France: Pau - Lourdes

The coach disgorged us at Pau station 90 minutes or so later than expected, but no harm was done: indeed, we had rather enjoyed this minor drama. Up we went on the funicular to the Boulevard des Pyrénées, but of the view there was none: the day was grey. Caroline rather likes Pau, but we didn't dawdle long in the City after lunch, feeling the weight of our backpacks. Instead, we tracked down an efficient bus which took us out to the Europcar base and to temporary possession of a Fiat 500 diesel. (It seemed plenty big enough for the two of us - though I attracted some odd looks when getting in and out - and used very little fuel: in fact it's rather more economical than the Smart car that Caroline covets.)

Though the object was to discover some more remote parts of the Midi-Pyrénées, our first stop was Lourdes, which we could have reached by train. I had been on two Ampleforth Pilgrimages in the early 'Seventies, of which I had clear and happy memories. Caroline for her part was intrigued to see what the fuss was about.

Although 2008 has been a big year at the Shrine, 150 years after Bernadette's apparitions, there weren't hordes of pilgrims about in the Domain on a damp November afternoon. All things considered we declined to join the short queue for the baths, walking past to the bridge across the Gave and into La Prairie: heavily developed now compared to 35 years ago, it remains a still and special place.

France: Hendaye - Pau

The strangely-named Puyoo is a village halfway to Pau, where we had planned to break our journey for a couple of days' car hire. A very long SNCF train pulled out of Hendaye and snaked its way up the coast through St. Jean-de-Luz and Biarritz, exotic places compared to the grime of industrial North-East Spain yesterday.

It wasn't quite as comfortable as with Renfe, but all was going smoothly till we came to a halt here, and out we had to get. Apparently the train in front had been derailed - possibly a result of industrial action aimed at France's TGVs: when we tried to get to the bottom of it our French failed us.

So, we asked the station master for the key to the station loo, and tried to wait patiently for coaches to take us onwards. Amongst the throng was an elderly French woman in pilgrimage gear (i.e. complete with a dangling scallop shell): she had not only walked to Compostela, but also back again as far as the Spanish border. That spurs me on.

A militant tendency

This week, we have had a stimulating visitor staying with us. Caroline's Goddaughter Lizzie is much the same age as Agnes. She didn't much enjoy her convent school, but obviously thrived - intellectually and socially - at London University.

Since then she has involved herself in education, in the broadest sense. During our conversation under the apple trees, she told us about her recent ten-day Vipassana Meditation course, and Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed. She described living in various London squats, and the soup kitchens, workshops and street theatre she helps set up.

She was off shortly to spend time with her sister Ellie's international charity, Firefly in its work with children in Bosnia. Apart from occasional foreign forays (France, Guatemala), she says she stays mainly in inner London. "You could cut some sweet peas," I suggested to her. Coming to us in Cheltenham, she said, was like the town mouse going into the country - and she asked me to show her what were sweet peas!

Beside the hard - at times challenging - edge to her life and work, there was a great sense of lightness and composure about Lizzie, a delightful guest. Godchildren are such a privilege.