From the House of Youth and Culture on the Golden Island in the middle of the Loire where my little boy was participating in youthful and cultural activities I walked North towards the railway station. Having crossed the footbridge that spans the railway I arrived in unknown territory and sensibly took left turns at each junction so that I would easily find my way back. After the third left turn I found myself in front of the Resto (poorly) photographed at the fifteen minute point of my last post. I must say I was a little taken aback. Not that I thought I was miles away but rather the serendipitous timing of it. “Great,” I thought, “I can take a decent picture of it now.”

Now the picture is taken from too close. It’s as rubbish as yesterday’s.

The restaurant is right next to an underpass which is just high enough for a moderate-sized car to get through with a bike or a pedestrian walking alongside. You can only go in one direction as this busy looking picture demonstrates.

Just around the corner from the Resto is a tired old hangar with a very faded antique hand-painted sign on it advertising the business of a beast salesman or rather a livestock trader. Nothing much else to report except for a house with two rubber tyres painted pink with flowers in them and hanging off the balcony railings. The effect surprised me so much I forgot to take a picture.

Not far from the pink tyres a particularly gung-ho parent has erected the daddy of all climbing frames with slides, swings, telescopes and rope bridges. Their devotion is commendable. On their front gate are the names of all the family members with stick drawings of each of them.

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