Fountain 22, Lavedieu, 4 August

I followed my instincts from La Chaise-Dieu to Allier. I had the whole day to arrive at the barn of my new Anglo-Franco friends. I aimed roughly south west and came upon fresh shining black tarmac looping through dense deciduous forests. Blueberries, strawberries and raspberries were nearly leaping off their bushes. What else could I do but stop and pick handful after handful until I was stained blue and purple like an ancient Celt covered in woad. Then I found a safe place to park Louise and curled up in a mossy patch for an afternoon nap. It felt like a fairy tale, although I couldn't say which one, and nothing terrible happened to me apart from a couple ant bites.

Signs for Lavedieu claimed it was one of the most beautiful villages in France. It was lovely, but it was a preserved in aspic sort of place, like a museum exhibit lacking the edginess of reality. It also lacked drinking water and I was parched.







             Another eau non potable fountain.

My plastic water bottle was warm and crinkled, leaking free radicals into the stale water. The heat of the stones came through my clothes making it as uncomfortable as a radiator to sit on.

 

A lovely jewel of a church. 

11th Century volcanic stone and filled with frescoes, carvings,

free standing sculptures and Far East tourists.

 A peculiar lion-bodied 'green man' figure.

  

Having been raised a Catholic I often forget that the well known saints I see in churches

 aren't familiar faces to everyone who visits. 

This little group of tourists obviously looked upon my familiar symbols 

with surprise and amusement.

The twisted body of St. Sebastian, mounted on the pilaster 

supporting the arch, sent them into fits of barely stifled giggles which echoed around the church.

  Taking it in turns, they stood beside him, imitated his pose with encouragement and 

adjustments to get it just right and then took plenty of snap shots to take back home with them.