Travelling, or just consuming?

At the entrance of the onboard shop on the cross-Channel ferry is a large cheerful and highly ambiguous sign saying 'Wave goodbye to high street prices'. Yes indeed. Here the sunglasses cost £200, and a vast array of perfumes and creams in different brands and boxes start at about £31. Whatever fun I used to get browsing such spaces has completely gone. The books and maps department has shrunk to a single shelf selling colouring-in books and comics, plus a couple of phrase books in German, French or Dutch. The entire experience is a rat trap, selling only things which maximise profit, and there is literally nothing on sale of any use, purpose, inspiration or longevity. It is all about addiction: alcohol, 'beauty', appearance. It is a shame. There's nothing wrong with making a profit, but somehow the customer, me, has been written out of the story. I am travelling to learn, change, grow, act. I do not want to feel dictated to, or passive, or merely a recipient of someone else's designs and theories. They have got this wrong.

Once again I get this big hit of 'change' the moment we get to France. It's just – French. The landscape, the tree-planting, the signage, the exasperation, all Gallic.

Through inattention we take a more circuitous route down to Tours than needs be, but find lovely Roman roads along the way, an industrial zone called Musset, a plastic chicken in a cage in a supermarket on the eggs shelf, and eventually our chalet on a campsite near the Loire. It is not a Tardis, being smaller inside than out, but it's comprehensively equipped and proves to be comfortable and fun. The bed takes up most of the space in the 'bedroom' which leads to hilarious edgings-round to get to the loo in the night. We had reserved a table at le Petit Patrimoine restaurant in town (and would not have got in otherwise) because we loved the meal we had there in May. This time it's slightly less successful (never go back) but still offers some superb cooking. The sauces are absolutely traditional reductions, and Andrew's first course – a parfait of crême fraiche with a tomato sorbet in the middle – is world-class. The meal was slightly marred by his anxiety at having mislaid his small wallet with money and cards in it.... We found it on the ground by the car when we got back to the chalet.

We have breakfasted on delicious croissants and a jam or marmalade of Oranges Amères, and today we will do very little. We are trying to have less oomphetty holidays and more wandering around time.