The hostel was quite a way out of the centre of Périgueux, but it was presided over by the marvellous Jean-Charles, who was most helpful.

The first hour and a half of walking involved escaping very dreary town and suburbs, but eventually we got into woodland walking. Fairly up and down, but vastly preferable to noise and traffic. Going uphill is largely a matter of persistence and patience (and not stopping) whereas coming downhill is more wearing on the legs. So, when it wasn’t too stony I tried a new technique – la déscente à la gazelle! This involves using your poles like two extra legs, and gallumphing down the slope, so that all your weight is not put on each leg at every step. It is surprisingly effective, and good fun, though in my case it is more heffalump than gazelle!

The iconography of the Camino is overwhelmingly masculine, the one exception being Our Lady, who may be taken to be the patron of the whole enterprise. But in truth, the most interesting pilgrims I have met on the road this far have been women, so it was particularly good to see this tiled picture of a female pilgrim on a house wall in a hamlet called Beaulieu. I sent up a prayer of thanks for the strength and enterprise of so many women.

I had stopped for a drink and to check the route when I heard a clip-clopping behind me. It was this horse and its rider. She was a lady of a certain age, and both she and her mount were impeccably turned out, down to her pearl stud earrings. The rising trot turned into a walk and she stopped to pass the time of day. She advised strongly against trying to follow the official route as she said there was a well-nigh impassable section. Then on she went, and I was left grateful for the kindness of country folk.

It was a beautiful day for walking, and after a lunch break in Gravelle, it wasn’t long before we were coming into Saint-Astier. Names hereabouts are in French and in Occitan, and when I saw the town sign I wondered if there was a message here!

The town was lovely, and though it was 2.30pm on a Sunday afternoon, the restaurant owner in the town square was very happy to serve us beer, and fill our water bottles and let us relax for a bit. It means a lot to tired pilgrims when people offer such simple kindness. And the beer was magnificent.

The church was magnificent, but locked. It had extraordinary features of being almost fortified

But the best bit of the day came last. We had booked in to a Chateau du Puyferrat for the modest price of 24€. It is impossible to know quite what you will get. Toads and frogs croaked at us from an adjoining pond as we toiled up the slope to this:

I rather thought we might be in the stables, in a converted bit. I couldn’t have been more wrong. We were on the second floor of the castle itself with a bedroom each, bedlinen and towels provided. A bath as well as a shower, and direct access onto the ramparts. I was completely blown away.

We had a simple supper that we had brought in and then retired. I slept like, I was going to say, a baby, but perhaps more like la Belle au Bois Dormant!