It was market day in Lisle and we stopped on our way through for a pain au raisin breakfast and for some fresh toatoes and oranges for the short journey to Perigueux. Again, a hard climb out of the town had us panting and seeking shady rest stops. I kept promising Kez we must be owed some descents soon but we seemed to just keep climbing. A small village on the peak of a hill gave us a shady bench built into the church wall to stop for an orange while the sounds of a shuffle footed housewife doing kitchen chores in her flip flops drifted out of the old stone house opposite. We descended joyfully only to find more climbing was necessary before we could descend finally into Perigueux. We joined a traffic free cycle route which hugged the river Isle and took us along its looping route through the busy town, under weeping willows, past wonderful views of the cathedral and numerous fishermen enjoying a peaceful afternoon. We couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant ride across town and we came presently to the camp site which offered a 10% discount for a three night stay. This seemed like a good idea, especially as there was a bar with riverside terrace, and plastic chairs to be had, so it ws three nights I booked.
We showered , lunched, relaxed, sat around and relaxed until suddenly noticing it was 6pm realised we’d have to find a supermarché soon if we were going to eat properly tonight. The camp attendant spoke no English but gave us detailed and complicated instructions on how to find the local ‘Intermarché’, none of which we understood apart fro various lefts and rights which were clarified with hand signals. We thanked her politely as if we’d taken it all in and decided to just walk into town and hope there was something still open. We rushed up into the center through the cramped little streets and shady squares filled with café tables and eventually came across a small shop selling cheekily marked up groceries. We stocked up on wine and foodstuffs, lugged it all back to camp and after a dinde and pasta dinner enjoyed a drink at the ar as the sun finally gave up its mission to cook us in our skins and fell behind the spires, domes and tiled rooves of the town.