|Looks like (and felt like) a confrontation with the Sahara.|
Later on I practised some paradiddles on my leg-mounted drum pad using an internet metronome on the laptop:
Highlight of any Campsite holiday:
Visited the camp launderette when I got back from drumming on the beach. I just love doing this:
Nothing is ever straight-forward at these French launderettes. Washing tablets were to be purchased at the checkout of the campsite supermarket. But how many were to be used at one time: one or two
So I asked the chap who is usually on the till at the checkout - the spitting image of President Hollande, incidentally.
|Mmmh! One or two?|
Me: Do you know how many of these tablets one puts into the machine?
Hollande: I don't know. I never use the place. I've a machine at home .......... and a woman to operate it.
Cycled to Vias for morning Mass at St John the Baptist:
Cycled round the back streets of Vias:
|The French love their trompe l'oeil|
And discovered the SNCF station at Vias:
|The main building is all boarded up.|
|And replaced by a little shelter.|
|Vias is on the Beziers-Montpellier line.|
|Disused sidings behind the platform.|
|Auntie Flo on Rinse FM|
|No better book to read when it's as hot as it has been today.|
|A sentence a day.|