They say life is made for good friends and great adventures; especially one who knows when you need to take a break and gives you a kick up the wotsit to actually book a few days away. After having spent a couple of days lounging by the pool during the day and putting our worlds to right all night, bestie Rene and I hit the autoroute south-east – to Avignon we went. The woofers, by the way, were left in the charge of Denis so didn’t bat a paw as we left.

I’d chosen Avignon as it wasn’t too much of a drive away and I’d always wanted to see the Palais des Papes; gothic architecture being a passion of mine and Rene loves anything historical. Following her GPS (much safer on my nervous system), we got to our chambres d’hôtes in good time but having arrived a bit too early to unload, we parked up outside and took to the streets. And what beautiful streets they were too – statuesque buildings rising up to a blue sky whilst down below, outdoor cafes brimming with people sipping coffee and wine in the sunshine under giant parasols. Naturally we joined them, one should always try and fit in. And we needed time to get our bearings having bought a couple of days worth of ‘tourist passes’ so we wouldn’t have to pay at the doors so to speak. There’s a lot to see in Avignon. Schedule sort of sorted, we took a stroll up to the main attraction and boy, it didn’t disappoint. The Palais towers over a large square, its gargoyles peering down at the pedestrians from the building’s impressive exterior, metal studded turrets looking a bit like a dominatrix’ dream, the stone surrounds commanding the view. But that was the next day’s visit, so we popped back to unload and room sorted, popped back out to town for a very nice dinner and far too much wine. The early hour return amusingly noted by the couple sitting next to us at breakfast the following morning and with whom we chatted over coffee and home-made yummies as if old friends.

I really would recommend Avignon and its sights although, for me, the interior of the Palais des Papes was a little under-whelming compared to its facade. Much of it has been rebuilt and the tablets we were given to show us what it would have looked like kept switching off. The gardens attached to the place are stunning however, fragrant roses and herb plantings perfectly lined up so you could amble quietly through the greenery although our appreciation was dampened by a very loud German lady trying to get her tour group in one place. Rene and I did go to the famous Pont d’Avignon; well I say we but I only got as far as the beginning of the bridge before my vertigo took over. She took pictures for me. We took in the indoor food market and a couple of museums too and the touristy thing of souvenir shopping. The car still smells of lavender.

With the final evening spent dining decadently (and a little more measured with the wine) under the shadow of the Palais, we left the city to take a little detour to visit a little town with a well-known name – Chateauneuf-du-Pape and to buy a few bottles of the famed vin before heading further into the deep Provence countryside to pootle around L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. The latter was just stunning; built around the river of the same name, the clear and I mean crystal clear waters decorated with ancient waterwheels and tiny streets littered with antique shops. Sadly we couldn’t spend more than an hour there, the home journey beckoned but Rene had had the right idea – I relaxed. Well, almost. There was that little hitch with trying to find a petrol station (the autoroutes around Provence don’t seem to provide such emergency services) so we had to veer off into Nîmes during peak hour traffic – not recommended. The drivers are nuts and even the GPS had trouble finding directions to the nearest pump, my near temper meltdown only that because Rene told me to shut up. She knows me so well, she’s been there before if you remember our last adventure in the Mothership – at least this time I didn’t take any wheel arches off the car and toll gates have been left untainted.

Anyway, thanks to her, I had a wonderful break away from the norm and the woofers thoroughly enjoyed being pampered by Denis, even if he did mix up Mo and Coco’s nappies – girl nappies don’t fit boys if you get my drift. Poor chap, I didn’t find out until later that he was fighting a fever – he thinks he might have had a touch of the Covid after Morocco. Thankfully he is back to himself now and very happy to have his girl home.

So there you go, Sophi had a chance to chill out. Perfect timing. Things are changing here readers…https://www.bac-immobilier.com/vente/11-aude/766-preixan/entre-limoux-et-carcassonne/12559-maison-de-village. (You might even spot Simi)

“Sometimes all you need is a great friend and a tank of gas.” (Thelma & Louise)