Crepes and carillon

Another day, another town - or set of towns, in this case: Tain l'Hermitage and Tournon, across the river from each other, each with a steep hillside behind covered in vineyards, Tournon with a chateau growing out of the rock, Tain with the Valrhona chocolate shop and its shelves of free samples, where I went instead of the wine-tasting but still found myself confronted with descriptions claiming notes of licorice, caramel and 'feve tonka', whatever that is.

Then we were treated to a performance of the carillon at the Notre Dame church, introduced by a lovely old man and his very youthful-looking black Labrador, who's 13. It was pretty music, snatches of classics ringing out from the clock tower over the tiled roofs of the town and the - again - quiet streets, it being still siesta time. And we were away again, humming up the Rhone, away from dark thunderclouds and into the sun again, with a mid-afternoon crepes Suzette demonstration and tasting scheduled lest, quelle horreur, our blood sugar should start to ebb.