Today we walked here. Set off in the cool, and aimed to eat lunch in the creparie. Unfortunately it only opens in the evenings during the month of July and August, which makes it pretty exclusive. Still, Clermont de Beauregard is fascinating and we spent time following the road that encircles it. In the centre of the tiny village is the church and a chateau, which the French call a castle, and a ruined tower stands alone mid-way between the two. Obviously once it was attached to other buildings, but they have long since gone. The village is on a hill to begin with, and the church and tower are visible for miles around. The view over the surrounding countryside is not to be sniffed at, either.
Walking back, we surprised a heron fishing below the bridge, and he took off only three feet away from me.
We drove back to the creparie about 6pm and the appetising smells told us tghe place was open. We walked up the steps and into a dim, low-ceilinged and empty room with five or six tables covered in the classic red and white checked tablecloths - but each and every one held a reserve sign. A lady thudded up some internal stairs hidden behind the reception desk in the corner by the door and greeted us politely. In French, of course. By this time I'd checked every table. 'Tout reservee?' I asked.
'Oui', said the lady and picked up a small notebook to consult a list. Fearing a conversation neither dh nor I would understand, we smiled, and said 'Ne problem pas. Une autre jour.'
'Ah, oui.' She smiled and gave us a sheet bearing the telephone number and times of opening. After all, it was Saturday night, and we ought to have known better. But I think we both secretly thought it might not be open at all, so we went away quite happy. We will go back another day.