Narrowboatboy’s Big, Bad Blog...Narrowboat & Travel blog based on Lancaster Canal

Well, unfortunately it was all a dream! The reality was that the airline cancelled the flight to Bergerac at the eleventh hour and we were unable to find an alternative. Not to be outdone, we luckily had a comfortable Narrowboat standing by set sail up the Lancaster Canal the next day and had an alternatively adventurous time heading up to up to Tewitfield and returning via Glasson Dock. The weather and the food was much the same as it would have been in France but there were less French folk, so our trip to the Dordogne will have to wait for another time in the future. Until the next time... Last track by 'The Cribs'...and apt song to end on!

The mornings wine tasting at the local Chateaux hosted by Bridget Bardot was a fancy affair, a cauliflower foamed Meuse beuch  on arrival then straight in to Canapés and vol au vents in between tastings of sparkling aperitifs. Before we knew it we started to feel a little tipsy and foolishly signed up for an afternoon of extreme sports being held in the local area. We chose the combo package of Parkour and Fly Boarding.  The Parkour started well with both of us donning special pumps and managing to run up a couple of the smaller office blocks and even managed a couple of back flips off the window ledge before moving on to sliding gracefully over the roof of a parked Citroen Picasso. Later, at the beach for our exciting session of Fly Boarding didn't go just so well! The pressure in the hose was set far too high for us beginners and even with the instructor attached we both shot skyward, but in different directions and started to spin around uncontrollably about 20ft ...

It was time to explore the picturesque countryside famous for its wonderful natural regional cuisine. We were the last ones on the coach for our organised day trip excursion to the local foie-gras factory, the site of our next destination. Here we were instructed in the art and methods of humanely rearing large Gallic roosters, which are tethered up by their necks in cramped but comfortable rearing crates in readiness for the twice daily routine of being subjected to pain and distress. Luckily, we got the opportunity to wrestle a few of the bewildered birds to the ground in an awkward attempt to stuff a great funnel down their gulping throats and then while balancing a cheek and straddling over a small traditional wooden stool we eagerly turned handles of medieval grinders to force a heady concoction of steroids, paxo and pungent herbs down the flappy enlarged gullets to enable all the strained  internal organs to artificially swell and burst with the silky, buttery flavours...

Waking up to glorious sunshine with views of the snow capped Mont Blanc in the distance, it wasn't long before we were donning stripey tops and setting off along the twisting valley on 'bicyclettes' with onions jauntily balanced on the handlebars and swinging in the breeze as we pedalled off past several Impressive and opulent Chateau's to meet up with the locals sitting on rickety chairs under a red checked tablecloth 'al fresco' style outside a famously quaint cafe, 'Pret-a-Porter' for 'petit dejeuner'. An awkwardly large chap with a ruddy face and dressed in a long apron greeted us kindly and briskly brought our order of steaming plates of boiled snails, deep fried frogs legs and a large Coq au Vin! Re-invigorated, we decided upon a religious experience. A visit to a 12th century pilgrimage site to which the devout drag themselves up on their knees to experience the blessed virtues of the 'Fallen Madonna' and make incense offeri...

"I shall say this only once..." Destination...Bergerac, not the old pathetic low budget Sunday night police detective series from the 70's featuring John Nettles as DCI Barnaby, no, the other one in the Dordogne in France where a fella called Cyrano once lived. The Dordogne is beautiful this time of year, the scent of fromage, the eau de toilette  and sparkle of the Perrier...you can't beat it! Tucking into baguettes and quaffing 'le vin', this is what holidays are made of in these parts. Hardly spent a euro so far and the folk we have met along the way all speak English so it's been like home from home..... Anyway, the first 'nuit' is drawing in so tune in tomoz for further progress. Today's track by Plastic Bertrand, a spoof 'new wave' track from about '77....one for the kidz....

While it may be the hottest day since Gavrilo Princip shot the Archduke Francis Ferdinand and knackered European relations for a while, and in some places within the UK the heat is unbearable; up here, in the North of England it is pouring with rain and as miserable and dreary as a classic 'Smiths' song - so you won't be surprised to learn that this travel blog is going to be back in action very very soon. It's almost time for the 'Great British Bugger Off'...this is where two Hairy Shirkers get dropped in the middle of the Dordogne in gastronomic French France and have to survive and evade capture by visiting daft sounding places like 'Boulangerie', 'Charcuterie' and 'Patisserie' and then, armed only with a few worthless euros and basic O'level knowledge in how to describe to a Gallic chap that 'The dog lives behind the house!' they have only a week to build their own Chateaux and then cook a massive spotted dick using ...