Sancerre

We headed to the tourist office but spotted a sign to the St Martin Hotel and decided to stay there. We locked up the bikes in a courtyard and went to our grotty room. We couldn't be bothered to get properly changed, just put on fleeces and went for a stroll.

Sancerre was small and we visited the church which was lovely - very simple. When we came out we walked past Maison des Sancerre - like Cadbury World only for Sancerre. We went in and I tried to get the attention of the attendant who told us we couldn't go in. I waved my E10 but nothing doing. They closed in half an hour so we wouldn't have time to enjoy a visit, and no, we couldn't rush a visit, that was not a decision a visitor was allowed to make. We were banished. I really wanted to cry, but didn't.

We walked back to L'Esplanade where I planned to add the rejected E10 tour money to the wine budget for dinner. We went in and I asked the spotty youth for a table for two. He conferred with the owner who after looking us up and down agreed we could sit inside. Cheeky blighter!

I decided to have Sancerre a pichet and save my money for a more welcoming hostelry. I did have fabulous shellfish and rice and I wanted local goat cheese for dessert, but ordered "Fromage Cheveaux" - 'Hairy Cheese' by mistake. It was quickly sorted out after some hilarity and we headed back to sleep.

Nevers to Sancerre

I woke with a start after sleeping like a baby. It was 7am and already light. We got ready and went down for breakfast. I had pain au chocolat with added Nutella, fruit salad, apple sauce and prunes, yes prunes - I'd been suffering. We paid up and headed out on a small road to Marzy where we stopped at the post office. I confidently asked for 'Cinq timbre pour carte postal pour Etat Unis". They pretended not to understand, but I was unwavering and they repeated what I said and gave me the right stamps.

On to Marseille les Aubigny where my legs felt like pudding and we stopped for Tracker bars. The wind was strong and we were in rain gear, so it was hard work along the canal and past factories, quarries and agricultural co-ops.

We made it to Charite sur Loire in good time and parked up outside the Landsdowne Road Irish bar for lunch but it was closed. We went into the abbey which was impressive, but a little soul-less, before strolling around town in search of lunch. The options were poor and we chose a bar for baguette and chips. The bloke opposite me ordered steak and chips, but as he had no teeth he put most of it in a bag to take home.

We headed out of town back the way we came as far as Herry where we stopped at Herry's Bar for juice. The had a giant TV showing American daytime soaps dubbed into French. Onwards towards Sancerre, Lou had been bitten several times by insects. I have three lumps on my forehead but she is totally covered. They're gross.

Gentle hills led us there but our guidebook promised us a steep 10km climb. We could see Sancerre high above usand at the 10km mark we stopped to eat fruit and organise ourselves for the climb. It started to rain. All encompassing cold drizzle and we set about our task, cheering every kilometre, but they weren't steep until the last three which were hairpins through the vineyards.

I stopped to take photos on the way. We were there much sooner than planned as the climb wasn't what we expected.

Nevers

Our room had its own loo, bath and TV – luxury. There was porn on the TV! The big news was a terror plot and chaos at Heathrow. Loads of family members were flying around Europe and across the Atlantic this week so I worried a bit. We cleaned up and washed lots of clothes, then headed into town.

We sat in the main square and ordered baguettes and chips. I had lots of tomato juice to boost up my tomato intake. During our lunch we had a change of waiter and the new one just wanted to charge us for drinks. I didn’t have the language skills to explain the mix up but ‘Un autre addition pour le mange s’il vous plait’ worked OK. He touched my arm in recognition. French people touch me a lot. The wind picked up and it was cold, we stopped back at the hotel to check our washing was still secured to the balcony and to pick up fleeces.

We headed to the Basilica St Cyn. It was really quite impressive. The RAF had bombed it to smithereens on Bastille Day in 1944, but they’d rebuilt and were steadily adding stained glass windows. The light in the church was fabulous. We strolled around town looking for an internet café, we found several boarded up ones but not an open one. We mooched about looking for pasta. Yes, I know I’m in France, but I don’t eat veal which seems to be the only food choice. Bad buskers rendered parts of the city no-go zones. The main square was the best option.

I had salmon pasta and some Touraine Sauvignon Blanc. Scrummy. The waitress was running back and forth acrooss a busy road to a family we could only assume were Mormon polygamists. Our Dutch chums from earlier in the day were eating in the square. She was glammed up in a suit, he was not. That explained her huge panniers and his tiny bag. We strolled back to bed.