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I decided to have another go at visiting the photojournalism exhibition in Perpignan today. But first I had to go and see the orthopaedic surgeon in Narbonne. After the obligatory Brexit conversation ("That Boris Johnson -- he's crazy!"), he said, "This looks like a fracture that happened two months ago." "But it's three months now." "Exactly." I told him about going on a walking holiday next week. "Don't try to do more than an hour or two, on the flat," he advised. "Or you'll be at the back, crying. Oh, and make an appointment for a bone scan."

From there I drove to the station and boldly bought a return to Perpignan. The train was on time! But the taxi rank at Perpignan station had zero taxis, strangely for somewhere that describes itself as "the centre of the world". Oh well, Since I'm going walking next week, I guess I'd better get some practice in. The 2 km to the Couvent les Minimes took me about half an hour, and I was glad to sit down for a cold drink when I arrived.

I did my best to skip most of the war photos. Couldn't face more walking to go to other venues, but luckily this is the main exhibition space so there's a lot to see. There were some good photos of the refugee caravans in south America by Guillermo Arias and some fairly predictable gilets jaunes photos by Olivier Coret (although the gilet-clad priest made me smile). I liked the "two Koreas" by Ed Jones. And an entertaining series on quirky American churches by Cyril Abad, including a man with a little church on wheels that he tows around the bible belt -- it even has a folding steeple. Very cute. But I didn't have enough stamina to see everything.

I had a slow walk back to the station, the streets of Perpignan being completely devoid of taxis, stopping for a cup of coffee and some architecture photos (extras) on the way. Predictably, my train was flagged up as 10 minutes late, and once the 10 minutes were up, it switched to 20 minutes. It eventually showed up half an hour behind schedule so I didn't get home till after 8 pm, feeling fairly exhausted from about 5 km of slow walking on the flat. The SNCF wouldn't be the SNCF without delayed trains. Lovely views of lagoons and bird life in the evening light on the way though.

And yes, it was ice pack time when I got home. Have also been told to apply Voltarene and wrap my foot in clingfilm.