37.... blimey!

To begin with all went well. We found the car park next to Ashford sports centre without mishap, no sneaky height barriers had been installed since its beatification on Streetview; Matthew arrived at the station next-door on time, happy, but a little outraged that the ticket from Stratford had cost £41 for a journey of barely half an hour. We headed for Dover docks, no queues at the check-in, we took-up our alloted spot at the the head of lane 111 and waited. And waited, 15.30, departure time came and went, the berth immediately in front of us remained empty, the information board changed from delayed to cancelled without explanation. People got bored and started to wander about aimlessly, ever more skimpily dressed as the temperature notched-up towards the low thirties. 

Three hours later a ferry arrived, disgorged its weary passengers and then munched its way through the next course, us!  We arrived in Calais just before 8pm. far too late to reach our planned destination, a campsite just outside Abbevllle. Instead we used the new aire at Sandgatte, it's big, well designed and free. Probably a better bet than the place at Wissant we have used in the past when travelling Dover/Calais. We have only used the pulldown bed stashed in the roof once before, a bit cosy with three adults sleeping in the van, but it saved us tracking down a budget motel for Matthew which would have been the only other alternative under the circumstances.

We were going to have to re-think the trip. Matthew had decided he wanted to visit a city on the Loire with a classic fancy chateau and nice shady cafés. Orleans or Blois came to mind, a long day's drive from our planned stop in Abbeville, but a bit too far from Calais. So we decided to head initially for Neufchatel-en-Bray instead - lovely Normandy countryside, comfortable campsite next to the Avenue Vert.

Sarah and Rob loaned us a folding bike, so we had wheels for the three of us, I reckoned that Matthew on the collapsible shopper without gears would still outrun the pair of us who even with pedelac assistance never really get beyond a sedate pace.

This indeed proved to be the case. We had a lovely couple of days mooching about on the Avenue Vert. Initially Matthew was a bit sceptical that anywhere so close to the Channel could offer the full-on Gallic experience he wanted. He soon changed his mind. The quietly understated beauty of the valley of the Bray, its shady woodlands, bright green pastures and old villages are classic 'field in France' stuff. 

While further south Provence and Les Landes spontaneously combusted and thermometers headed towards 40°, here it was very warm in the afternoon, low thirties maybe, but evenings and mornings were cooler. 

We've used the motorhome aire and campsite at Neufchatel-en-Bray's Camping Ste. Claire many times, but never in the high season. It feels as if you are camping in a big garden, pitches are hedged and clumps of flowering shrubs abound. As you might expect the carefully tended environment and peaceful atmosphere attracts older tourists, Dutch, German and British caravanners out-number natives. I did not see one boule match, it's France Jim, but not as we know it.

Matthew still was set on a visit to the Loire. From the Dieppe area heading for Angers made more sense than Orleans. There was a direct autoroute, but payage. Normally we do our best to avoid France's toll motorways, but our time was limited so we had no choice but to 'prenez le ticket '. 

The bill at the Angers payage reminded us why we usually avoid them - 283km cost €68, almost as much as the fuel.

We opted to stay at the Camping du Lac de Maine, a big urban site on the outskirts of Angers run by the Huttopia group. Luckily our pitch was shaded as by mid morning the thermometer registered 37°. We wound out the awning fully then pegged our Moroccan throw onto it, the three of us huddled together in a shadowy patch. 

There seemed little point in driving more than 300 kilometres to hide in the shade. We decided we had to be brave, the bus stop was only 5 minutes walk from the front gate, Chateau d'Angers, seat of the Plantagenets beckoned, historically important, but more importantly, built in the 10th Century with 3m thick walls, not only resistant to massed trebuchet, it's gloomy interior would be haven of coolness on a searingly hot day.

The bus took us for a tour of Angers' bland but pleasant suburbs before depositing us right beside the castle. We decided to find somewhere for lunch before visiting it. We booked a table at a nice looking creperie in the old quarter next to the chateau. We had a twenty minute wait before our table was available so we took a stroll around the ancient streets, dodging from shadow to shadow.

As creperies go, the one next to the chateau was quite posh, not rustic like you get in Brittany. The humble crêpe had been elevated too, both the savoury and sweet varieties promising more sophisticated flavours than the classic Breton 'oeuf fromage' or 'chocolat Chantilly'. 

They were stylishly presented too. Washed down with local cider it was an excellent light lunch for a hot day. 

You had to have sympathy for the two women in the kitchen, God knows what the temperature must have been in front of the big circular hot plates. 

The light was blinding and heat insufferable in the white gravelled square behind the chateau's curtain walls. Most Loire chateaux are not castles at all, but palaces. 

The one at Angers is a proper fortress with more than a dozen chunky towers, oddly striped in stone and slate, the round ones resembling medieval cooling towers, look more industrial than military. The impressive gateway still retains its original port-cullis.

We skipped the extensive formal gardens, admired the view from one of the turrets briefly, then scurried indoors into the coolness of the dark interior. 

As well as being an outstanding example of medieval military architecture the place houses a significant example of late mediaeval art.

The Tapestry of the Apocalypse was commissioned by the Duke of Angers in 1375. Produced in Paris, it is a rare example where an entire collection, a narrative series, of pre-Renaissance woven panels have survived. 

The subject matter is unusual too. Aside from the occasional surreal passage found in the Old Testament prophets, the Book of Revelation has to be the most hallucinatory book in the Bible. Admittedly, hell fire and damnation was regularly depicted in Medieval art, particularly in the Last Judgement tympana of Romanesque and Gothic cathedrals - keep the masses subjugated through terrifying propaganda always a tyrant's common ploy!  The tapestries' iconography is lifted from the St John the Divine's account of the 'last of days'. 

What is rare is the scale and complexity - a blow by blow depiction of 'Revelations' like a graphic novel. This is exactly what these six massive woven panels are; they recount the story in detail, originally in 90 scenes, though only 70 of them now remain.

 

I wondered if the popularity of the story in the late 14th century reflected a society moving on from the trauma of the Black Death which occurred a generation previously. Though the events in the Book of Revelation are apocalyptic, the ending is triumphant - New Jerusalem, heralding Satan's demise and good prevailing over evil. The work is fascinating, I signalled my approval by buying a fridge magnet.

It was refreshingly cool in the dimly lit, temperature controlled gallery specially constructed to house the Apocalypse Tapestry. The eye-watering glare and wall of heat that greeted us outside felt shocking. Nevertheless we were intrepid and explored the city centre a bit. Angers is a stylish place, chic with a youthful vibe. 

We satisfied Matthew's aspiration to have a coffee in a shady square in a beautiful old place in the Loire, then moved on to our need to buy some milk; very slowly, as the sole cashier in Monoprix seemed determined to have meaningful social moment with every customer but had yet to develop that most basic of epos skills, to scan and speak simultaneously. 

Despite her best efforts we managed to catch the 5pm. bus back to the campsite. I had tucked a small thermometer under the van's wheel arch. It read 37°, but the real feel in the sun must have been well into the forties. 

By twilight it had dropped to 26° but the interior of the van retained the heat so it still was over thirty degrees inside.We took a stroll through the nearby woods as the stars popped out one by one. Velvety warm nights camping under the stars in France is one of my fond memories of family summer holidays. Tonight though was too much and the forecast was for things to get even hotter tomorrow. Around Dieppe, our port of departure in three days time, the forecast was relatively cooler, around 28° maximum.

We decided to head back north sooner than planned. Next morning Gill phoned the site at Arques-la-Bataille, a nice ex-municipal, near the northern end of the Avenue Vert. It is less than a twenty minute drive from there to Dieppe ferry port, meaning we would not need to move again before catching the boat home. Usually we don't bother booking ahead, but as well as being high season today is Bastille Day, lots of French people will probably take a 'bridge day' to make a long weekend of it, campsites could well get fully booked, especially near the coast.