Note to self: update blog far more often...
About an hour south of Toulouse, at the end of a long and winding road leading out of a tiny village called Chein Dessus, is a string of 'communes' or mini villages. Couillas is the last. After that, the road simply stops. It is the stuff of films: a ramshackle hamlet where there has never been a crime. It consists of about ten houses in various states of disrepair, a handful of barns, countless animals - some cared for, many wild - and just six people. Well, eight when Huw and I turned up.
We stayed in Couillas with two of these six: a dear friend of mine Ali and her man Ed - and Lola the weimaraner. For days, the sun shone over the mountains all around us, we drank freshly squeezed orange juice, ate homemade muesli with roasted hazelnuts, hearty soups and stews, took long walks, and set up a circus trapeze in the rafters. H and I also took the opportunity of staying still for a few days to make our secret safes in the truck - but you won't find any pictures of those anywhere as they're, as I said, secret.
We talked and talked, laying plans for the future. If there wasn't an adventure waiting to be had, we could have stayed far longer, with Ali, Ed and Lola in their huge rickety home clinging to the hillside.
