Trip to Haute Vienne, France - 1st to 8th July 2009

A week's holiday, and I went to stay with my Aunt in France. She lives in a tiny village in Haute Vienne, a rural département in the region of Limousin, slap bang in the middle of France. So, a week of doing very little, in the middle of nowhere was on the cards. We arrived in France on a shuttle at about half past midnight, and planned to drive through the night whilst the roads were quiet. One lesson from doing this is that France is big! Even if you average 80mph, which is quite possible on the excellent motorways, it takes ages to get anywhere - a good 2 1/2 hours to Paris, a couple more hours to Orleans, and a few more to where we were going. There is no real way to do it much quicker, you just have to bite the bullet and accept that it will take an age. Starting the trek at midnight was probably not the best idea ever - by the time we arrived at 8am, we were beyond tired, and wishing we had started the journey those few hours earlier.

When we eventually reached our destination, it was the classic small, remote French village. The photo here is of a petrol station that had obviously closed down a while ago, but was still there (albeit a bit tatty) - with pumps pricing their petrol in Francs. The village had a couple of bakers, a cake shop, a few bars, and a couple of general shops - so all you could need for a few days relaxation away from much going on. The village was very close to Lac Vassiviere, and also had its own small lake as part of a big village green - really beautiful, and a nice place to spend a lazy week.

One thing about places like this in France and Spain is the number of other English people there. Some nice ones have worked hard all their lives, and are retiring to enjoy the weather. Others seem to have screwed up their lives in the UK, and burnt all of their bridges with other people - so are running away to start afresh. Because of this, there are quite a few English people around who don't exactly do the country proud - who are busy repeating all of the mistakes that made them leave the UK in the first place. Something that is strange to see, and that makes you feel somewhat sorry for the locals who have to put up with some of them.