First some spiritual refreshment.  An old man sat down on a bench opposite the church, and two elderly women began having an animated argument outside the now closed boulangerie.  As I crossed the road towards the grand church entrance I waved at the man, but he simply lowered his gaze and spat at a pigeon strutting past his bench.

As usual the church was dark, but soon I could make out the light of the Blessed Sacrament behind the high altar, and I stiffly genuflected before moving further into the building.  Someone had left a prayer stool in the aisle, and I let out a muffled curse as I nearly went sprawling across the pews.  The Lord surely has a sense of humour!

There was insufficient light to explore the church or even read from my trusty and well- thumbed breviary, so I resolved to return in the morning.  Perhaps there would be a Mass to attend! 

Outside the restaurant I read the menu for dinner.  Deciding that I had already eaten well that day I would dine simply that evening, and my eyes alighted with glee on the 10F menu which included mutton soup (with or without cheese – I would have it with), fresh vegetables, local bread, and a home-made gateaux or regional cheeses to finish.  Perhaps the cheeses.  I had heard that this part of France was renowned for its fromages. 

I was certainly not disappointed, and succumbed to both gateaux and cheese. 

I returned, rather full, to my hotel and wandered through the lobby. By chance I came across a rack of tourist information leaflets, and spent a minutes thumbing through a few of them.  One intrigued me – inviting visitors to take a tour of one of the local goats’ cheese factories.  It was only two kilometres away, and would not delay my pilgrimage too much. 

I retired early tonight after such an excellent meal, to write my journal, and anticipate the events of the day to come.  Church, followed by cheese.  What an excellent prospect for this pilgrim, tired yet strong in the Lord!