Notre Tour de France #30 (24 mi)

After a pleasant evening in the centre-ville of Saint-Jean-d'Angély we retired to the tent for our final sleep outdoors. There are some things I won't miss - mosquitos looking to drink your blood (did you know only the females are blood-thirsty?), the pitter patter of large raindrops on the tent, the crashes of a ferocious thunderstorm as it passes overhead, the uncomfortable stuffiness of the tent's bedroom and the group of campers who insist on being boisterous at stupid o'clock in the morning. But at the same time I will miss these things. Collectively they are the trademarks of an adventure and as I return to normality and cease to be exposed to these annoyances, the adventure ends.

This morning we packed away the tent for the last time and made the rather undulating 15 miles to Saintes, but not before stopping by in the village for our final French breakfast of criossants and miniature coffees. As Sunday has come around again, Saintes is still tucked up in bed, though we did manage to battle our way through the part of town which was alive - the Sunday morning market, and have a look at a couple of its churches. Coincidentally, there is also a cycling event taking part today outside the courthouse.

There is a 125km race comprising of five laps which pass through Saintes, where the finish line is located. Not wanting to miss a photo opportunity, I had Jwan stand near the finish line and snap a couple off as I rode my bike (towing Bob the trailer) across the line with my fist extended out in triumph. My efforts were met with a round of applause by the spectators behind the barriers, a rather fitting end to our month-long tour of France.

There are a number of things I'm going to miss about this country, and other things not so much. The flashing pharmacy signs in every village giving the time and temperature, every resident of every village making the morning trip to the Boulangerie for their baguette(s), the strange pedestrian crossings at traffic lights, which show a green man when traffic is still passing over the crossing.

There are the ridiculous prices, such as €8.50 for an ice cream sundae, or the €2.50 we once each paid for a glass of coke, which was poured from a standard two litre bottle bought at a supermarket. Other things I have grown quite accustomed to. Being told "bon appétit" whenever someone has seen us eating, the impressive village flowers and equally impressive roundabouts.

As I say au revoir to France and bonjour to Angleterre, I look forward to my cosy bed, shielded from the elements and more comfy than a sleeping mat can ever be. I look forward to speedy and reliable Internet, mobile data, a recognisable language and even the local park. If I could combine the best of both worlds, that would be a nice place. I come back to a handful of thing at home that I miss, but I also have to take in the sporadic weather, the excessive litter and heavily congested roads.

The question I really should be asking myself is: where to next?