At the moment my architect has one set of keys and my potential gardener the other. This leaves me effectively locked out of my own house. I decided to take Jacques for a drive. I had been wanting to explore the coastal towns. We live so close to the coast that it influences the weather and the light, but it is surprising how soon one loses a visual connection with the water. Anyway, I drove south, almost to La Rochelle, then took a side road when I saw the word “port.” That seemed like a good sign. Of all things, we came across a 17th century fortified church, the Eglise Saint-Martin, which still has its paintings inside; I guess the fortifications were effective. Jacques is good in churches. He never squirms. We explored and launched ourselves north. The port itself was where bored guys go to hang. They bring their fishing rods and their radios — tuned to a soccer game, of course — and who knows what all, but Jacques and I were definitely wrecking the mood, so we cut out pretty quickly. I found one of the clear advantages to living close enough to a tourist area. The stores are open on Sunday. I stocked up at one, my big discovery being Jambon de Vendee: cured, not smoked, and quite nicely flavored, too. On then to real deal tourist towns, with churros and fries and tourist tat. The beaches are lovely but in summer driving there will be not much better than having to babysit your parked car. I’m glad we went today. And finally we came home, where I took this photo.