Southern treats

Lucky, lucky me. I’ve been on a road trip. Down to visit Robyn and her daughter Sylvia at Simiane la Rotonde near the Luberon.

I haven’t been on a mini holiday in France for ages on my own and it felt great to be going back to this part of France.

I cherish my time with Robyn as I see her so little (wrong sides of the world) but one day we both should be able to spend more time in France, and get together. We ate like kings! Fresh prawns, goat’s cheese souffles, a stunning roast lamb with winter vegetables, and a flourless chocolate cake for dessert. Throw in the company of Robyn’s parents and it felt like a little bit of Australia in the south of France.

And the fun didn’t end there. I was all set to drive straight back home (the bulbs, the bulbs I must plant the bulbs) but made a detour. One I hadn’t quite planned.   I was driving through the first big down of Apt, away from Robyn’s when I became hopelessly lost in the detours around road works.

You know that feeling when you confidently follow the yellow signs directing you around the closures. You twist and turn and find yourself on the outskirts, but suddenly the signs peter out and the car you have confidently been following turns into a cul de sac.

I found myself on a road that had the sign Bonnieux 12kms.   Hah! I haven’t been there for years. Not since Jan and I visited – 15 years ago? I can’t remember. But it was ages ago.   And I had the added bonus of a chance that our favourite estate agent Chris Banks might be at work. His agency is on the main square opposite the wonderful restaurant Le Fournil.

So up I drove, along past beautiful vineyards turning russet in the autumn sunshine. Ooh, the Luberon does bring out the purple in one’s prose.

Chris was there, and we had a great catch up, and a quick visit around Bonnieux and Lacoste, another neighbouring, achingly beautiful town.

I wanted to get a look at the garden made by Alex Dingwall-Main. I had read about it recently and was curious. It’s very manicured now and rather neat. Far too neat for the rugged surrounding hills. But everyone gets to create their own garden.   And I was probably just having a pang of neatness envy.   From our village top location I could see staff working; don’t get me started.

So with a happy visit behind me, it was back up the long autoroute 7 to the granite part of the mountains, and home.   What a delightful interlude. Now where is that bulb planter?