Our first impressions of Bordeaux were that it was a bit seedy, but that was because we walked to our hotel from the station through a rather run-down area of town.

The streets were dirty, doors and walls were splattered with grafitti and some potentially pleasant houses stood abandoned and neglected. I could sympathise with the woman I overheard complaining at reception that she felt unsafe walking back after dark.

However, when we managed to find the 'real town' it was a different story. The place was buzzing with tourists - mainly there for the rugby - and had lively cafés and interesting shops. Not that we explored them that much because having discovered the public transport system Bear was content to see the sights from the window of a bus or a tram.

On the way to Toulouse the English couple behind us were going to a rugby match. The husband was obviously a keen supporter whereas his wife was  indifferent and in a rather bad mood. He was well organised with a map and I ventured to ask him if he could find the road where our next hotel was. He reckoned it would be about half an hour's walk from the station 'if we were fit' so we opted for a taxi.

This was the only time we were ripped off - 20 euros - nearly double the fare for a longer journey between stations in Paris. (It only cost 12 on the way back at the end of our stay).

The receptionist provided us with a map and we walked the fairly short distance to the main square and  sat down at one of the pavement cafés for a cool drink. There was loud cheering from people watching the match on television and service was slow. But what did it matter: this was a holiday.

Bear decided he didn't like the route I had chosen (using the plan). The streets were 'boring' so he found another more convoluted way back.

We hadn't eaten since breakfast and I was really looking forward to a leisurely meal to round off the day. But Bear was suddenly stricken with a bout of S and D.

He spent the early evening shut in the loo and then retired to bed about half past eight. Meanwhile, I was starving. Room service was expensive but I didn't feel I should leave him alone and go to the restaurant so I dialled the number and asked for a 'Plateau Bien-etre' (consisting of  prawn salad, fish in sauce and fruit salad) and, what the hell, a glass of Chablis to accompany it.

The next morning he was still off colour but  insisted on coming down to breakfast to watch me eat. We wandered gently round town until he fancied a snack about mid-afternoon. The tummy bug had run its course.

One of the highlights of our stay in Toulouse was a boat-trip on a very long barge driven from the back - so I've no idea how the 'captain' could see where he was going. This was the only time we really heard the local accent - cinquante cinq comes out like 'sinkont sink' and the overall effect of the phrasing is quite musical.

The 'driver' navigated the narrow entrance to the lock leading to the Canal du Midi with amazing accuracy - only the slightest bump - and his wife (well past middle age) shinned up a ladder to close the lock gates manually. He explained that several hundred years ago they had planted plane trees beside the canals not realising that the leaves took a good five years to decompose. This results in serious clogging up but each section of canal is only cleaned once every forty-five years. It has been calculated that unless they maintain the canals more efficiently it won't be too many years before they become impassable.

One more lock and we were back on the Garonne. He pointed out the main buildings on each bank and explained about the bridges which have holes through to reduce the pressure when the water level is too high. On one bridge the holes were intended to be decorated to represent roaring lions but they ran out of funds. With a bit of imagination you can see what they intended.

It was in Toulouse that we had a bit of a difference of opinion about meals. We had decided that we'd only indulge in one 'good meal' a day and just have a snack at lunchtime but my dreams of sampling some local specialities were still unfulfilled. Five days into the holiday and we had only had one 'proper' meal - and then Bear had the nerve to say he'd never seen me eat so much.

What!!!??? Maybe it was because I was always so humgry that if I did get near anything remotely edible I would tuck in. Problem was it was more likely to be a prepacked salad or sandwich from a station buffet (taken back to the hotel room) than a nice meal in a cosy restaurant.

On Tuesday we set off for Avignon. By this time I was beginning to count the hours till we were on the way home. But not without some pangs of guilt. Bear couldn't help having dodgy knees or a gippy tummy. However, there was no need for some of his unkind remarks.

He decided he didn't like the summer trousers I was wearing and kept on about how dreadful I looked. Then he picked up on the slightest remark that might have been construed as vaguely pessimistic and accused me of 'always looking on the black side'. I began to feel I dare not say anything at all. It was better to keep quiet than try to second guess his possible reaction to an innocently intended statement.

Fortunately the hotel in Avignon was right next door to the station and also within easy walking distance of the town centre. Unfortunately, the tiny map the receptionist gave us was completely inaccurate and totally useless.

We set out for our first evening's exploration but without discussing where exactly we would go. As usual Bear led and I followed. I suspected he would want to see 'the' bridge but every time we came to a sign saying Palais des Papes (the bridge is next to it) he turned in the opposite direction. Eventually he came to an arch leading out of the town. I could see a repetition of the argument in Bordeaux looming.

My rumbling tummy was making me a bit irritable as I'd eaten nothing since breakfast.

"Where are we going then?"

I think he was trying to make for the bridge but a glance at our surroundings was enough to tell him that it wasn't situated at that particular spot. The ensuing altercation ended with

"If you're so clever you lead the way then."

Fortunately I remembered that there were excellent signs and all I had to do was follow them. Sure enough we came to the Palais des Papes and gladly sat down for a drink. Once again service was painfully slow but  we were pleased of a seat.

It was obvious that, even if Bear were interested, he wouldn't be able to cope with the steps on a tour of the palace. If the visit didn't last too long maybe we could try tomorrow. He could sit with a beer or two while I looked round.

We tried to make out the logic of the plan we had been given. The tourist office was closed and the lady at the tabac where we asked for a town map said she had sold out. Even the signs for the bridge were a bit ambiguous but we did get there eventually.

It was finding the back that was the problem. Somehow or other we got lost in a labyrinth of narrow streets. It was fascinating wandering round at first but became extremely worrying when Bear's knees began to play up. After what seemed like hours we found 'civilisation' and limped back to the hotel.

Back in our room I freshened up and changed out of the offending trousers looking forward to trying the restaurant. Bear crashed out on the bed. He snored for a good half an hour and when he woke I got the distinct impression that our dinner date was off. He didn't want anything at all. There was no room service. I found half a packet of chocolate biscuits and scoffed those.

However, the last day of the holiday was probably the best. No Popes' Palace: the visit would take a good hour and a half; but we looked round the church nearby and then took a tour on the little train going through the town. Surprisingly it took in some of the same route that we had walked the previous day and needed some very skilful driving to avoid colliding with walls or pedestrians.

Then, for the final evening we had a real dinner -a mixture of fish in sauce and a selection of cheeses.

The  train to Paris wasn't till 12.33 on the last day but we just killed time in the hotel until 11 and then waited around at the station.

We arrived home at 7.30 that evening. Jay and CC had prepared a simple but delicious meal but Bear didn't want anything. He took himself off to bed.

All back to normal then.

A few observations about trains and stations:

Our timetable was as follows:

Thursday: Charleville - Paris - Bordeaux

Saturday:  Bordeaux - Toulouse

Monday:  Toulouse  -  Ax-les-Thermes  -  Toulouse

Tuesday:  Toulouse  -  Avignon

Thursday:   Avignon  -  Paris  -  Charleville

It was interesting to note the large number of fat little sparrows who live in the stations. You'd think they wouldn't stand a chance among all the pigeons but they are expert at obtaining scraps. We watched a chap tossing crumbs into the air for the little birds to fly up and intercept  before the big ones could get near. Then a pigeon tried the same trick and was clumsy by comparison. However, all the birds looked well fed and in good condition apart from a missing toe here and there. I wonder how that happens . . . .?

It was surprising that our tickets weren't checked very often throughout the week. There were the usual announcements about 'composting' your tickets before boarding the train and telling the conductor promptly if you hadn't done so and then no-one bothered to come and check anyway. However, on the odd occasion when the ticket inspector came round he also insisted on looking at our 'Cartes Senior'.

On the whole, French trains are more comfortable, certainly cheaper than in England and usually very efficient,  but at Ax-les Thermes we were taken by surprise while waiting for the train on platform 3 - as indicated on the board - when, at the scheduled departure time, an official came out of the station and was prepared to whistle off the train that had been standing empty at platform 2. A few other travellers who had been waiting on platform 3 got on hastily and we stood up and asked if it was going to Toulouse.

"Oh, are you travelling?" said the guard in mild surprise as he opened the door for us.

It is very ungrateful of me but I have to say the holiday was not an unmitigated success.

The stress far outweighted any relaxation, there was little chance to sample the local cuisine or wine and no hope at all of visiting any interesting attractions.

Bear's mood varied from 'sort of good' to 'bl***dy miserable and badtempered'. In fairness, his legs played him up some of the time and he was suffering from a tummy upset for a couple of days. There's nothing worse than feeling off colour when you're away from home but he wouldn't consider cutting the holiday short.

In a way, he made his problems worse by doing daft things to 'waste' walking. For example, on our first morning in Bordeaux he set off from the hotel in the opposite direction from the town centre with the air of a man on a mission.

We walked past an industrial zone and followed the road for some time before I ventured to ask where we were going. He muttered something about wanting to see the river.

Well, it was obvious we were making for the outskirts along a main road. Between us and the river was a dual carriageway and a high wall. As far as the eye could see there was no bridge or turning to the left. Eventually I spotted a bus-stop on the other side of the road.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to catch a bus?" I suggested.

"I want to see a bridge", he retorted. "Why are you always so critical of the things I want to do?"

"It's not that. It's just that I would've thought any bridge worth seeing would be near the town centre - not in the opposite direction."

This brought on a flurry of cross words and insults referring to the fact that I don't have a sense of direction so how dare I question his superior knowledge and finishing with the sarcastic remark that if I was so clever then I could lead and he would follow me.

OK, I took him at his word and made for the bus-stop. Fortunately there was a map and I asked him to show me the bridge he had in mind. He pointed to the one near the centre of town.

"Well, we're going the wrong way". (I admit my sense of direction is non-existent but  I can read a map).

"No we're not, we're here somewhere" he blustered, indicating the north west corner of the map.

"We are walking south along Quai de Brienne" I pointed out. "So we need to get a bus back the way we came."

He swore and protested but then waited at the bus-stop in sullen silence. According to the timetable the next one was due at 27 minutes past and it was only a couple of minutes late.

The bus driver was helpful and explained that it would be to our advantage to buy a daypass which would be valid for any bus or tram for 24 hours.

So  for 4.20 euros  each we spent the rest of our time exploring the city by a very comfortable and efficient public transport system.

If you read the Bold Soul you willl see that some people are really well organised when they go away.

But not me.

This time on Thursday we should be on the train to Paris and I'm far from ready. I haven't even made a list of things to do or things to take. There is a pathetically small pile of 'clean and not to be worn till holiday' clothes on the shelf in the utility room and a few items for last minute shopping on the chalkboard in the kitchen - like catfood, cornflakes, toothpaste and shampoo. (The first two are to stay here by the way - just in case you thought we were taking the cats with us!)

Bear has not decided which cases he wants to take. I've suggested the two wheelie ones but he's not keen. Can't think why not. They're much more convenient.

Despite the fact that there's such a lot to do, my mind is a complete blank. I'm neither excited nor worried. There's a sort of quiet confidence - or maybe unwarranted optimism - that all will be ready on time.

As for the blog, I will be away until October 4th but don't go away.

Watch this space.

You get used to waiting, especially at the chemist and on the hard chairs in the packed salle d'attente at the opthalmologist's but when we went to book our holiday at the train station we caused a long and unpopular tailback.

It was a mistake to hope that during the lunchbreak was a good time. There were already five people in front of us and only one position open - manned by a young girl who was learning the ropes.

A more senior lady was esconced at the next desk with the 'postion fermé' light on. At the desk for 'departs immediats' another lady came and went but wasn't going to open up.

Eventually our turn came and I warned the young girl that we might be a long time as we wanted to book a holiday with hotels as well.

She asked if anyone in the queue was getting a train in the next hour. There were no takers so she turned to us with a slightly uneasy smile.

I passed over my list of dates, places and times and mentally crossed my fingers. At the first hotel she hit a problem as she couldn't tell me whether the price she quoted was for one or two nights or one or two people.

The supervisor leaned over and made a few suggestions. The poor girl tried to carry on but soon got into difficulties again. Bear started asking me what was going on but before I could explain the senior lady smiled and answered him in English.

At last, she came and stood behind the computer and joined in properly. By this time the growing queue was getting restless so she went to the door and called the other girl to come and open her position.

I dared to turn round to face the hostile stares from the impatient would-be travellers and was surprised to find that the queue now did two U turns round the booking hall. No wonder I had felt unpleasant vibes aimed at my back.

The girl at the other desk was more efficient and so things started to move but there were still mutterings and complaints. The supervisor, Stephanie (we had learnt her name by now) was adept at answering queries from  this other girl, teaching her 'student', explaining to us in English and fielding complaints and insults all at the same time without losing her cool - or her smile.

"The Carolomaciens (inhabitants of Charleville) don't like waiting", she said to us in English, "and they love insulting 'fonctionaires'".

An hour later we thanked Stephanie and her assistant for their help and patience and left the booking hall clutching a thick wad of tickets and vouchers and trying to avoid the daggers coming our way from the eyes of our fellow(?) travellers.

On the way home we stopped at the chemists for two prescriptions. That 'only' took forty minutes - and there was quite a queue waiting by the time we left.

There hasn't been much time to keep up with blogging but I must share this little story.

On Wednesday we had a cooking session and prepared meals for two days; chicken and mirabelle tagine for the first evening and a fish pie for Thursday.

Fish pie is one of Whale's favourites but after he complained about the salmon mousse starter that CC had made for Wednesday one of our guests mischievously announced that Jay had made the fish pie. She waited until everyone had pronounced it good and had second helpings and then said to me,

"Jay did a good job with the fish pie didn't he?"

Bear looked up quickly and then came out with,

"I knew there was something wrong with it. He put too many herbs in it and it was too wet."

Elaine had to leave the table to have a good laugh. She went upstairs to tell CC and Jay and they creased up too.

Ever since our day in Paris, Bear has been wanting to have another train trip. The weather forecast was favourable for once so I suggested going somewhere this week.

We agreed on Lille as neither of us knows it except to walk the 400 metres from Lille Flandres to change for Eurostar.

Wednesday dawned and Bear was suddenly very solicitous for my health when I took a Nurofen. (I often wake up with a stiff neck but it passes once I move).

"Are you sure you feel like going?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. I'm just playing safe. How about you? Are your legs playing up?

"No, I'm fine," he insisted. "I was just thinking of you."

Now, this isn't like the Bear. If he wants to go somewhere and detects the slightest hint of reluctance on my part he makes a fuss.

So we played cat and mouse. He kept 'making sure' I was OK and I replied with similar signs of anxiety for his state of health. No way was I going to take the blame if we didn't go this time but I couldn't help wondering if he didn't feel up to it but wouldn't admit it.

Eventually we set off.

The journey there was noisy because of a family of three children and dad. They boarded the train at the last minute and dad found seats dotted around us and then went to get the luggage.

There were two free seats behind us so I suggested to Bear that we move there and let the family have the four together where we were.

He reluctantly agreed but then moaned because he didn't have such a good view because part of the window was obscured.

When the kids started talking loudly and excitedly Bear really began to simmer. Then a second family of youngsters began to run up and down.

It was a huge relief when we arrived at Lille.

The town is much more alive than Charleville and has many more shops and large pedestrian areas. The older buildings show a Flemish influence and there are some very attractive squares.

We looked in a couple of churches - St Maurice where Vierne first heard the sound of the organ and was inspired to play it himself (he was to become organist at Notre Dame de Paris) - and Notre Dame de Treille where the organ is being renovated. Bear would have given anything to jump over the barrier and get involved but had to content himself with talking photos.

There was a huge choice of cafes and I suggested eating outside at a brasserie offering pork in mustard sauce or cheese salad as plats du jour. Bear ordered pork and I had salad but he didn't like his meal - and I got the blame.

"I wouldn't have chosen to eat here."

"Well, you could have said no and we'd have gone somewhere else."

"No, you insisted on coming here."

Lille has lots of interesting bookshops and I took Bear into Le Furet du Nord where a helpful sales assistant brought all the train books from the bottom shelf and put them within reach for him so that he didn't have to bend. He chose two rather expensive tomes and I found a copy of Jane Eyre (in French) which I hoped would appeal to my friend Yvette.

There were several branches of Paul, a well known patisserie and boulangerie and we stocked up on fougasse and tarte au citron to bring home.

Towards the middle of the afternoon Bear's legs began to seize up and we had to stop for frequent coffees so that he could sit down.

Despite having a map he couldn't figure out the way  to the station and was reluctant to believe that the policeman I had asked had indicated the shortest route but we made it in good time without him collapsing.

The return journey was free from noisy children but the train itself made an incessant squeaky whistling sound that nearly drove us both mad.

When we arrived in Charleville and went to the car, Bear was not happy to find that I had left my window open. Fortunately nothing was missing but it gave him a good excuse to complain all the way home.

The only time Bear blotted his copybook was the very first evening.

We arrived just too late to help with fetching tables from the school and village hall but just in time for dinner.

The food had only just been served when Bear started a 'domestic'. Our longsuffering hostesses had heard it all before and were half expecting it. At least, he was told that he could get it off is chest that evening and then forget it. We were there for a party not marriage guidance.

The problem was that he had ammunition for firing red herring in that CC and Jay still haven't found much work BUT the problem lies with our relationship. I left him because I was fed up with being his 'possession'. He has given me no reason to believe that his attitude has changed so he'll have to accept being looked after on my terms - and that does not include a Derby and Joan existence tied to his apron strings.  End of story.

He sulked a bit the next day but by the time the party started he was fine.

On Saturday morning he went off with one of his daughters to see the other one and I went home with another party guest to meet her new kittens and then she took me to see Tracey (see comments box). The three of us taught at the same school.

On Sunday we went to see friends who have moved to Aylsham and admired their low maintenance garden (none of us is getting any younger). It has taken a lot of work but they now have decking, raised flower beds - where they also grow salad and vegetables - and a pergola approached by wooden  'steps' set in stones.

The lady who bought our house took us for lunch at the village pub and then showed us round our former home. She has undertaken major improvements. We were most impressed.

In the afternoon we caught up with my sister's news and then went on to visit Bear's daughter in her new home. There is an awful lot of work to be done but it's a lovely house and very interesting garden with an old arched wall. It will take time but it's going to be super.

On Monday we had lunch with friends who are trying to sell their beautiful cottage and buy a  more 'arthritis friendly' house and then we rushed into Norwich to meet Camille, our French friend's son who is studying and working there as part of his university course.

We bumped into him quite by chance the following day, which I had tried to keep clear for shopping. Bear bought himself a new digital camera and I upgraded my daughter's ancient mobile in the O2 shop. It was a good deal - £13 for a brand new phone and the girl kindly saved all the data on the simcard and put it in for me. This was so much cheaper and more straightforward than buying a mobile in France.

We interrupted the shopping to meet Bear's brother at the station. Although we got there five minutes before his train was due in we saw this little old man patiently waiting. He had taken an earlier one! We went into the buffet and risked the coffee. Poor J (he is 86) has been through the mill healthwise since I last saw him and it has taken its toll. Nevertheless he remained bright and cheerful and chatted away about the family and a recent trip to Ireland for the wedding of one of his grandsons. His wife has broken a bone in her foot (on top of various other illnesses) so couldn't come with him. He had to get home to take care of her so he only stayed half an hour. He and the Bear are half brothers so that may account for the fact that they are so completely different in character. . . .

I really had hoped for a good browse in Marks and Spencers  so I suggested the Bear might take Camille for a coffee. No way, he didn't want to do that so I found the top CC wanted and then got a couple of pairs of trousers to try on. Unfortunately there was a queue for the changing room and Bear got a bit stroppy. I stuck it out only to find that the size 16 CC usually buys for me was way too small.

Camille showed us a good place for a snack in the new Mall which has sprung up where the old chocolate factory used to be and then we said goodbye and set off to visit Beattie and her master. 

This little dog was so excited to meet new people she nearly jumped herself inside out but she calmed down and enjoyed being fussed over. She is absolutely gorgeous and I can believe my friend (a former colleague) when he says she has changed his life. His wife is still teaching but it was funny to watch  Beattie go and greet her when she came home and then sit down in front of her, tail going nineteen to the dozen. "That's because she knows she's going to get a biscuit" we were told.

For the final evening we took our hostesses to dinner at a local restaurant. The last time the Bear and I had been there it was for his birthday, years ago. We had booked a table but were kept waiting for ages until the menus were brought. Then it was a good 20 minutes before they took our order and another long wait before they announced that what I had ordered was off. We got up and left and had a birthday meal of cheese and biscuits with champagne at home.

This time, we had a very good meal but the new owners had spoiled the ambiance by changing the decor. Never mind - the food was excellent.

It has to be said that, apart from that first evening, Bear was very well behaved, so it turned out to be a most enjoyable week.

Despite the unseasonal, chilly weather it wasn't too cold to enjoy the evening - and the rain held off despite the threatening clouds.

Wine flowed freely and the food was absolutely fabulous. The music and entertainment were terrific and an excellent time was had by all.

The wimps among us went to bed at midnight but the party continued inside the neighbour's house for several hours.

There are a few photos under 'Party' if you'd like to see them.

Let me share a few 'train moments with the Bear':

On the way to Lille, Bear plonked our case down in front of a service door. I pointed out the sign saying 'leave clear - door in use' but Bear just swore at me. I picked up the case and moved to another seat. Staff were toing and froing throughout the journey. I gave Bear a 'meaningful look' the first time someone went through but he turned away.

It was my first trip on Eurostar and so I'll admit I was excited. Bear accused me of behaving like a schoolkid. So I retorted that it was better than being a grumpy old sod.

As Bear is inclined to keep the tickets in his (sweaty) shirt pocket I insisted on having them in my handbag. If I couldn't produce them instantly when required he grumbled.

While queuing for tickets at Liverpool Street, Bear couldn't quite hear that the lady behind the window was turning away anyone who tried to join the line behind him. As he approached someone else came up behind him and the lady started shouting and waving again. Bear thought she meant she wouldn't serve him so he began to get cross. I had to intervene (from where I was waiting in another queue) and, fortunately, he got the message and was quite nice to her - despite the fact that she had to inform us that if we travelled before 7p.m. it would cost £66 each but after 7 it would be £50 for both of us. Bear said he didn't want to buy the bloody train; just travel on it, so we decided to wait it out and found a seat from where we could 'people watch.'

It was actually quite interesting and made the time pass more quickly. Most passersby had very serious, almost miserable, expressions but those with a mobile attached to their ear were more likely to be smiling or grinning broadly as they talked animatedly.

The station filled with businessmen and women in suits, casually dressed travellers and holidaymakers weighed down with luggage. Most were clutching a newspaper, their ticket, or something to eat as they strode, sauntered, shuffled or bounced towards their chosen mode of transport.

Once on the train we found seats easily but it soon filled up. Bear was horrified when a chap near us put his laptop on the table of the seat next to him and a young woman put her bag on the floor by the seat beside hers and then started gossiping loudly on her mobile.

We heard all about her latest (s)exploits, her period problems and some of the bitchiness at work. It wasn't surprising that no-one challenged her for the spare seat until there was no other choice. Laptop man had soon been asked to occupy his own place but it took a more desperate commuter to interrupt her call and ask for the seat. She glared at him and complained that her luggage wouldn't fit on the rack. He said he'd put it up for her and did so. She continued her gossip a little longer but then made sure that she disrupted her fellow passenger by trying to get something out of her case.

Even though I had to agree with Bear's loud comments on these situations I certainly wouldn't have voiced them. Perhaps I'm too polite?