Oh the freedom! With hire car to hand there’s no keeping us in. Setting out in the morning feels reminiscent of escaping lockdown – everything is fresh and new again. First stop is the garage where the motorhome is still perched on high.
The news isn’t good, but not surprising – they don’t have the necessary equipment to fix it. A fancy diagnostic computer is required. Personally, I disagree. As far as I know, fancy diagnostic computer skills do not extend to gear boxes, but what I do know. What happened to the days when mechanics used skill and judgement I wonder? It has to go, they say, to a Fiat workshop, some 50 km away. They’ll tow it there later today, or perhaps tomorrow. They’ve called ahead and Friday next week is the earliest they can see it. Gloom abounds. That’s a week from now!
This isn’t great news, it’s very possible that they could look at it and then need parts. We could be stuck for quite a while. We set off to the new garage to plead our case in person – surely that’s a better approach than letting the two garages work it out without our input. Google translate, Himself and I give it our best shot and they commit to Monday/Tuesday next week vs Friday. Decidedly better.
Having done our best, we turn our sights to the pretty nearby Pompadour, home to the most glorious Chateau de Pompadour.
Originally built as a feudal home by Guy de Latours in 1026, the incarnation we see today was rebuilt in the 15th century by Geoffrey Helie de Pomdadour when the original was razed by fire in 1199. A century or so later, a Marquis title followed, leading to the Chateau being bestowed to the Marquis de Pomdadour a favourite of Louis IV. By all accounts, she was a cheeky minx as evidenced here with her ankle very daringly on display.
Colloquially known as Madame Pompadour she never lived here but being fond of horses, instead founded a private stud farm on the site in 1751. It’s clear she was on to something as the Chateau has been a horse stud since, intially as a royal stud farm, closed during the Revolution only to be reopened by Napoleon Bonapart in the early 1800s. Later that century it became a national stud farm and the race course was established opposite. It’s still in use today.
Over the centuries, each aspect of the Chateau became horse driven, no pun intended. The orangerie was rebuilt as stables and a purpose built stables added, below. Very possibly the grandest accommodation I’ve seen for horses.
We’re lucky enough to meet a few of the local residents including the very cheeky white Lolita who is well named as she was an absolute tart for a pat. Perhaps a little of Madam Pompadour’s spirit lives on still. You don’t get to be the King’s favourite by being aloof.
There’s also a carriage house featuring different types of carriages through the centuries. During summer, equestrian displays are held in the grounds.
It’s all rather glorious, complete with ancient trees planted in the 1700s that dwarf anything in close proximity. That little blue and mustard dot below is Himself, for scale.
The tour is a welcome break from the constant weight of vehicle troubles.
Our drive home is peppered with bird sightings. Swallows dart about hurriedly collecting supper for demanding little beaks before days end. Milk chocolate buzzards boyed by updrafts oversee in sweeping circles and the occasional blue jay is flushed out of repose, its bright blue flashing. Spring birds have been particularly good this year – we’ve also seen red and green woodpeckers and prettily patterned chaffinches going about their birdie business. Lovely.
Miss Baci Travels 