In twenty short minutes it was all over and we walked back down to the car to find our hotel in La Pesse, a neighbouring village. Looking forward to a cool, quiet night we dined in and collapsed into bed. Coolish it may have been, at least with the skylight window in our room open to the night air, quiet it was for a while. Then the clock on the village church struck ten. With the window open and the bell tower fewer than 30 metres away it was ten rather loud bongs.
"I think most church bells only ring up till about ten or eleven in the evening," said la bienheureuse, hopefully.
The clock duly announced eleven pm, then midnight..
Then one, then two, and so on through all through the night, with a few random chimes thrown in for good measure at one o'clock, which temporarily lulled me into the blissful false belief that I might have actually fallen asleep for more than an hour.
Lesson learned. Never book a hotel without checking the whereabouts in relation to the village church. In the morning, dark rims and bags under our eyes, we set off for home, stopping off en route for another pleasant walk, up and down the Crêt au Merle, followed by a short stroll to take in the stunning view at the Belvédère du Cuchet. From there it was downhill all the way, back to the Lyon heat...