Thankfully, today
dawned bright and clear, with no new snow – I know because we were
up before dawn cleaning the house and packing. With the sun up, I
went out and cleared the stone front steps of a thin but potentially
lethal layer of completely transparent ice, cleared the driveway of a
very thick layer of snow and then began trudging back and forth
between car and house laden down with stuff that I needed to find a
home for in the car.
When the house was
almost clean and the car almost packed, Kate and the girls dove to
the supermarket to try to get some fresh bread for our generous
hosts, while I walked Bella down the hill to the house of the
generous couple who had helped us get up the hill on the previous
very snowy day on which we first arrived at Le Mont Pèlerin to give
them a bottle of wine and say thank you – something we really
should have done ages ago. Unfortunately, the supermarket was shut
(it's a Sunday), and the couple was out.
Finally, around 2pm,
we were ready to go, so we put Bella in her cage, gave the cats one
last goodbye pat and hit the road, heading down the hill towards
Lausanne. After a while, the road started heading upwards, and before
too long, we reached the border with France. Before crossing over, we
stopped at a petrol station to blow the last of our Swiss francs on
crisps and Coke, and then, without any border-related formalities
whatsoever, we were in France.
The snow that had
fallen on us over the past day or so had also fallen here, and we had
a very pretty drive through snowy fields and forests, thankfully
along a completely clear road. Eventually, however, we dropped down
out of the mountains and the snow disappeared. We needed some cash to
pay for tonight's accommodation, so we stopped in the little town of
Poligny. Although we had only intended to visit a cash machine, once
we were out of the car (into the freezing cold), we noticed that
there was a little bar/restaurant open, so, cash duly pocketed, we
went in for a coffee and a hot chocolate – and entered a microcosm
of all that I love about France. The waiter was very friendly, the
coffee was good and cheap, and the restaurant, which was surprisingly
busy for a cold Sunday afternoon, exuded a wonderful communal
atmosphere, customers and staff greeting each other as they entered.
Suitably
re-energised, we then hopped back into the car and headed for our
house. Before too long, it was dark, and we had now left the
highways, but there was a lot of Roman activity around this region
back in the day, so the roads were reassuringly straight. At one
point, a beautiful big fluffy fox ran across the road in front of us
– close enough to see clearly but far enough away not to require a
panicked slamming on of the brakes.
Then, finally, we
reached our destination – the tiny village of Boudreville, right up
in the north of Burgundy - and drove up a narrow lane by the church
to our house for the next few days. We parked the car, crunched our
way across the frost-covered grass and let ourselves into the little
stone cottage, which, thankfully already had the heaters on.
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