I lost my blues in Blois.
In the private royal prayer room. With sexy saints like these, no wonder Catholicism was all the rage.
My road out of Blois, following the Loire upstream.
Disco and blues
Turns out Blois was a centre of ceramics excellence. Is that where I get my love of this artform from?
Blois blues. Much real estate for sale.
Stairs up through the old city walls.
More Blois blues.
One of the earliest cameras ever. Employed by the architect to record his greatness.
Love the mix of old and new. Business today in ancient buildings.
Thousands of years of footsteps here.
The royal castle, home to 7 kings and 10 queens.
Magical sound and light show in the castle courtyard
More stairs through city gates.
Neutrals and blues: my favourite shades.
Great staircase of the royal castle.
More views from the ramparts.
How many people must walk a stone staircase to leave their trace?
Hat style. Brought back memories of the extensive hat collection I had when I visited Blois last.
Because of course you wear a suit to sit in the park and read your paper.
Flatlands, a stone’s throw from my ancestral birthplace.
Second-hand bookshop. No space for people.
Looking down on the riffraff.
Doug’s alter ego.
Low GI. All the good stuff, none of the bread.
Still more Blois blues. More pastel than the Provencal blue.
Picture of queen and twins. In another queen’s private dressing room.
Leaving Blois. Leaving the blues.