Friday, our last day in Paris.
Around about nine o'clock, Christy and I peering over the balcony saw the diminutive figure of Fiona climbing out of a taxi which she swears was driven by Sterling Moss.
A cup of tea and a hot shower later she was suitably revived and we wandered down to the market and ATMs so that the girls could buy tickets for the hop on hop off bus and maximise their one day in Paris.
Russell had gone to check out an exhibition by an Italian painter and I didn't really have plans other than to check out my favourite perfume shop, Divine and stock up for our picnic lunch on the train the next day.
That evening we celebrated our first dinner as the “Southern Seven” and the conversation and wine flowed freely.
Saturday morning saw us struggling through Gare Montparnesse to board our TGV to Agen where we would be met by our guide for the ride, Patrick.
The train trip of about 4 hours was pleasant but somewhat lengthened due to a 'signalling problem' which meant we arrived into Agen about half an hour behind schedule. By the time we reached the Office de Tourisme (who had kindly agreed to hold our luggage) we were hot and thirsty and really only had time for a quick drink and wander around the town which is famous for its prunes before we were met by Patrick.next, we were
After bundling us and our luggage into his van, we were off to our first accommodation to meet the eighth rider and relax by the pool!