A small rain has blown in, bringing with it cool weather and the smell of distant wildfires in the Gironde.
Earlier in the week, while it was still sunny and warm we headed with Bertie for Lacanau and the beach
The final stage of the journey - cross country from Bordeaux - always seems to take forever. Even more so this time. Our speed was reduced from eighty kilometres an hour to fifty as we drove between the burnt black trunks of pine trees, acrid smoke still drifting across the ground. Two fire engines on guard attested to the possibility of further breakouts. We were lucky. A few days earlier and the road would have been closed.
Finally, we made it. And found a restaurant that did crispy, light, fish n'chips and a bowl of water for Bertie, who poked his head through the terrace railings and watched the world go by.
The beaches in town are supposed to be dog-free, so we turned north, parked between the trees and tramped over the dunes to the sea. At some moment in the last couple of years Bertie grew up and can now be trusted (in the right circumstances) off the lead. A beach out of town and out of season in South West France is the right circumstances and he spent a joyous afternoon haring off into the middle distance to meet and greet other dogs and then rushing back to tell us. It makes the disappearance of Vita from his life easier.
Afternoon tea, ice-cream and cannelles back in town and another bowl of water for Bertie and then we headed home. He hardly stirred the whole way - it had been a good day for all of us.
