Draw the blinds on yesterday, and it's all so much scarier

It seemed that once again I was first up. I appear to have 8am hardwired into my brain. After a mug of tea, I checked the weather – it wasn’t too windy, and quite bright - and I couldn’t think of a decent excuse not to go out on what would be my last cycle ride in The Lot this season. I quietly got ready and left the house, woke up Mr Rusty and set off across the gravel, the sound of which caused Moiselle to start yapping manically – oh dear, I thought, they’ll all be cursing me for that!

For once I had a destination in mind. I wanted to take a look at the town of Montaigu-de-Quercy as I know a lovely person who has a house there. It didn’t look very far on the map, but it was quite a journey for my trusty steed. I passed through some beautiful valleys, and seemed to have to do a good deal of uphill cycling before I finally descended towards the town. It began to drizzle a little, bit mostly it was fine – I just hoped that Mr Rusty’s bald old tyre would hold out.

Montaigu-de-Quercy did not look much as I approached, but once I climbed up through the steep narrow streets, the place had real charm and character. Just before I turned a corner I heard two English voices: 'Oi, will you get a move on?' 'Alright alright, keep yer hair on.' When I came around the corner we all politely said 'Bonjour' to each other with our bestist French accents. I sat for a while by the church admiring the view. As the clock in the bell tower struck eleven, an elderly priest in old-fashioned garb scuttled out of his house across to the church, bidding me good day as he went about his business. I studied my map and decided to make a circuit by continuing on to Tournon-d’Agenais before returning towards Masquières. I cycled uphill at a snail’s pace for what seemed like an eternity before whizzing downhill for about fifteen minutes to Tournon. Heading back along a tiny lane, I realised that I recognised where I was, as I was crossing the path of yesterday’s randonnée. Throwing caution to the wind I decided to do a bit of off-road cycling, and followed the rocky path through the woods. This turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated, the bike wheels sliding between stones and tree roots and me panting like a bloodhound. After almost garrotting myself on a wire fence, I finally made it back to the reassuring tarmac and finally to the house for a well-earned coffee.

MM&A had already left. We had some lunch (tasty courgette soup) and soon afterwards, Mr Rusty and I were being transported back through the Dordogne countryside to Bergerac. I barely had time to turn around before M&A were at the door to take me to dinner at G&T’s (yes, really) which is about halfway between here and Perigueux.

It was a wonderful evening. We were entertained in great style, and had a fantastic dinner party with delicious food. As well providing us with some exquisite red wines from his vast cellar, T got out his vinyl record collection, and there was much dancing to Tom Jones et al. I secretly wanted Showaddywaddy, but joined in when Abba came on. It’s a good job my camera was in the car or there would be some breath-takingly embarrassing pictures right here.

We said our goodbyes about 2am and set off back to Bergerac. The sky was vividly studded with stars. A few minutes later, our worlds were quite literally turned upside-down.

I have just remembered something which until just now while writing this, I had completely forgotten. I saw the most amazingly clear shooting star, like a dazzlingly bright comet sail in a perfect arc across the sky to the horizon. But that was after the car crash, as I was desperately trying to get help. Funny how I have recalled that now after all that has happened since.