De Montford Hall, Leicester
The sun streamed through the perspex windows of the terrace. The wide open space outside seemed to suck you in. Felt like being in a lonely watchtower high above a forest. The valley below was decked out in autumnal golds and reds. Senses came back to life, the ropes that tie me fell away. Unbound.
The wild wind swept up the valley, rattling the windows on its way but warm sun caressed my back.
Aline arrived, one of the neighbours.
'Ca va?' she said, kissing me on both cheeks.
'Muy bien' I replied.
The women chatted away in French. Couldn't understand a word.
She left, I wished her 'Bonsoir'
Drove to Cessenon through the magnificent Orb Valley. The road twisted and turned following the path of the river. Felt car sick. Nervous too.
Perched high up on the rocky outcrops, a ruined castle, a reminder of the violent past. The Cathar Heresy. Simon de Montford. Heretics burnt at the stake, eyes gouged out, unspeakable acts of barbarity, in the name of God.
The merciless crusader got a rock venue named after him. (The Pol Pot Arena anyone?)
Glad I had Juliet with me. France is an alien place.
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