Where in the world is David today? Angoulême

It is strangely difficult to remember everything that needs to go in a post when I sit down to do it. All sorts of thoughts have been swirling around my brain. Now I have to remember them all, get them out, and organise them.

The first thing to say is that although time has become a little bit vague, as I imagine it did for many ancient pilgrims, I am quite aware of the month turning over to June as I file today's photos. With the first few days of June come events that I am missing. Our friend, James Sherlock, who won the piano section of the Royal Overseas League Annual Music Competition, is about to compete in the Grand Final tomorrow, and I am very aware of what I am missing. Here's wishing James well! Even more personal, Jonathan's pictures are about to be exhibited starting on Thursday at Cleveland College of Art and Design as part of his friends' degree show - he would have been graduating with them now if he had lived. The initiative to include his work came from his fellow students, and they have prepared it all for exhibition, but it was warmly supported by Jamie and the other staff, and I am going to miss it. That really upsets me. Pause.

Anyway, on to today. It started with a wonderful breakfast. I was already well on the way to being ready when I could hear Stephen downstairs clattering round in the kitchen. He had promised scrambled egg and bacon, but it wasn't just any old scrambled egg and bacon. I left so fuelled up that I didn't need to eat for a long way into the journey. I thought I would lighten my load a bit if I could, so I made a collection of things that could be picked up from Partridges later and handed them over to be taken back to England when they set off after lunch. And then, sadly it was time to go. I am not sure quite what time I got off, but it wasn't a ridiculously early start, thankfully, and I remembered to photograph the bread with horns and the street signs with two names on.

The www.meteo.fr weather foreacst two days ago had suggested today would be nice. Yesterday they downgraded it to occasional showers. In fact, after a nice start to the journey the rain set in after 12 miles and only stopped very occasionally, and then finally on the run into Angoulême. That didn't mean it wasn't still a beautiful ride, because it was - particularly the stretch where I left the main road and rode alongside the river Vienne to Confolens. That was gorgeous. However, it did mean that I couldn't really keep stopping to take photographs! Stops were for putting on more layers of waterproofs - and my clothes are still all soaked because I didn't put them on soon enough.

There was excitement when I rejoined the main road after Confolens as a children's wendy house blew out of a car's trailer and landed in the middle of the road (minor damage to wendy house). I stopped to help the men who were towing the trailer recover it before it was smashed to smithereens by a truck, and they turned out to be English (surprise, surprise). That was my first Good Samaritan stop of the day, but my feelings quickly turned to anxiety when I picked up my bike to carry on and discovered that the head of one of the bolts holding the pannier rack to the frame had sheared off, leaving nothing to get hold of to remove the rest of the bolt. I tested it carefully, but anxiety remained for the rest of the ride. I knew it needed to be fixed as soon as possible, but it seemed OK to keep going (as long as the surface wasn't rough so that it would bounce about stressing the bolt on the other side). The question was where and when could I get it fixed? France is supposed to have lots of bike shops, but I don't seem to see many of them. I just had to plough on, hoping.

I was on main roads a lot again today, but thankfully most of the trucks were going in the opposite direction to me or I would have got even wetter, even quicker. I had to make a couple of diversions to avoid roads that bicycles aren't allowed on, and unfortunately that meant much more in the way of ups and downs. Still, it was also very pretty. I had wanted to make a stop at Ruelle-sur-Touvre to see where the river Touvre, France's second largest underground-sourced river, emerges. However, the rain and the anxiety about the pannier rack encouraged me to keep going and in the end I made excellent time to Angoulême.

That was when my second Good Samaritan stop happened. I was overtaken by a student on a dodgy bike, and shortly afterwards his chain fell off and I stopped to offer help. He didn't really need much help, but it was quicker and easier with two and as we fixed the chain he asked me where I had come from, and so on. As we both set off again, I thought I would ask him where there was a bike shop, even though I was only about 200 yards from the hotel, and obviously one good turn deserves another - not only did he know where the bike shop was, he took me almost all the way there before wishing me 'bon courage'. When I got to the bike shop and the mechanic emerged and looked at the sheared bolt, there was a lot of tongue clicking, and head shaking, and 'oh la la la la la la'. Wait inside, he said, wheeling the bike away. Just a few minutes later, he re-emerged with the bike, and the answer to "How much?" was "Nothing". Three other cyclists had ridden away from the shop as I arrived, fully laden and waving. The mechanic asked if I had been with them - apparently I had just missed meeting my first group of fellow cycle pilgrims en route to Santiago de Compostela!

Even after all those adventures, I was happily installed at the hotel and my bike was fully secured by 4.00pm. My clothes were hanging up to dry, I was freshened up and out into town by 4.45pm. But before I tell you about that, I have to take a moment to tell you about my exciting shower. When I turned on the water, the shower shower head began to glow! It had coloured LEDs mounted in it, which glowed, and even changed colour slowly. The faster the water, the brighter the glow, so they must have been powered by the water flow. How exciting and novel. What fun. I do believe I had a longer shower as a result. It was certainly very welcome with all the road grit stuck to me! I've already been on www.iwantoneofthose.com to see if they have them, and they have a similar one for £39.99. Total extravagance, and not a very 'pilgrim' thought, but never mind. I haven't bought one anyway.

My exploration of Angoulême revealed a lovely old shopping centre with interesting shops and bars, but I made my way quickly to the cathedral. Angoulême's Cathedrale St-Pierre is a bit of an architectural nightmare in one way. 'Restoration work' by the architect Paul Abadie in 1866-1885 would be described by some people as vandalism. Read the Wikipedia article for more background. However, it has exciting features, and intriguing features. Two in particular come to mind: the shapes formed by the cupolas on the inside of the building, which I photographed in quite a few different ways (see the photostream), and the presence of Celtic designs and maybe even a Cuthbert Cross.

I first noticed a Celtic design in a small window over a door leading into the porch where the font is located. It quite took me aback, even being in a very Celtic-y shade of green. When I looked across the church to the other side, there was a similar one there too, and I spotted a number more - some of them high up in the central cupola over the crossing. I was quite fascinated, but have found no information to tell me why it might be there. Maybe someone with better historical research skills can tell us? But even more startling was to notice what looked exactly like a cross of St Cuthbert on the front of the temporary wooden nave altar being used while repairs and cleaning are done in the choir. When I looked around, there were similar ones carved in the stonework too, but not as convincingly the right shape. I still can't be sure, but with all that Celtic design around the church, is it so unlikely?? At any rate, I felt a connection home. I am happy to say that I was in plenty of time to get a pilgrim stamp, to meet the priest of the Cathedral - he and the man in the office were both full of admiration for the distance I had come.

There was plenty more to see, but things were closing by then. If I can mention just a couple, it has to be a bust of Hergé, the man who created the Adventures of Tintin, and a street named after him. Angoulême has quite a connection to the comic book industry, and is very proud of it. Hence there were bookshops and market stalls specialising in Tintin and other comic books, and also a little 'pocket' theatre, the Theatre de Poche, tucked away in an alley with amusing wall paintings leading the way to the door. So, here I am, blogging done already by early evening and dreaming of something to eat before a long ride to Bordeaux tomorrow. But I am in good shape, and so is the bike again, thankfully. I wonder how Stephen and Ivana's journey home is going?