Town Travel - Favourite Places by Michael Reidy
I never understood the fuss
about a room of one’s own as I can write just about anywhere. Station
platforms, airport terminals, inside, outside; but sitting in the sun in a
French café with a suitable drink is hard to beat.
Asking for a favourite place
is like asking which is your favourite child; so many places are loved equally.
Having had the good fortune to see much of the United States and Europe only
makes the task more difficult. It’s easy to wax eloquent about London’s
history, Paris’s glamour or Barcelona’s eccentricity, and one’s hometown, no
matter how unappealing to others, is still home.
However, to come to the point
and choose, I’m going to plump for Lectoure, France.
Lectoure is in the department
of the Gers in what was known as the Aquitaine. The region is also known as
Midi-Pyrénées, and Nouvelle Aquitaine, Gascony and the local area La Lomagne. While
Lectoure has few literary claims, D’Artagnan hailed from nearby Auch.
I came to know Lectoure about
25 years ago while on gîte holidays. Technically, with a population under
5,000, it’s a village, but Lectoure was once a city of 20,000 with its own
massive cathedral, fine public buildings and stunning setting.
Lectoure is on the same
latitude as Cannes and Nice so the summers are very hot. However, its proximity
to the Pyrénées gives the area more rainfall. It’s possible to reach both the
Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts in under three hours, and in the winter,
skiing is only two hours away.
Lectoure has a history
reaching back to Roman times and some evidence remains. There are thermal
springs (unusual on a hilltop), and the town has commanding views of the
surrounding countryside and fortified walls. Essentially, there are four
streets that run more or less parallel until they meet at opposite ends of the
town. These are linked by streets and alleys of varying steepness.
At one end is the grand –
though not enormous – former residence of the Ducs d’Armagnac, and at the other
is a park with a grid pattern of chestnut trees under which old men play pétanque
(boulles). There is a bandstand, a bar and views to the south across a
vast, fertile plain to the Pyrénées.
I had been visiting Lectoure
for about 10 years before I saw the Pyrénées, for in the summer a heat haze and
the angle of the light make seeing them impossible except for very early in the
morning. However, in the winter months, they are right there in front of you
with a size and clarity that makes you wonder how they could possibly be
invisible at other times of year.
In the mid-1990s, Lectoure
looked like a village still in the 1950s. While there was a lively weekly
market filled with wonderful local produce, there were many vacant shops and
houses, and the roads were full of potholes. The market features local foie
gras and other duck and goose products; delicious Lectoure melons that look
like a honeydew on the outside and a cantaloupe on the inside; Agen plums,
local and Pyrénéan cheeses, and garlic. The region is known for garlic and it
is featured in dishes that one could not
imagine elsewhere. Garlic soup is one of them, and is delicious and warming on
a chill autumn or winter’s day.
The market has rotisserie
chickens and potatoes cooked in schmaltz, giant paellas, and churros
that fill the street with wonderful smells.
Today, while Lectoure retains all its previous qualities, it
has been the recipient of vast amounts of EU money which have repaved the roads,
built attractive areas for parks and parking, invested in the thermal spa and raised
the overall ambience of the village. It is now far busier in the summer and
while the same local produce can be found in the market, there are now the fake
Ray-Bans and carved African figures that mark the coming of chic in
French holiday resorts.
Lectoure’s character, however, has not been spoiled and the
post-tourist season sees a return to the close, friendly small-town feeling
with many of the new restaurants and antique shops closed until spring.
For a writer, the appearance of new cafés and wine bars not
only provides local colour but also a place for undisturbed writing with a good
coffee or glass of Arton red, or Colombelle. The French still make good paper
which is a joy for dinosaurs who like fountain pens. A local tabac has
an excellent supply of stationery and I stock up on thick Clairefontaine bound
notebooks to write in.
No one bothers a writer except to see if more wine is required.
Michael Reidy
The Rock
Pool
Lost Lady
Undivulged
Crimes (short stories) (winner of a Reader’s Award)
Entrusted
in Confidence
On the
Edge of Dreams and Nightmares (winner of a Premier Award)
The
Countess Comes Home
Portland Place
The
Camels of the Qur’an
Wachusett
Nantucket
Summer
Other places to visit...
Leiden, the Netherlands with Pauline Barclay
Barnstable, UK with Helen Hollick
Next Town Travel is Wednesday with ... Dizzy Greefield, Somerset, UK
2 comments:
I had the good fortune to visit Michael last summer and can confirm what a delightful spot this is. I did some writing myself at his house amid fields of sunflowers. We had a memorable meal at the Hôtel de Bastard in Lectoure, the climax of which was a baba with prune and armagnac ice cream.
(apologies, I've been bogged down with editing so missed these posts) Thank you Michael for such an interesting visit - your writing is so descriptive it feels like I've been to this lovely town with you!
Post a Comment