First stop of the day was a short drive west of Limoges to the village of Oradour Sur Glane. On the 10th June 1944 the whole village was burned and destroyed by the Waffen SS who for good measure rounded up and slaughtered the 642 men, women and children. The men were rounded up first, shot and then set on fire. The women and children were locked in the Church which was then set on fire. They tried to flee and then were shot. Only five men and one woman managed to escape. You would think that its a story from the middle ages wouldn't you. To think this happened only 65 years ago makes it all the more shocking.
It's a very poignant place to visit. It didn't help when for a few minutes I was only one on the street and the crows started up in the background. It must have been a nice little village before the 10th June 1944. Placards on the front of the destroyed houses indicate where there once stood a Bakery, a Butcher's shop, a garage, a dentist's surgery and so on. The most tragic element of this seems to be that the Waffen SS actually destroyed the wrong town. They were given information by two French Civilians that a German Officer was being held by the Resistance at nearby Oradour-sur-Vayres.
Anyway a few pictures....
Moving on from there I drove south, through the completely forgettable city Limoges, where the human spirit is alive and well. I pulled up at the first set of traffic lights and some local prat in a battered Ford Focus tried to make out that I was blocking him from turning right. I was, but I'd already seen him cut up two other people and I thought a lesson in fair play was needed. No wonder they haven't won a Grand Prix in ages. Oliver Panis by a fluke in a Monaco monsoon back in 1997 if I'm not mistaken!
From Limoges it was a short 40 mile hop down the A20 to the small town of Uzerche. Not so much to do here, but it's quite a nice town.
From Uzerche I shunned the advice from Tom Tom and headed on the back roads to Tulle (Twinned with Bury, who Torquay play soon). I first heard of Tulle when I read Frederick Forsythe's excellent The Day of the Jackal. The Jackal, after seducing then slaying the Baroness de la Whorebag (can't quite remember the name!), caught the train disguised as a Danish Pastor from Tulle to the Gare D'Austerlitz in Paris. Unfortunately I couldn't get to the train station as the people from Tulle had blocked off the main street for a market. Edward Fox didn't have to put up with this kind of shit.
Tulle. Not the prettiest town in the world. Although I have heard that they produce the odd insane woman from time to time and then Eurostar employ them.
A few minutes outside Tulle on the way to Brive I got flashed by a speed camera. Hopefully nothing will come of it but you never know. I just come out of a tunnel into torrential rain et hop!
Then after dodging the non existant fog.......
I engaged the warp drive..........
to get to the Toulouse ring road.
It's when you see signs to Barcelona that it begins to sink in just how far you've driven. I will say that between Limoges and Tarbes I had to peform 4 acts of internal car gymnastics to actually get a ticket for the motorway. Why can't they have motorway vignettes like the Swiss and the Austrians. It makes life so much easier.
I reached Luz-Saint-Sauveur at about 1730. It's a very nice little house I've rented. I managed to get a bit of food in, half a roast chicken and some fresh pasta washed down with a half bottle of red wine while watching Bridget Jones in french and reading all about Torquay United's dismal 0-2 home capitulation to Grimsby Town.
This is my view from the Lounge/Dining room by the way. Not bad eh? All for 170 quid.
Deliberately killing civilians is a relatively modern idea, so I won't have this dissing the middle ages. They may not have had medicine, education, decent roads, etc., etc., etc. but at least they generally kept the killing to the armies. Of course, there were random acts of murder amongst the powerful elites ...
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