To Brittany - for a Chinese meal.

Now you do sort of get used to it sometimes, when the student and I go away it tends to turn wacky on occasion, well on  all of them really.

Most of the time the student and I are models of good behaviour, we try and be frugal. Even our trips to Brittany to see to the house are characterised by a very detailed and firm eye on keeping the costs down.

Just occasionally though we allow ourselves some slack and get all profligate. This weekend we went a bit mad and splashed out to the tunes of booking ourselves a night in a hotel in Roscoff

But first we sailed into St Malo, one of the loveliest ports in north France, on the Bretagne a Ferry we sailed on when it was new and so were we as an item.  An irresponsible profligacy in the restaurant, they had langoustines in the buffet so I filled the plate, then wonderfully cooked beef followed by a bewildering selection of sweets  some lovely wine and bed in a comfortable cabin.

Bright and early, full of coffee,  into the gloom of October morning we ran off and found the "Route de rhum" in full swing, The harbour was littered with square rigged ships which made a spectacle so tremendous I really wished I had brought  my camera.

A sense of direction would have been a help too and we ended up lost on the wrong side of the, now open, swingbridge.   We did though find our way to the carrefour where we spent some sensible money before we set our sights on Dinan stopping at the intermarche on the way.

Of course the day was enlivened by the Xantias random hydraulic suspension setting: taking it's pick between high medium and low  with no particular sense of it doing anything in particular at any time.

Parking up just outside the medieval walled town we walked down to the house of my old mate Peter and his wife Mina.

Having decided not to bother with breakfast we were just about ready for lunch. A few happy hours and we were on the interminable drage from Dinan to Roscoff via St Brieuc. Thank goodness we timed it right and were past the metropolis before the ruch hour got under way. Roads were still very very crowded by the normal average for  the region.

A couple of hours boredom and we made our way to Roscoff (via the Leclerc Supermarket at St Pol de Leon)

I must say that the car was, by now, on the "full" side of full and we pulled into the carpark of a small hotel, then parked up for the night.

There is only one place to eat in Roscoff and that is a particular Creperie whose name eludes me. It's definitely going to elude me  now because I recommended it on and online review site since then  it is always full  when we go to Roscoff.

So, rejecting the other restauraunts we followed a whim and, in a Breton seaside town we went for a Chinese. Oh dear, what a find, the food was simply superb a superlative packed few hours we were beyond further food  and crawled off to bed. .

Next day, bright and early we had spotted a few odd nooks and crannies in the Xantia so it was off to Red Cash Wine and Beer at St Pol and yet another visit to LeClerc.  

The car was now just about close the doors level full and we went off into town, err to get a meal actually. Thinking I might not need to eat for a good few days we set back for the ferry and a rather choppy trip home. Management chose to sleep this one through, historically she has leaked a few times in rough weather. Not this time though she slumbered all the way home and I read a 200 page book.

Our luck is not always the best and we had landed as one of the very last cars to be taken off the ferry, last but three in fact.

So it was up the M5 and home beckoned.

Luck is indeed not limitless and ours ran out at this stage. The Xantia suspension locked firmly in the down position. This was not good news and I did debate calling the RAC to recover us. This would have added hours to the trip and so I decided to brave it. A thoroughly unpleasant drive in both wind and rain. But we got home, at, well I am not sure when it was and the clocks changed exactly then, so it could have been 2 or 1 or 3 depending how you look at it.

Management is recovered, she has slept bathed and is now busily reflective writing. 

Me, a good few hundred miles driving in a couple of days under my belt, I could use a cold beer and a kip.

Hmmm I think I might know where there is the odd drop of beer.

R