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