Saint Céré

It must be about three years - pre-pandemic - since we wandered the streets of Saint Céré, a town I have known well for more than forty years. I was astonished at the changes. So many shops had either shut or changed hands. There were whole buildings I didn’t even recognise. How quickly the world moves on without you.

We had coffee on the outside terrace of the Café Voyageur, where 36 years ago I took up daily residence in a quiet corner to write “The Noble Path”. When I went in to pay, the middle-aged lady behind the bar, who as a young girl had floated effortlessly between the tables serving lunches, looked at me and did a cartoon double-take. “Peter!” she exclaimed, and we exchanged smiling catch-up pleasantries for a few minutes. When I emerged, blinking, into the sunlight I thought: Everything changes, yet nothing does.

It felt good to be back. And just for old time’s sake I took this blip looking west along the river - a timeless shot of a timeless town.