spring 23 depart to amboise

Dedicated fans of this blog, if there are any which is in some doubt, will have already consumed with relish (or disdain) the account of the Melling/Smith spring 2023 transfer to Sablet, published as it was as a single post. I have now decided that it was rather unwieldy in that form, unlikely to hold the attention of your modern follower, more used to short attention spannery; so I've split it up.  I wanted to add a few additional delicacies to the repast as well so you might have to read the whole sequence all over again to stay in step with the author. Or just pass on by and do something else with what little time there may be left to you: the option is yours of course… the original offering started like this:

Don't get your hopes up: this is merely a diary entry, there is nothing (or very little) to see here… Mme Melling has hitherto done posts on the road so I thought I might give it a go, aussi: keep the daily notes I have made before this development, to assist my faltering recall — but do that here instead of elsewhere. Purely for my benefit you understand; I'll keep it clean so you can peruse it if you are so inclined, are at a loose end, kicking your heels as it were. Don't expect sparkling narrative (no change there then…).

Just so as you know, this is our twenty-ninth transfer to number one, Rue FB: so almost certainly there will be a thirtieth such excursion. After that, well, that may be in the lap of the gods somewhat… 

Sunday 12 March Cheldon depart. Left 1345, arrived Portsmouth after three and a half hours, including two stops for essence as we feared industrial action in France, so boarded with full tank. Travelled via Yeovil for a change but were swathed in fog before reaching Dorchester: started dry but arrived Portsmouth under drizzle. Early on to Armorique. A full ship. Quarters up on the top (deck 9) so the choppy crossing was a bit more pronounced.

Monday 13 March: We get onto foreign roads as the clock strikes nine (if the dockside clock had been the chiming variety that is). Once off the boat (which takes three-quarters of an hour to achieve) it is quick, the stamping of one’s pp; we are in the vanguard thankfully, as the boat is full to capacity. 

On the road today we experience sunny and cloudy weather by turns and register a 16.5° maximum (snowing back in the UK). 

Breakfast plus good filled baguettes are acquired in Dol-de-Bretagne. The street was 'up'. Being recobbled and generally brought under municipal discipline: we had to leave the motor at the other end of the 'high'…

We make a return visit seeking to obtain Calvados from Centaurees again (see route, page 82). Farm Calvados, Domfrontais style, lovingly made in small batches, with pears you see, not apples, it is quite distinct. The poiré outclasses most champagnes, in my book: it has an exquisite mousse and flavour. We bought six bouteilles and can already attest to the loveliness of the stuff.  

Two routes barrées to get round during this morning as well as this micro-navigational excursion: Mme Melling sorts these matters with her usual improviser's aplomb. 

Baguettes are eaten by the side of a lake. This lake. I won't trouble you with its name, I do know it but it is rather less than distinguished despite having country pursuit 'facilities'. I doubt it would appeal as a holiday destination, but there is no accounting for taste. 

Weather less good in the afternoon: wet roads but the rain is gone before until we catch up with it just before dropping anchor in Amboise. Hotel at 16.45. Staff welcoming but no beam of recognition from reception: we didn't reconise her either. We eat in a crèperie adjacent to the château in an almost deserted Amboise. Warmer than the UK but cold wind blowing at times. Hotel redecorated! In our honour one trusts.