BASQUE-ING IN France

‘Arriving on the main beach, we sipped coffee at the Café de Grande Plage and watched the world go by’

WHEN I SAID we were going to Bidart, my son misheard me and thought I’d said bidet. Meanwhile, my brother-in law suggested that it sounded like bathroom art, but neither knew where it is. Bidart is in south-west France, not far from the Spanish border.

First, we had to get there. We crossed on the ferry from Dover to Calais and stayed at a campsite overlooking the English Channel so that we could load up at the nearby supermarket. The next day, we overnighted at Sées, treating ourselves to a meal in the town opposite the beautiful cathedral. We then made the short drive to Camping Les Portes de l’Anjou at Durtal, where we’d decided to break our journey for a few days. The campsite is on the River Loir and we were delighted to find that our pitch overlooked this lovely waterway.

In the morning we set off to explore the town, and found a path through a park that turned into a walking tour of Durtal. We emerged on the main street, and once we’d crossed the Loir, were amazed