Another warm night. Late morning we wander up to the town of Lathus.

It's typical of the best of French settlements, somewhere between big village and small town. There is a boulangerie, small Spar, florist, ice cream parlour and bank plus two hairdressers, a bar restaurant, a 'Marie Multiserve' which is the municipal office and post office under one roof, and of course the church. Everywhere is clean, litter free and a sense of community pride, yet there is hardly a soul about.

Just past the aire is a park with small lake so we collect some picnic stuff from the van and sit under a tree by the lake enjoying prawns, bread and white wine. With the pink dappled reflections of a couple of houses and the mirror image of trees and reeds it could almost be Constable's Hay Wain. Most of the grass, like everywhere, is a parched straw colour but about 3 metres all around the pond remains green, with yellow buttercups scattered about.

Fish jump and frogs croak, a few little ones even come onto the mudbanks to bask for a few minutes before leaping back with a splash.

Later we take a two mile walk down the road to the River Gartempe. After passing the equestrian centre where a group of 'Thellwells' are under instruction, legs dangling from their dog-sized ponies, we join an almost disused road parallel with the main route past a chateau. By the river the trees give shade as the river burbles over little boulders. Two fishermen sit as motionless as their rods and an elderly woman strips down to her bathing costume and wades in for a swim.

Disappointingly the bar, whose website says is open from noon to 23:00, is shut. No lemonade on the terrace then.

After a slow return to the van we sit in the shade between the little hedges until dusk.

After dark, owls hoot, a few birds of prey screech but most of the noise comes from the crows in the big row of oaks. Whether the birds of prey are threatening them, we cannot see, but they rattle away in distress until well after 1:00am.