Sitting in a relaxing bubble bath, contemplating the beauty of the french language and playing with the Chaud and Froid taps with my toes while determining whether the bathroom decor could be classed French ProvinciaI, I realize there’s extra flesh protruding. Necessitating immediate mental note to pull the reins in? This could be challenging as I’ve just eaten the best meal yet at Auberge des Lices.

Tucked down one of the narrow alley ways that meander through Carcassone’s medieval fortress Auberge des Lices offers temptations including rich tomato mousse in jars accompanied with delicate salted wafers, tenter chicken breasts nestled in rich cognac sauce; the food excellent, service disinterested, the fortress rather ho hum for it’s hard to remove Sarlat’s uniqueness from the race.

Well deserved too after a long day exploring Chateau Feodal de Beynac, a castle originating in 1453 and where Joan of Arc was filmed. The view from here is absolutely breathtaking. Lost for words, we simply stare in awe. A ‘very’ scenic drive to Carcassone via Domme, as the Garman continues to confuse us and now secure in the quite magnificent Demeure Saint Lewis, our B&B for this evening.

Must say, Dicky has been the most marvelous driver, Fifi the ‘back seat in the front seat’ back up to silly Garmin woman, Poppy, our Peugeot… ‘carriage de magnificent’.

So ok…our B&B ‘La Lanterne’ in Sarlat doesn’t quite match up to the Castle we’ve reluctantly vacated in Mirambeau…but the lovely bottle of vin Rouge that’s fueled our giggly stagger back up through the tiny curved, cobbled and oh so quaint alleyways to our B&B, accompanied by a pretty impressive Quasi Modo knock off as the bells ring in the nearby church…more than makes up for the shortfall.

Started the day with a lovely drive down to Saint-Emilion, home of over 38 world heritage listed wineries, bordering on the Dordogne…all scattered amongst ancient architecture and into Sarlat, magnificent, centuries old fortress.

A steep and narrow cobbled street leads us to Le Lantern hidden behind a rustic wooden door leading into a quaint ivy shrouded courtyard. After meeting our hosts, their dogs Frodo and Phoebe (Frodo sings opera, has a spot on YouTube), throw the kit into our rooms, throw a robust red down our throats then head down into the village to feast.

Charming and atmospheric, it’s walls shrouded with roses and ivy and each abode jumbled atop another, Sarlat is the home of Fois Gras and you can eat anything as long as it’s canard…

Next morning we explore Chateau Puymartin, the engineering of its steep stacked stone roof of particular interest. Moving on we explore rock grottos where dwellers have carved homes into the sandstone cliffs.

The Dordogue -Perigourd region is full of Chateaus and Grottos, making for thirsty work and sated with a picnic lunch by the river Montignac.  Panne and Fois Gras, Mumm 2002 vintage Champagne, (so reasonably priced in this neck of the woods) and we’re back in the swing.

Returning to Sarlat, Pixi and Fifi wander back to the square, immerse ourselves in the  to sip cocktails and bask in the warmth of the late afternoon sun and contemplate restaurants, so many to choose from, so much canard. Would kill for a steak!

A leisurely continental breakfast and at the recommendation of our host, off to sample fine Cognac at the Chateau de Beaulon.

While my companions were ‘gettin it on’ I wandered the les Fontaines Bleues – beautiful lakes of soft green dappled with the deepest azure blue, almost iridescent and unique to this region, and did my best to capture their depth of brilliance.The springs emerge within a gentle stream, surrounded by light forestry, neighbored by lush grape vines.

While strolling the garden, in desperation am forced to take a tinkle behind a bush…stinging nettle...that’s all I’m gonna say boys and girls; Jenny and Ross in stitches, photographic evidence and I may need to pay a ransom to avoid my ass being broadcast on YouTube.

After sampling varying wines and the Cognac, we sail merrily out and into a lovely drive through rolling green fields to Talmont, a stroll around this pretty little village perched on the edge of a cliff, pizza and crepes citron sucre then down to Saintes where we seek out very much needed Anglaise/French interpretation dictionaries to avoid any further near misses with incorrect turns and goat meat.

The Chateau is closed for dining tonight and in lieu of a €20 room service bowl of soup (can’t risk another serve of the pink fishy liquid), we head into the village for a cheap n cheerful nosh before retiring to our respective boudoirs to hear another 8 hrs worth of Bin Laden triumph on CNN, the only English speaking TV channel, our brains exhausted from interpreting. Tomorrow…Salat.