Day trip to Castres

Following on from previous post.
On a Day Out by myself, I would generally be pulled in the direction of the sea but I left it to Ezra to choose. 'Either Mazamet or Castres', he suggested.
My only recollection of the former was being lost, hungry and that no shops were open. The latter . . . an extremely run-down, and therefore interesting to us, hotel with purple-flowered wallpaper and a mysterious bidet on wheels.
The drive was supposed to encompass a viewing of the now-disused gold mine at Salsigne to the North of Carcassonne. We couldn't find it due to an absence of notices saying Gold mine this way, but I suppose the local population wouldn't want people wandering about in the hope of finding an overlooked nugget. Also, we were too hungry.
I pulled in Starsky and Hutch style on spotting this restaurant on the D118. I love places like this - suspended in a 1960s/70s time warp; the original bar/restaurant sign, the owners disinterest in tarting the place up and an emphasis on good, down to earth grub.
It was better than I expected: friendly waitress, a menu at 13 euros - including rabbit in mustard sauce - and an authentic non-designer interior.

After 'mimosa eggs', the afore-mentioned rabbit and chocolate banana tarts, we paid and continued happily along to Mazamet with that wonderful benevolent feeling that occurs after a great value and overly-ample meal.
Mazamet was a rain blur through the window. Apart from a brief scuttle through a downpour to look at a train (Ezra's request) we moved on, driving through the river valley and observing the various factories, used and disused that had once established the town as a textile centre.

My vague memory of Castres being a place with a crappy hotel and wheely bidet were rapidly replaced by realising that it's a smart town, a little like a small-scale Gerona with its riverside houses. Perhaps it has come up in the world since our visit; it certainly seemed so. The buildings looked well-cared for; the Goya museum, fascinating, except we arrived five minutes before closing time; and the formal gardens clipped and obviously loved.

We Took Tea in a very sumptuous shop that had a menu of a million teas or thereabout. My Assam (presented with egg timer to check brewing time) was perfect and Ezra's Matcha tea milkshake thing deemed to be fantastic.
After this we visited a sinister church, which we liked a lot, where some florists were attempting to brighten the interior for a wedding with huge vases of white lilies.

Shopping never being high on the agenda, I did manage to drag my son into an opticians as he really needs sunglasses. My opinion of Castres being a charming place was confirmed by an excellent example in The Art of Shop Assisting. The young woman spent about twenty minutes assisting Ezra with style, information about lenses etc; then adjusting our final, small budget-choice's arms/frames etc to give perfect vision and symmetry.

Altogether, a good Day Out.

Building number 40

Road diversions can be useful things if you are not too pressed and have an open mind about exploration on a non-dramatic scale.
Yesterday, Ezra and I set off for a day of exploration in Mazamet and Castres, about an hour and half East of the Hothouse.
Somewhere, in the deep woods of the Black Mountains (Les Montagnes Noire) we were diverted away from The D118 to a vertiginous route following the river towards Mazamet, (which I have just noticed while doing a bit of research, is home to a B and B that calls itself France's leading Bed and Breakfast . . . quite a label).
This route towards the town is listed on Google maps as being 'the route of factories' and was indeed littered with various breeze-block/corrugated edifices, some in a state of functionement, (if this isn't a word, it is now) others not, like this one with its gravity-defying chimney stack and angry Venetian blind.
I stood around and wondered, as I always do, as to when the door finally closed on the work-force and why nothing ever happened to the building afterwards.