Collioure

Despite our best efforts we ended up driving through the heart of Toulouse on our journey south.

We negotiated the tangle of roads around Perpignan poorly. Instead of arriving in Collioure in the daylight, to enjoy the town, we got there after dark.

Our Airbnb hosts had told us about some nice restaurants.

But after dark in late November, Collioure is a ghost-town. Exhausted restaurant owners and staff had all left town.

I tried to engage a taxi-driver in conversation but as soon as he realised I wasn't a fare he became uncommunicative. He didn't know if any restaurants were open.

He couldn't even give me directions to Les Templiers, the town's most famous hotel/restaurant.

"But you're a local taxi-driver!" I said.

"Yea, but I'm not with the tourist office, "he grumbled and went back to his smart-phone.

We walked on and eventually ate at the only place open in town ... not a restaurant, more of a glorified bar.

Customers in the dining area included a raucous Spanish family, a pair of octogenarian Englishmen and a German couple.

The food was passable.

A bunch of dishevelled young men came in at 9 o'clock to watch the Champions League game between Barcelona and a German side.

We walked back to our accommodation in the mild, late-evening air, to the sound of water lapping  against the ramparts.