It's that rock again

I realise I've been rattling on about moving for ages, but haven't really shown you much of where we're moving from, aside from endless shots of bugs and flowers in the garden. Our running away to Spain any chance we get, and our desperation to sell the house to someone might give you the impression that there's something to escape from. Quite the contrary. We really do live in a bit of paradise. Sadly, the house doesn't suit us any more, but the area is wonderful.

Our valley, the Vallespir, is the southern-most in France. The climate is very mild and days without some sunshine are very rare. Granted, it is pretty windy from time to time - but less so than the valleys north of here. And keeping watch over the valley is Canigou, part of the Pyrenees, but sufficiently separated that it looks like a mountain on its own.

Mr B headed off to London for another rehearsal today, so he dropped us off at the market in Ceret, and we walked back. The market is another good reason to visit. Held every Saturday, it has grown over recent years so it is now between 100 and 200 stalls, snaking down various narrow streets in the town, opening out into the few larger squares. It sells everything from cheese to mattresses, and all points between and besides that, is a fine place to people watch.

I'm sounding like a local tourist ad now so I'll stop. I suspect once this interminable house-selling process is sorted out, I'll feel a wave of regret for leaving this valley which has been such an important escape for us over the past thirteen years.