I have arrived now in Millau, and booked in four another four night stint. To be honest, I had a real anxiety wobble last night, knowing that the next six nights there was nothing booked; it was a public holiday weekend; am I making the most of my time in the Midi; can I book in before 4pm when it says, and so it went on. This, then is where loneliness creeps in when you’re not looking. I had to give myself a stern talking to, because no one else was going to.

Firstly, if I was going to be lonely, it was better to be lonely on holiday than moping around at home. Besides which, I’ve been chatting to folk every day. Next, I am on holiday. If the campsite is booked up, I have options – there’s loads of them here along the river; looking through my various camping memberships I came across Campingcar Card, which tells you how many people are on their aires. Most were less than half full. And anyway, why not go off-motorway for a while? Who cares if I get there late? So I looked up references I remembered from the UK Campsite forum, where posts from “ValA” from 2014 mentioned the Dourbie and Jonte Gorges, mountain vultures and a host of others. So I set the Satnav for one of the villages, and took the risk.

To begin with, and having bought a couple of wine boxes on the way, purely for old times sake you understand, the road took me on to the A75, one of my favourite drives. This takes you on the twisty ascent of the Pas de l’Escalette, about 1000m up, and 6deg cooler. Willma had to drop to 4th gear a few times, but cruised up really. Stopped for a wee, as is my wont these days, at the service station, the followed the Route de Larzac et Dourbie. It seems I’m not done with hills and gorges yet, need to carve another notch on the gearstick. Came into Millau about 12.15, so thought I’d check office hours. A nice chap was just locking up, and I asked I my usual stranglais when it would be open: there were two different times on the window. He made a quick call: “Someone will come.”

After a long chat with Lise, the deputy manager, it transpired the place was nearly empty; had only just reopened for summer, and what is more I was worrying unduly. “How oft doth a bush appear a bear?” as Shakespeare put it. As I was driving, I also remembered a poem I’d printed out for Rosie, when she was having a bad anxiety spell, a while before her final illness:

“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask “What if I fall?”
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
― Erin Hanson

Time to take my own medicine! The site is very green, at the junction of the Tarn with the Dourbie, and next to a famous archeological site. The Merlin app tells me I’m hearing Chaffinches, Blackbirds and a Serin. The ubiquitous blackcap appears, and even a nightingale. Then a heron flies over; Lise tells me they’ve seen the vultures here. The bar is open, and pizzas are go tonight. My kind of place.

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As this post is entitled the Kindness of Strangers, which I think is either a quote or a reference to Patrick Leigh Fermor’s book about a walking expedition down the Danube to Istanbul https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Between_the_Woods_and_the_Water. I have to tell you about Mateusz and Natalya, who I briefly referred to in the last post. I’m sorry, I forgot to take a photo together. To make up for it, here’s a link to Mateusz’ vlog:

Mateusz works in construction, wherever, and Natalya now runs a cleaning company (remotely) in Norway. They were on a trip from Portugal to their home in Sicily, and left early to miss the rain, en route for Lake Garda. We shared a couple of glasses of wine, and many stories. Once again, the subject of neurodivergence came up: Mateusz is ADHD, which is why he talks a lot, he says; one of his ways of ordering the world. He recognised my observations on the subject, contrasting his own view with his father’s, who was an avid reader. And I’ve been invited to visit in Sicily. I’m honoured. It will take a lot of thinking about.

I’ve just teamed up with Martin and Joy, and Belle, their 13yr old gobby longhair Jack Russell. They are originally from Rochester area, now North London; Martin’s an enthusiastic musician and singer/songwriter, who’s just built his own mini-studio. We have moved in similar circles, and he has given me ideas: about music; internet abroad; and Mediterranean campsites. Maybe I shall try Cataluya! I told them about my plan to crash other people’s holidays, and they seemed to understand. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. I’m looking forward to the archeological site next door at La Graufesenque, where they used to make Samian ware. I’ve seen some, in Dartford museum even.

Tomorrow’s another day! After the gips, as golfers call it, I’m now in a much better place, and capable of dealing with uncertainty more. I know some of my readers worry when I describe the darker moments; please don’t, I quickly come round! And it’s turning into a wonderful adventure.