A City Gent

rue De La Mayade, Sigoules 1.13Today was beautiful.  Crisp.  Frosty.  And sunny. I began by wandering around the village roads then walking up the D17 towards Pomport. House off D17, Sigoules 1.13 The donkey, grazing with the goats, gave me a cursory glance and continued his meal.  He too must have grown accustomed to my presence. Birdfeeder 1.13A birdfeeder had been filled along the way.   Past the leisure centre on the way up towards Pomport I have often noticed a minor road descending the slope on the left.  This morning, ignoring the sign proclaiming ‘no entry except for access’, I decided to take it.  At worst I would have to retrace my steps.  Passing through trees on either side, after an almost right-angled bend a long, winding, calf-stretching climb past several tracks leading to houses eventually brought me  to a flat plain high above the fields below. Pomport from approach road 1.13 Up there were the inevitable vineyards and, fortunately, a junction at which a right turn led to Pomport.   I exchanged greetings with a jogger on this plateau, wondering whether he too would take an undulating route.  I certainly wouldn’t have fancied running down the hill I had just climbed.  I always found it easier to run up a steep slope than down it.

As I entered Pomport I encountered a large group of ramblers decanting from their cars and changing their outfits. Ramblers, Pomport 1.13 They had all the right gear: walking boots, sticks, and protective clothing.  They reminded me of Jessica togging up for one of her beloved Lakeland walks.  In those days, when I did accompany her, I dressed more like a city gent.  Although now I still sport a waistcoat and suit jacket when the weather requires more than a T-shirt and shorts, I do at least wear jeans and appropriate footwear.

Walking down the twisting and turning D17 back to Sigoules I felt the same sharp wind as yesterday.  Obviously it was behind me on the way up, for I hadn’t noticed it.

Upon my return I cooked a sausage casserole.  As it was made with ‘Rose de Sigoules’  (that’s rose as in the flower, not pink wine} 2009, I drank the rest of the bottle.  I used a glass with a yellow ball in the stem which had contained I can’t remember what produce from Carrefour.  Whatever it was Jackie and I didn’t buy any more of it, so we couldn’t complete the set.

Afterwards, a foursome of Fred, Laurence, Graham, and I watched Italy beat France at Rugby.

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