The journey over was possibly one of the easiest in the history of travel. Exiting the leafy kingdom of Oxfordshire and motoring along the M40 and M25 without a single hold up had left us suitably jubilant, and not a little surprised. Then, being able to stretch out on the plane, as it was only half full, was nothing short of astonishing. And to top it all off, ours was the only plane at Bergerac airport, which is not much more than a large corrugated shed, so passport control, namely a smiling official in a small plywood booth, was an absolute breeze.
|A few snaps from the trip as a bit of a taster. Here my esteemed colleague wanders blithely through my shot.|