Templar Tahiti pizza

Awake early in the mountains of Auvergne and today’s mission was as far as Gouillons. We stopped in Bourges for lunch. There’s a grand Cathedral there, and we found a little rural place for wine and pasta lunch. We are deep enough in France that there’s no way in hell they’ll speak English to you so I’ve had to get to work especially since most villages only have three people that have met a vegetarian, and I’m with Lou…

One day drive from home now and all the emails are coming in about the next stage in the adventure. I’m sad I’ll be away from Lou for two weeks though, as it’s been lovely having a sputnik on the return journey through France. God it’s a long way, but long distances get much shorter in company. Bergie is doing fantastically, although his tyre pressure went very weird yesterday after leaving the heat and going up into the cold. I’ve blown most of my fee and all my expenses for this job on luxurious food and a car full of wine. I’ll get back much happier but none the richer, but a job like driving to Majorca in November is never gonna be about richness of pocket. It’s been an adventure.

Tonight we are staying in Gouillons in an ancient Templar house that has been restyled by the current owners into a South Pacific themed B&B with attached Pizzeria selling Tahiti themed pizzas amongst palm trees and pictures of girls in hula skirts and great big colorful murals. It is one of the most incongruous pairings. Philippe the owner was in his Hawaiian shirt bustling around. There are parrots and cats and fish and some other kind of domesticated bird in the kitchen about which I have no idea. Stone floors, wood beams in the ceiling, cowrie shells and tiki torches. A huge stone wetroom for a shower and bathroom. If they had a sound system it would be playing yellow bird on an accordion. “What’s the connection with The South Pacific?” I ask Philippe. He’s standing with his back to a scale model of a crashed propellor plane amongst palm trees. “I lived there for four years when I was 28. This is my souvenir.” Lou and I see nobody else all evening and we hope it is because it’s Armistice Day. I really hope people in this tiny town frequent his kitchen. It’s a great pizza, they are fun people and it makes no sense whatsoever and is better by far for that.

The internet is buggered though. The chances of me uploading this area second to none, and none at all if I try to attach a picture. It’s bedtime, so I’m gonna pad down the stone hall to see if there’s a place where I can make it work, and if not this will just have to be sent when I’m back on the road tomorrow…

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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