After the windy night in Montpellier, we headed off on the longest journey of the holiday, broken up by a stop to meet a friend on her holiday. This journey went on for seven days. Or more possibly. We stopped in the Ardeche for pizza served by a decidedly miserable French woman, caught up with our friends and her little boy for an hour or so which was lovely and got back on the road. We stopped at possibly the worst French service station there is, it felt like we were in some kind of b movie about a motorway murder. The only upside was the free balloon. Then we drove. And drove. And kept driving. The weeks turned into months, months into years. The baby got restless so his parents sang. The wheels on the
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