33Miles managed to hire a car, but the owner of the garage offered him nothing more than a clapped out Fiat. The rate, ironically, remained unchanged. In no position to barter, Miles handed over the cash and took to the road.
The drive took him through the Yonne valley, sparkling under the sunshine in all its glory. Endless rolling fields, hyphenated by woodland and gentle, meandering rivers. He found himself wondering why he had never visited the area before now. Perhaps, living in a landscape as glorious as Scotland, he never felt the urge. Now, having seen Burgundy, he knew that here was a land equally, if not even more breathtaking than his own.
The kilometres blurred by. The radio did not work, so he entertained himself by humming old tunes, dragged up from his memory, but soon even
