Since we now had no mattress on the bed on the barge, we resolved to sleep at La Maison for the last few days of our stay. However, that turned out well this morning as I saw this glorious sunrise by leaning out of our bedroom window and looking left to the East.

We had agreed with Don and Laura to go with them today to the Agen Prune Festival (yes, I said Prune Festival). Agen is the “Prune Capital” of France (there is even a Prune Museum on the banks of the River Lot, north of Agen) and each year they hold a Prune Festival weekend. Since we had heard about it a lot, we thought we should go and see what it is all about. Unfortunately, Don and Laura are early birds and had arrived in Agen before we were even out of bed. And so as we were driving to Agen, we got a call from them saying that they were already on their way home, because nothing was really happening. But we decided to push on and see for ourselves, in the hope that most of the action would be happening later in the day.

As we walked through the streets of Agen at lunch time, we were surprised that all the outdoor restaurant streets that we had seen on previous visits were strangely empty. I thought they would be packed if this was a Festival weekend. But soon we started to see some evidence of a festival, with a collection of sidewalk games. One that I particularly liked was this slotcar-like bicycle race game, where contestants peddled as hard as they could to get their little bicycle to go around the track on the trolley. The guy running the game gave a spirited commentary as they raced to the finish. It was a popular game with people lined up to play, between brother and brother, father and son etc. We watched several games before I moved around the side of the trolley, and saw that the entire game was controlled by the guy in the white singlet, who manually controlled the speed of the little bicycles on the track to produce a close finish or a come-from-behind victory, in order to maintain interest in the game for contestants and spectators. Very clever, and no one seemed any the wiser.

As we walked across the the square in front of the Mairie (with the cafe that serves the best Creme Brulee in the world), we saw that a huge stage had been set up for a concert. A band was on stage doing a sound check, and so we got to hear several songs as a preview of the big concert later that evening, if we were still around.

But very little else seemed to be happening, as Don and Laura had said. So we just wandered around for a while, and eventually made our way to Eglise Notre Dame du Bourg. Since the church was empty, Rita took out her flute to test the acoustics, and when she discovered they were good, she proceeded to play several songs. As she played, I walked around the church, and thought it rather appropriate when I discovered a statue of Sainte Rita! I bought several candles in plastic cups with Sainte Rita on the side for later use in case of emeregency on the barge.

As we made our way back to the Boulevard de la Republique, the main pedestrian walkway through the centre of town, we chanced upon a show featuring musicians and various props and puppet figures. The music was strange and the performance even stranger, but they were very good at getting the audience involved in the performance.

It was a very hot day, so when we saw a table become vacant in front of a cafe/bar on the Boulevard, we grabbed it and ordered some cool drinks. Rita also took advantage of the spray towers located at intervals along the boulevard. It was fun just sitting in front of the cafe watching how various people approached and then used the spray towers.

Given that it was Saturday afternoon, it was probably not surprising that we heard the cacophany of multiple car horns sounding, and soon enough a wedding procession came down the main road from the station. This is definitely a very French tradition, and the pedestrians along the street joined in to give a rousing reception to the bride and groom as they passed by. No seat-belts needed for these cars in France!

By late afternoon, we had to decide whether to stay for the evening concerts or not. In the end, we decided to move on and visit the hilltop town of Puymirol on the way back to Moissac. Today the swimming pool, perched on the edge of a steep cliff on the side of the hill, was open. If Rita had had her swim costume with her, I’m sure she would have gone in for a dip. But she didn’t, so we settled for a cool drink from the cafe. While we sipped our drinks, we watched a group of family and friends playing rugby in the pool. The game had all shapes, sizes, ages and genders of player, and the game was being played for keeps. They were having such fun that we just sat and watched, and eventually we ordered dinner at the cafe. The rugby game continued, with regular changes of players, until the sun set and the pool started to close.

After we got back to Moissac, I checked the SGP Grand Prix results from Gorzow (Poland), and was pleased to see Australian Jason Doyle had taken out the title, with Australian-raised Tai Woffinden 2nd and Aussie Chris Holder 3rd. The local favourite, Polish rider Bartosz Zmarzlik was fourth.