Day 4: Toulouse

Clare woke up this morning feeling unwell and so we decided to stay rooted instead of travelling. I bought her some cough medication but it wasn't a miracle cure and so she spent the day in bed.

Having missed Cafard on Saturday and having a day to myself, it made sense to get in touch with him to arrange to meet up at our former local, which was closed on the previous attempt because of the August holidays. I hadn't seen him since 2002, a whopping eight years. That's some going for people who used to live in each other's pockets.

We'd both changed over the years. I'd gone from severely skinny and underweight to the exact opposite. He'd had a haircut, and whilst telling people on Facebook "I've found Tim. He's fat" had informed me that he had no belly whatsoever to speak of anymore. That was a complete lie, an example of what Nico said to me on the phone the previous day in Albi about how Cafard "raconte que des conneries". I wouldn't have had it any other way - it was so, so much fun to see him and carry on as we had left off, including mirroring the big hug that we left each other with the first time I left Toulouse:

We spent ages catching up on the missing years and reminiscing about old times and then headed off to a burger bar not far from the hotel, so that Clare could come and meet us for dinner. I'd ordered him to be on his best behaviour and I think he managed to pull it off.

Clare felt better and so we had big plans for the next day - we were going to go to a village in the sky.