The Romans not only left straight roads, they left a heritage of orgies.

In my case, this consists of arriving on a Sunday morning at the only place open in Lonlay-l’Abbaye, the supermarket, and pigging out in the rain outside on a litre of milk, 2 chicken breasts quickly stuffed into croissants, and some salad noise. Sadly “thon” is not ham, but tuna, and the dogs got this, along with some of the milk and a giant tin of dog food!

Walked on in drizzle through climbing tree draped paths to Domfront. From a long way off you could hear loudspeakers and some kind of fete. This turned out to be a Trotting Cart race, so we turned in and had a sausage in a bap, my gas having run out. A kind gentleman gave the dogs some burnt ones. They had a horn orchestra, which sounded like a cross between cazoos and the south American football fans favourable crowd irritate!  Wonderfully anachronistic after all that!

Camped in field 1k down the road and picked the most pot- holed piece of ground, I discovered later.

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