I haven't blogged for a while partly because I've been on a fabulous holiday in the Dordogne, where I scandalously failed to visit the recreation of the cave paintings at Lascaux. Instead of paying a reverential visit to see man's first attempts at a visual reproduction of his animal friends and foes we sat enjoying the peace at the house in the countryside we'd rented, and occasionally jumping in the pool to cool off. Ms T and I rather fell for the place and we're promising a ourselves a return trip - although maybe we won't drive the 700 miles next time, given the number of handy airports we found out about when we got down there. Never mind, Rachel and J stood the rigours of my driving with great fortitude.
We did stir ourselves a bit, wandering around Perigueux where there's a superb little military museum. It's one of those charming places with the accent on show rather than tell, lovingly tended and full of interesting stuff from a massive variety of conflicts. One exhibit simply a map of Algeria with little flags and a book - did you serve in Algeria? asked a notice. Please sign here and plant your flag; and a lot of people had. Then suddenly in one case, bringing me up short, the terrifying uniforms worn by residents of the town who had found themselves inmates at Ravensbruck concentration camp.