This is my view as I write.  I have walked the thirty seconds it takes to get from Sophie’s house to this stunning cathedral in the centre of Saint-Aignan-sur Cher.  Sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows that line the walls.  The chalky plaster-block arches that tower above me are supported by pillars of the same-coloured material, and the top of each pillar is decorated with ornate motifs and figurines.  How were they made?  How long must it have taken and how did the builders reach those soaring heights?

Beautiful sculptures and other artworks depicting biblical characters look down upon the wooden pews and chairs.  At present, I am the only one to sit here and ponder.  Others have come in for quick visits – all of them seem to be tourists who hush their children as soon as they enter and then walk quietly together around this reverent space, taking photos and whispering exclamations and explanations.  Everyone seems to look as I feel.  Amazed.  Moved.

Ah wait!  I can hear a man’s voice singing very softly in another language and the rich sound echoes gently around the building.  I thought he’d left the cathedral, but no – he has been standing quietly, looking up at the figure of Christ on the cross.  I don’t understand the words of his song, but the sound is so heartfelt.  What a special moment.

In another twelve minutes, the sound of the church bells will also be heard, but their song will be loud and clear, and will ring out across the town, faithfully telling the hour as they do from 8am to 10pm each day.  I love that sound.

The ancient crypt beneath the church.

As I gather my things and walk out into the bright daylight, shops and cafés are coming back to life.  Many of their owners close the doors for an hour or three during the early afternoon.  If their midday meals are anything like the ones that Sophie has been giving me, I’m not surprised they need a wee lie down afterwards!  It’s not just Vogels and peanut butter for me anymore.  Mais non!  Pwoff!  Today it was a luxurious ball of creamy buratta cheese (oh my goodness, where has this been all my life?) sitting on top of fresh sweet melon, drizzled with olive oil and tangy balsamic vinegar, and accompanied by paper-thin slices of salty salami and ham.  Sigh.

I climb the stairs opposite the cathedral and walk out onto the pebbled forecourt of the chateau.  Yep, a cathedral and a chateau, all within a minute’s walk from Sophie’s front door.  Double sigh.  The Marquise of this chateau does actually live here, so her house is kept private, but she is very happy for people to walk around the grounds.  Pretty kind of her, I reckon.  I don’t normally open up the grounds of my estate to the general public.  Maybe I should rethink that.

I’ve previously described Saint-Aignan-sur-Cher as something you’d find in a fairytale book, and it truly does feel like that.  When Sophie first picked me up from the train station and dropped me outside her front door (“You wait ‘ere while I park my car up dere…”), I stood there looking around me in amazement, and that was before I knew about the cathedral and chateau just around the corner!

Her house is in the middle of the town.  So many village houses in France open straight onto a footpath, and so does Sophie’s.  But instead of being next to a busy road, her front door opens out onto a small town square – a cobbled area that is surrounded by quaint shops and eateries.  With lace curtains and pots of white geraniums decorating her shuttered windows, it’s just SO FRENCH!

The streets are paved with cobblestone, and the buildings are all so gorgeous, with historic towers, walls and steeples visible from pretty much every angle.

If I walk back down the stairs and wander through the lovely old streets for just another couple of minutes I will reach the beautiful Cher River.  If I cross the bridge, I am at the park.  I have spent quite a bit of time here during the afternoons, sitting on one of the park benches, watching the river and looking back at the town.

It was at the Sur la Pont restaurant, located on the edge of this park, that I had a pre-dinner drink last night, with Sophie and her lovely youngest daughter, Louise.  It was the first time since arriving here that I’d viewed the village at night.  As the sun went down, I was blown away by its charm once again

I have three more sleeps in France.  Will we ever buy a place here?  Sophie’s daughter, Louise tells me I should buy a place in Portugal instead.  “Ah Portugal, it is de best ting ever!”, she tells me with a passion that matches her rich strawberry and chestnut-coloured hair.  Louise lives in Paris.  I guess the grass is always greener, as the saying goes.   

But for now, I am here in darling Saint-Aignan for the last three day of my French journey.  I have one more precious and exciting adventure ahead, and after that I will return home to my beloveds.  I miss them all so much!

Bonne nuit.