Bordeaux is a very beautiful city of bike riding, smiling, friendly people and is recommended for a visit even though if you visit somewhere with such obvious attractions where you rub along with the locals and your not too distant family tree means you might have even come from here had things been different, and if you’re feeling more and more alienated by your own country as it becomes increasingly ugly and full of hate, you might find it hard to leave.
A few pictures of the heather under the uncharacteristic English bank holiday sunshine.
Weather forecasters start liberally sprinkling their reports with the word autumnal
quite early into August in this country but the leaves are still pretty green, we haven’t had a frost yet and the narrow roads are still very much clogged with the enormous camper vans that summer holiday tourists deem the best way to see the countryside so sadly actual autumn as opposed to London media autumn remains a couple of weeks away but if you get out early enough, go high enough and breath deeply enough you can just detect that dampness in the air and its alluring promise of quiet roads, silent fells and cyclists once more being the same colour all over their body.
what the heck, they’ll all be over in a week. This is a little wood above the road through the dale, just catching the early morning light for the benefit of folks on bikes who can see over the bank and who don’t sleep much.
Sorry, more bluebells I’m afraid, but in my defence it is kind of a special time of year, there seems to be a better than average spread of these this spring, there are few things to lift an English person’s heart as much as a bluebell wood in May and I’ve been stuck indoors all week so staggering out blinking in to the early morning sunlight today is like coming up for air.