Merde, c’est trop chaud maintenant!

The last time I was in this part of France it was July. Quelle surprise that it was warm. The time before that was in early May – also warm.

False assumption made that it would also be warm in April. Mais non ! Avril est le mois le plus pluvieux de la région et il fait encore assez froid. (Or so I was assured by our landlord and Google). Average temperature 14 by day, 7 or 8 at night. And so I packed accordingly.

For four days it seemed I had it right.

And then it was Saturday – market day in Cordes.

The sun came out and so did the locals.

Suddenly there were tables outside one café and the second café (the one that previously had not been open at all) was.

Suddenly it was summer and all the clothes I’d packed were WRONG. All those lovely cashmere jumpers were wrong. My socks and black ankle boots and waterproof trainers were wrong, wrong, wrong. Merde.

Perhaps it was a fluke?

Sunday destination: The hilltop village and castle/fortress ruins of Penne.

If I look happy in this photo it’s because (a) I’ve just finished a fab lunch on a terrace with a fab view, (b) I’m sitting in the shade and (c) I’m wearing a cotton, not a cashmere, top.

By the time I’d finished climbing up here I was considerably less comfortable with the temperature.

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Sidebar: There’s a display of various objets historiques from the castle’s pre-ruin days. Part of which involves glasswork.

Pretty sure this will interest glassblower Dirk, which it does.

What, I ask him, is the curiously shaped object at the front of this display? He recognises its purpose immediately. Any guesses?

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Hot in Puycelci on Monday. (Thank you, Mariam, for most excellent recommendation.)

Hot in Gaillac on Tuesday. (Although it was reasonably cool inside in the Eglise Saint Pierre, where the sun streaming in through one of the stained-glass windows did give the floor an appealing gay-friendly appearance.)

Hot in Castelnau-de-Montmiral on Wednesday, but another cotton top saved me from fainting.

Woke up Thursday morning and realised I’d been dreaming about all the shirts and tops back home that I should have packed. If I rang my friend Krys, who’s housesitting in my absence, and begged her to put together a parcel for me, how long would it take to get here? Nah, that won’t work.

I got caught out like this in England a few years ago. Packed for early April, got late June. Now that truly was unexpected. Southern France? Really? Just didn’t occur to me that it might get quite warm? I mean, how much space would some t-shirts and light cotton ankle socks have taken up in my suitcase?

Oh, well. Guess I need to get me to a Monoprix.