The first train this morning goes by at 06:50, so the railway isn't a disturbing factor at all.

Around 11:00 we leave and drive through the town of Messac. It is quite attractive, divided by the river which is crossed by a bridge. We make a note that we should come into town if we ever stay here again.

An hour later we arrive at the aire in Rochefort en Terre, a town we visited once before over 20 years ago, and wander up to see if it can charm us a second time.

The answer is a resounding yes. Our previous visit was on a dull, drizzly day when the solid granite buildings looked cold and a little drab but today, in bright sunshine all the stonework is light, warm and textured.

Many of the buildings in the old town are 15th/16th century, constructed from solid Breton granite that nothing has made a mark on since. Many are elevated from the road level with steep steps and flower laden terraces. Daisies and rock roses grow from fissures in the foundation rocks, where lizards scurry in the sunshine, and windows are decorated with boxes of geranium and pansies. Old wooden doors are painted maroon or pale green and where there is the occasional timber framed facade these are painted in brightly contrasting colours.

As to expect, the shops are a bit touritsy, but with small windows and very little on-street displays, the charm and authenticity of the centuries-old scene is relatively unblemished.

The terraces of the creperies and restaurants are filling fast and many are too high to reasonably be made accessible, but in a side street we find 'La Rouge', a tiny bistro run by an English woman, with a Italian style menu du jour of salad caprese and tagliatelle Bolognese. Washed down with a carafe of red wine - perfect. When paying, Ali points out that there is no charge for the wine. The owner adds two glasses of merlot to the bill, Ali says it was a 50cl carafe and the owner says not to fuss, the rest is on the house.

We wander down a lane to the old lavoir, a small pond covered by the typical post and tiled roof. Water boatmen skim the surface and damsel flies hover, glinting in the sun.

Returning to the centre we see the chateau gate with posters for a music festival this weekend so we go in to look. Halfway down the avenue a woman is up a ladder, stringing the white lace streamers between the trees. She's already done half of the walkway and it looks lovely. The whole thing has a Celtic or mild hippy flavour to it; carpet and sofas on the lawn, performance stage being erected and bar being assembled, dreamcatchers tied to branches and a little stall of craftwork.

Content that we've seen all we need to see we sit in the square with a cold drink before heading back to the aire.