When the alarm goes off at seven this morning, I curse myself for not having, once again, taken a single day off before leaving on a trip, when I was still working yesterday until around six in the evening.

The road is wet and dark all the way to the station. I settle into the little TER bound for Tulle, which carries me, with plenty of shaking and all kinds of hesitation, safely to port - that is, Brive-la-Gaillarde.

I don’t hurry to leave and instead have breakfast on the spot. The morning is cold and damp, and I know the terrible climb that leads out of Brive toward Collonges-la-Rouge, which I will inevitably have to take.

So it is with a slice of cake and a coffee in my stomach that I set off on the soaked asphalt. Within minutes I am covered in mud the same red as the stones of Collonges, which made its reputation. A quick stop in the village, at the only shop I know: the one that sells sandwiches.

As I set off again, I am soon overtaken by a huge pickup truck carrying an equally huge wild boar. The beast is bathed in its blood, which I imagine is still warm, and the sight of its thick fur stained with that black glue stirs my hardened city-dweller heart somewhat. No doubt about it, I am in Corrèze.

Not for long, though: at a bend by a forestry operation, I cross into the Cantal! The climbs get steeper, unfortunately. As I stop at a small Super U to buy a few cereal bars (because I left without anything, for once), I tell myself it is time to book a hotel for the evening. But I hadn’t reckoned with my phone, which the cold had numbed and whose battery died on the very first call.

A wave of panic - because it is very cold and rain threatens - I head to the village center to find help. I am directed to the florist who “has contacts”. Not surprising, since he is also the village mayor. He manages to find me in extremis a small mobile home at the local campsite and, for dinner: “come along to the village festival, we’re making lasagna!”

What more could I ask for?