiday), but it was a complete tour de force. Total bill,
including the superb bottle of Pouilly Fume, 104 euros. Utterly
stunning food, superb, knowledgeable service, and wonderful
surroundings.

We both skipped dessert as we were stuffed to the gills, and so repaired
to my fave bar in Honfleur, L'albatross; the other recommended (by the
Lonely Planet) one is the Perroquet Vert, 4 doors down, but I can't
stand that place; it's all flashy stuff and bottled beers (lots of types
of bottled beers, mind), but L'albatross is a proper, old-style French
bar, all dark woods, patina of age, efficient and friendly service,
excellent coffee, *loads* of aged brandies, cognacs and calvados, and a
tolerance towards smoking that I love; I sat at the window overlooking
the harbour, with a couple of espressos, a 15 year-old cognac and a fat
Cohiba on the go (I took a few Cohibas and Guantanameras with me, the
Cohibas packed in freezer bags to retain the moisture, whereas the
Guantanameras are crystales) and felt as happy as one can in this life.
A lovely day, and the perfect start to the break.

Herself retired around 12-ish, leaving me to sip champagne cognac til
2am. Latterly with the young, local night porter (although he stuck to
mineral water), with whom I had a fascinating convo concerning the
possible destinations for the following day. The lad was hugely
knowledgeable, and much drawing on maps was done.

Wednesday - Day 2 - Trouville-sur-mer/St Malo/Dinard
So, after a coffee (and a ciggie or 3 for me), we checked out of the Lea
and headed to Trouville, for lunch - when you're taking it slow and
steady you don't tend to be out of the hotel much before 11:30, at which
point it's time to start thinking about lunch. Trouville was as
nightmarish to park in as I remembered, but once you've found a space
it's a simply charming little fishing village, and has a vibrant,
bustling, traditionally French feel that its newer, richer, posher
neighbour Deauville lacks; Deauville always makes me think of Butlins
for millionaires, with its contrived "style" (that tends to mean merely
that everything looks the same) and I don't like it. Trouville, OTOH,
is simply perfect just the way it is.

One of the busiest and best places to eat in Trouville is Le Central;

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67658643@N00/1833816986/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67658643@N00/1832969565/

=3F a large restaurant with 2 big floors of inside eating space and a
large, long terrace outside, some of which is under cover, and all of
which is dotted with gas burners to keep you warm while you chow-down,
except the burners weren't required as the weather was unseasonably
perfect; bright blue skies, a warm sun, and no wind. We sat down at 12
sharp, as one of only about 4 diners out of maybe 100 outside covers,
and I thought we'd be out of place and massively outnumbered by the
small army of waiting staff, but within 20 minutes every table was full
=3F normally I don't like being shoehorned in among masses of people but
it was fun; the group to our right were tucking enthusiastically into
one of Le Central's specialities, Steak Tartare, which looked divine,
while the father and little daughter to our left were into the other Le
Central signature dish, Moules Frites; Le Central does as good a moule
as I've had anywhere, and their chips are to die for. I marvelled again
at how the French start their kids on eating out ASAP, and how
wonderfully-well behaved they generally are; this darling little poppet
couldn't have been more than 4 or 5, but she tucked into her moules
frites with gusto, and had perfect table manners. She seemed fascinated
by my sunglasses, and kept pointing and smiling happily. Charming and
immaculately behaved company, and her father, a young chap, was
similarly pleasant to watch in the way he interacted with her; calm,
loving, helpful and guiding.

I went for the moule frites (at 10 euros, and one could choose with or
without cream, but as we were in Normandy I elected for the creamy
option), and madam chose the tomato & mozzarella salad (8 euros) with a
home-made caper dressing, which was pronounced superb; fresh, perfectly-
ripe local tomatoes, superb quality mozzarella, and a sharp, tangy
dressing, and again the portions were very generous; we neither ordered
dessert, nor did we want to. My moules frites was another belter of a
dish, and we scarfed our way through all this with the help of a
smashing bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, very reasonably priced at 15 euro a
bottle. Sitting in the bright, warm sunshine, overlooking the market
and inlet, your heart just soars and I felt so alive, so at peace, and
so happy.

St Malo - Dinard
Night-porter boy had said "go to St Malo, or Dinard, do you like busy or
quiet places?", and so it turned out =3F St Malo was heaving, and the
narrow, cobbled streets were near-impossible to navigate, even with sat
nav. "Synth" (my nickname for the sat nav lady) blotted her copybook by
confidently directing us the wrong way down a one-way street; only the
finger wagging of an elderly Frenchman alerted us in time =3F I pointed at
the sat nav unit, and he gave me the very definition of a Gallic shrug,
which managed to convey "you do as you please, chum, but I'm telling you
you're going the wrong way". On reversing (slowly) back through the
throng, we noted that the "no entry" signs were about the size of
postage stamps, so it was an easy enough mistake to make.

The town looked lovely, but the crowds were doing both our heads in (the
place was *packed*), so we entered Dinard into the sat nav as our next
destination and set off - didn't take long to get there, and we soon
rocked up at the Hotel de la Plage (courtesy of our old friend, the
Lonely Planet guide). I have to say it didn't look all that from the
outside, but we were getting a bit fed up by that stage, so I wandered
in, was asked if I wanted a sea view, and upon answering in the
affirmative, was told it was a very reasonable 95 euros, and would I
like to see the room? When I did I almost fell over on seeing the
amazing view from our huge balcony -

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67658643@N00/1833848760/

=3F it was simply perfect, so we parked up and checked-in.

The previous plan was to try a restaurant in the area that's garnering a
lot of good write-ups, Le Bistrot de Didier, run by Didier Meril, a
young chef with a very good reputation, but (as the Lonely Planet Guide
had warned us), it is shut Wednesdays and Thursdays in the off-season.
The locals we asked in the Hotel didn't seem as impressed with it as
Lonely Planet were anyway, and suggested instead "l'Abri des Flots";

http://www.fra.webcity.fr/restaurants_saint-malo-dinard/a-l-abri-des-
flots_88552/PhotosLieu?numphoto=1

=3F which wasn't even mentioned by Lonely Planet. However, I've never yet
been steered wrong by a local, so off we trotted - it was only 3 mins
walk away, which my back was very grateful for as I was using a walking
stick by this stage.

I can honestly say I have never in my life eaten fresher seafood.
Honfleur's offerings were stunning enough, but the Fruits de Mer here
was one of the best meals of my life; a vast tray of ice easily 2 foot
across that positively groaned under the weight of the huge portion of
seafood of all kinds; crab (I was told they keep each day's catch in ice
boxes, alive, then cook them to order, which would account for the
amazing taste and freshness), mussels, oysters, periwinkles, whelks, raw
clams, some other, unidentified shellfish, like clams but bigger (and
jolly delicious), and all served with a divine mayonnaise and wedges of
fresh lemon, as well as a dish of white wine vinegar with chopped
shallots. Herself was in the mood for meaty, so went for a steak that
was similarly superb.

My Fruits de Mer were part of a 45 euro set meal that also included a
superb "Trilogy of the sea" starter (Langoustines, oysters and something
else I've forgotten), and the staff really could not have been more
happy or helpful; when I saw the "No smoking" sign I turned to herself
and said I'd be popping out for one, mid-course. On overhearing this,
they said they had no objection, so long as I sat at a lovely front
corner table, with a smashing view. Superb.

The sommelier was a young lad, but amazingly enthusiastic about wine, so
I asked a few questions and tried a bottle of the recommended Pouilly
Fume, which was so stunning that I ordered another when it had gone.
Total cost was 140 euros, all-in, but considering we'd had 2 superb
bottles of wine I was happy to pay up. Thoroughly recommended.

And so to bed, with the sounds of the waves wafting in from the balcony.

Thursday - Day 3 - Bayeux

After brekkie on the downstairs balcony we set off. As this was to be
the last full day we'd have, we wanted to head vaguely eastwards again,
so as to not have too far to drive on the final day. Left to my own
devices I would have gone back to Honfleur, but the Hotel Les Maisons de
Lea had told us upon departing that they were fully booked for Thursday,
so looking through the Lonely Planet book we settled on Bayeux; I've
eaten there previously at a super little place called La Rapiere ("The
Swordsman"), which is tucked away down a tiny little back alley, so we
thumbed through the guide again for places to stay and off we set.

We parked up in the big town square (the one away from the central
attractions) and went for a look at the Hotel d'Argouges, former
residence of the d'Argouges family;

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67658643@N00/1833923000/

It's tucked away from the square, back maybe 100 metres or so, and has
its own off-street, undercover parking. I was quoted 102 euros and went
to see the room, but it was a bit dark and pokey, so the very friendly,
helpful chap suggested another one for 116 euros; if you look at the
photo, above, it's the one that's the second from the right of the
smaller, upper windows. Not phenomenal value for what it was, but very
clean and nicely spacious (I like having a double bed and a single too,
to open out my suitcase on), and the staff were excellent.

Having checked in, we went for a walk around. We were both feeling a
bit tired by this stage, so found a nice little café-bar and had a swift
snifter, herself plumping for the wine while I indulged in my first beer
of the trip (she of course can't have beer due to the gluten-intolerance
thing). The wine made her even more tired, so she toddled off for a nap
while I did the rounds of the potential eating houses. La Rapiere was
out, as it too closes Wednesday and Thursday during the off-season, so
scouted out Le Petit Bistrot, which looked smashing, and also le
Pommier, which is slap bang next to the Cathedral, and a jolly imposing
cathedral it is too.

Come the evening, off we toddled, first to le Petit Bistrot which was
fully booked; not surprising really when you consider it's *tiny*
(imagine a restaurant in someone's front room), so I made a mental note
to book ahead next time, and latterly to le Pommier.

http://www.restaurantlepommier.com/english/html/restaurant-
normandie.html

According to the Lonely Planet, this is a place that prides itself on
good Normandy cuisine, so worth a pop we thought.

From the off, I knew it wasn't going to be as good as the places we'd
become used to, not because of any failing on the food front, but mostly
because the place was, to put it mildly, sniffy. Not whiffy, but kind
of poncy and superior. The patron/owner, Thierry Lhuillery, was a
foppish, mop-haired chap who, upon hearing that we hadn't booked,
started treating us as if this was a crime against civilisation, trying
to adopt an air of "we're so good that we're always fully booked". I
don't think my rather pointed look at the single, fairly sparsely
filled-out, reservations page in his huge diary, then at several empty
tables helped, but hey ho. In addition, most of the other diners were
far more dressed up than is normally the case for eating out, at least
in rural France, and although we weren't dressed badly it became clear
that these were people more concerned with appearances than food.
Still, not to worry, we were sat at a reasonable enough table, and chose
from the 40 euro set menu. I decided to have a "duck" evening, starting
with a duck foie gras terrine, and going on to the roast breast of duck
in a berry sauce; can't recall which berry, but it definitely had seeds,
of which more later.

The waiter pointed out that both my starter and main course were both
composed of duck, and when I politely pointed out I didn't care, through
use of my now "as-good-as the-natives" Gallic shrug, he threw back his
head in a sniffy manner and looked at me as if I'd just bent his mum
over the table and given her one, then beetled off in a fair degree of
dudgeon.

The starter was ok; nice enough terrine, but for the money (we were
ordering off the 40 euro a head menu, remember) I felt the portions were
abysmal. It was almost like harking back to the days of nouvelle
cuisine. The main course was similarly fine, except only one small duck
breast, albeit expertly prepared, and the berry sauce, though delicious,
hadn't had the seeds sieved out; I can't stand it when ostensibly posh
restaurants do this; I don't want to crunch my way through a sauce,
thanks very much.

Anyway, the meal was excellent in its own way, and the wine suitably
pleasant (a bottle of Crozes Hermitage, which was yummy, though like the
food, a tad overpriced at 28 euros). Upon trying to skip dessert and
get the bill, however, they seemed to take our not wanting to hang about
for another slow course (we'd been there 1.5 hours by this stage, which
is a bit much) as a personal insult, and took their time and then some.
When I *very politely* indicated *yet again* that I wished to pay, and
soonish, the waiter dismissed me with an airy wave of his hand, which is
a guaranteed way to wind me up, so I stood up and made as to leave, as
which point the bill miraculously appeared. So, to sum up, decent
enough food, but I've had better, the atmosphere was rather as that of a
library, rather than the much more vibrant feel we'd been used to, and
the service was contrived and sniffy in extremis. Still, when you
consider the worst meal experience we'd had was really rather excellent
by normal standards, it wasn't bad at all. The thing is, if you want
*genuine* local cuisine, with a very friendly, family-run ambience, go
to La Rapiere, it's ten time better, and somewhat cheaper too, if memory
serves.

And so up the little wooden hill to Bedfordshire =3F

Friday - Day 5 - Bayeux and home.

After coffee (and a croissant for me) we drove around the other side of
town to visit the Bayeux tapestry. I confess I was a bit nonplussed by
the concept, but I have to say it was excellent; the entrance fee was
reasonable, at 7.80 euros, the staff were very friendly and
knowledgeable, and they give you little MP3 devices in your chosen
language, which then talk you through each panel, giving you some
splendid details, while not keeping you hanging around for ever - as we
needed to be on the road at a reasonable hour we took the Lonely
Planet's advice and skipped the upper "Norman" scene setting display and
went straight for the tapestry.

I know this is an odd thing to say, but for something that's over 1,000
years old, it's in bloody good nick; some 70 metres long, glass-encased
against vandals and thieves and dimly lit to prevent it bleaching out,
although there's no roping off so you can get as close as you like to
it, and the stitching and detail are remarkable, as is the occasional
humour and hidden messages, which the guide player spells out for you.
All in all I thoroughly enjoyed it and, at about 30 mins, end to end, it
didn't fall foul of the "my back hurts, I've had enough" thing I
sometimes get with museums. Well worth a look I'd say.

One thing I did pick up was a free local guide book, in English (they do
them in many languages); normally, these are a few pages of detail and
lots of adverts for stuff you don't need or want, but this one was
superb, and listed, among other things, the days and locations of all
the local markets, festivals, and attractions. I could easily see me
going back and spending longer in Normandy again, purely to run through
some of the many, many sites we'd missed out on. For example, I've been
to the Canadian visitors centre at Juno Beach, and the Canadian war
graves nearby, but would still like to see the Omaha Beach centre and
war graves. Lots of local crafts and foodstuffs exhibition centres to
visit too, and we fell about at the thought of an "Umbrella Centre",
based around a little umbrella factory in the area, and promising to
show us "umbrella making through the years" - I'd have given that a go
for comedy value alone.

So, heading back and onto the autoroute, and time again to marvel at how
superb a car for this sort of thing the Saab is; fast enough to be
useful, economical when not going for it (36 mpg or so at a steady 80,
although it spent most of its time in the 100-120 region), roomy, comfy,
lovely cabin, surefooted in the wet and stops well when dozy Belgians
pull out in front of you, and generally goes about things in a very
efficient way, while having a huge boot for all your wine purchases.
Oh, and sports Saabs are amazingly rare in France, so you get used to
coming back to find people looking over it and asking questions.

Finally, off to CiteEurope, followed by a 600 euro booze spend, on a
combination of very cheap, but good, plonk, and some pricier stuff (my
Pouilly Fume addiction continues unabated), as well as loads of spirits,
including 6 bottles of the excellent Remy Martin Grand Cru champagne
cognac we'd been sipping from the hip flask throughout the trip, a snip
at 30 euros a bottle, and thence to the EuroTunnel terminal, where
despite being 1.5 hours early, it offered us the next train without
hassle.

All in all, a top mini-break, filled with gorgeous food & booze. Yes, I
could have saved a few quid here and there, especially by not using such
expensive hotels, but as it was her first visit to France I wanted it to
be special; she utterly adored it, and can't wait to go back.