Another mizzly day, although they are promising that the weather will get much hotter later this week.

I went to the welcome talk, where the lady told us that the wine industry is in a parlous state around here because of climate change, which has also encouraged the caterpillars in the gardens near here to stay all year round and so devastate the box trees even more. The lady tells us that in May Vergt, the town Mary and I visted in Saturday to go to the hypermkarket, hosts Europe’s largest strawberry fair. Surely a good reason to come again?

Because of the weather I thought it might be wise to take up Mary’s suggestion and follow one of the routes suggested in the welcome pack by HPB itself.

We drove to Monpazier, somewhere I remember we failed to get to last time we were here because Nathan kept on throwing up when we went around the very windy roads they have here. This time on the way we stopped at Beaumont and visited a rather spooky Romanesque church which Maddie and I discovered has a wonderful echo.

Monpazier istelf is a splendid fortified town that reminded me a lot of Brouage, where I went last year. (Of course I found a house for sale which I couldn’t sadly identify on the estate agent’s website later.) But it was enlivened slightly more by the presence of a wild mushroom market in the covered arcade in the town square. Maddie thought we were ridiculous, but we bought a kilogram’s worth of huge mushrooms for 10 euros. I thought we could use them to make a lovely mushroom risotto, while Moshe told his mother by WhatsApp that we could mix them with garlic and butter and put them on toast.  (Mary seems to be in touch with Moshe or Jacob on an almost hourly basis. She herself admits she has only once made contact with Rachel since she came back to the UK, and that was the weekend before last. I think by the end of this trip Moshe will be wanting to come here. No harm in that.)

We then drove north to the village of Montferrand, where I finally recognised the restaurant by the lovely stream where we had a meal last time we came, and Maddie and Nathan paid pooh sticks. And then on to another exceptionally pretty village called Saint Avit Senieur, dominated by a huge Romanesque church with another covered market and little streets lined with a beautiful plant with bright purple berries called pokeberry. I assume the berries are poisonous.

Last stop was the caves at Maxange, which were apparently only discovered in the noughties. Maddie and I had a game of outdoor draughts while we waited for them to open. As caves I did not think they were quite as impressive as the ones we saw in Puglia, or for that matter the ones outside Buxton. But it was fun seeing them lit up by ultraviolet light. It made it look as if the stalactites had been splashed with gentian violet, that awful stuff mum used to make us use when we had a mouth ulcer. The guide looked very French and spoke mostly in French.

Then, after narrowly missing a couple of deer on the road – our first encounter with wildlife this holiday – we came home and Mary made a wonderful coq au vin following a recipe that has been framed on the wall. It did take quite a while to make.

A strange, mixed weather kind of day, with spitting showers at one point and warm brilliant sunshine the next. Of course, this meant that there was the inevitable rainbow over Hebden Bridge, with its end coming somewhere in the garden at Machpelah. If only.

We got to the airport in plenty of time, even with Northern Rail providing differing versions of how we were supposed to get there.

Mary was meeting us at the airport, and I was a little worried that she was going to miss the plane when she texted about an hour before departure, asking if we had checked in yet. But we got there. She had checked in some hold baggage.

I was surprised how many lads were on the plane, as I did not think that Limoges, or even France in general for that matter, is a particularly laddish destination. But there were plenty on board, including two in front of us with their regulation skinfade top heavy haircuts. (There again, I can’t talk.) One of them was wearing surprisingly skimpy shorts, and stretched his leg out at one point for a massage in a way that was seriously in danger of revealing everything.

It was quite a long drive down to Constant. But the smells when I walked up to the house we are staying in when we got there were magnificent. How strange, when we are only a few degrees latitude south from where we are in Britain.

I did not recognise Constant at all. But it is 18 and a half years since we were last here.