In January we are usually discussing where to spend Mr McGregor’s February birthday which we have traditionally celebrated by clumping around some snowy (sometimes green) landscape be it Pyrenees, Jura, Alpes or Auvergne. Due to his continuing balance problems, heaps better but still there, snow and a walking stick seemed an uneasy combination. As the person who organises the bookings I pondered on an alternative that might be acceptable but kept it as a surprise.

Some years ago we spent a few days in Paris during the return from visiting the UK for a family wedding. On our way home from there we stopped at Tours to see a Vivien Maier photo exhibition in the Chateau de Tours which works in conjunction with the Jeu de Parme in Paris. I googled the chateau to see what was on offer and discovered an exhibition dedicated to the photographs of China taken by two French diplomats, or rather, one diplomat and one wife of a diplomat. The woman Helene Hoppenot took hers in the 20s and 30s while Andre Travert took his in the 50s and 60s. As we had visited China in 2007 I hoped Mr McGregor would find them interesting so went ahead and booked a hotel without telling him. A birthday surprise.

Of course, I was rumbled in early February when our older son was here and asked what we were doing for the special day. I owned up and was happy that there was an affirmative grunt although he still hankered for some snow. Maybe a day trip up to le Lioran later on to look at the white stuff?

Typically, or so it seems judging by our recent autoroute trips, the weather between Brive and Limoges was horrible, pouring rain and lots of spray from lorries to deal with. It was a Friday and school holiday changeover weekend so more traffic than usual. But once we left the motorway at Chateauroux the sun was intermittently shining and we even had a rainbow at one point. The GPS had found us the signposted route along the D943 which differed from Google but was great ..until we hit the suburbs of Tours. Then it was hateful. The GPS seemed to want to take us back to Paris on the A10 so I ended up following my nose and any signs for centre ville until we got close enough to the hotel to trust the GPS. It still tried to take us up no entries but after a hairy circuit which involved crossing tramlines (more of those later) we came out on the riverside, the Loire, and I recognised the carpark we needed.

Conveniently, it is situated under the concourse in front of the hotel so not far for us to stagger with suitcases in the rain. Two charming girls on reception in matching outfits, it was the Hilton after all, greeted us with smiles but then dropped the bombshell that the restaurant was closed all weekend. The main reason I had chosen this particular hotel. Was the bar closed too, I enquired. Affirmative, so no arrival beer for him or a kir pour moi. We were told there were lots of restaurants nearby and three names were scribbled down for us.

Up in our room we contemplated the gloom outside and the empty minibar (!) and googled the three restaurants. I rang down and asked if one could be booked for us. Thankfully it was able to take us at short notice.

Wrapping up well we headed out to see what Tours had in store for us. Luckily the rue de Colbert, which we later discovered was full of restaurants, was only a few minutes away once we had negotiated the tram tracks. I recognised the point where I had tentatively crossed them earlier!

Les Canailles was bustling and cheerful, decorated with old signs, LP covers etc. In its website blurb it said it modelled itself on the burons of Lyon which concentrate on traditional French dishes in simple surroundings. We felt really comfy and liked the menu.

and I finally got my arrival kir, petillant. 😊

A delicious meal served by cheerful girls and the rain had stopped when we left. We walked back slowly taking in the array of menus on offer from around the world; Turkish, Lebanese, Vietnamese, Ethiopian, Indian…and French, bien sur.

There were fascinating buildings and I later found out that this is one of the oldest streets in the city. We seemed to have struck lucky food wise even if the hotel had disappointed.

A restless night, comme d’hab. Neither of us sleep well in hotel rooms despite comfy beds and turning down the heating but the sun was in evidence when we finally gave up the pretence of slumber and made tea (me) and coffee for the birthday boy.

The chateau only opens in the afternoon so we had hoped we could explore a little of Tours beforehand and it looked as if we might get away with a dry morning. Breakfast was copious and had the possibility of choosing a full English from the hot plates. I stuck to my usual fresh fruit with fromage blanc, a change from the plain yoghurt usually on offer, while Mr McGregor sampled the sausages and baked beans etc.

Planning ahead, I had photocopied a town plan from our Michelin France map book having remembered town maps were included in the back of our copy. It was only a few minutes walk to the place Plumereau, a beautiful square probably best avoided in high season but relatively quiet as there were few tourists about and just restaurant staff putting out chairs etc.

As we wandered we read menus boards outside the many restaurants lining the place and I deciphered the historical information under its graffiti! Then it was onto Les Halles which turned out to be a very long and modern building full of Saturday shoppers with an open air market at one end.

Like many people we love the bustle of a market but it was chilly despite the sunshine so we kept on the move.

We had passed some impressive stone churches and towers already and decided to walk back by a different route towards Place Plumereau hoping to find a sunny terrace for a coffee stop.

Back in the place the restaurants and cafes had opened and there were a few sunny spots so a birthday beer and a lovely facetime with the petit fils singing Happy Birthday to his Dada while I drank my cappuccino contentedly.

Then a wander around the smaller alleyways of the Vieux Tours…

Feeling peckish we decided to return to rue Colbert to see if we could find a light lunch somewhere. Himself remembered the Lebanese cafes so we scrutinised a few menus and opted for the Beyrouth which has two tiny places a few doors from each other. We squeezed in and ordered several mezzes to share. Hmmm, maybe not such a light lunch as planned!

Needless to say, most of it disappeared as it was freshly prepared and delicious. It was decided a return to the hotel for a short nap might be a good idea but first, find a restaurant for the birthday dinner. Already we’d seen the ‘complet’ signs had gone up in quite a few windows. After several turns back and forth we booked le Laurenty which was very busy at lunchtime so seemed a good advertisement. I chose the first sitting for seven o’clock.

After a snooze in our room we discovered the rain had returned in earnest so it was a blustery wet walk along the riverbank to the chateau, fortunately just a few minutes away.

The gallery was busy, maybe everyone sheltering from the rain? The Chinese photos were on the ground and first floor. Two more exhibitions lay in the third and fourth but after labouring up the shiny steep wooden staircase we decided to give the topmost exhibition a miss.

Another time, Chloe Jeanne! The black and white photos were fascinating. There were a few squeals and nudges as I recognised places we’d visited although very different to look at now. The historical changes due to arrival of Mao Zedong were witnessed by Andre Tavern and evidenced in his photos but we remembered the abject poverty that still persisted that we saw down side streets and alleys in the cities we visited.

The photos prompted happier memories too. The Bund in Shanghai that buzzed in the evening as people strolled and hawkers sold everything from selfie sticks to rubber toys that changed shape and stuck to the pavement as they flung them dramatically. The police cruised in golf buggies and the traders melted away, one young girl snuggling up to my husband, begging him not to give her away!

Suzhou, where rich young couples go to have their wedding photos taken amongst the canals of this Venice of the east. My chief memory is of dodging the traffic outside the station after our canal cruise, slurping on huge ice creams bought for us by our jolly guide, Mabel. She told me I must have Chinese blood in my veins as I expertly avoided being run down. 😊

Another blustery and wet walk back to the hotel before going out to dinner.

As hoped we had an excellent evening meal in a friendly atmosphere with a conscientious staff who made sure we had all we needed. It was lovely to be able to sit back and relax after all the events since last year’s birthday spent in la Bourboule.

Greedily I ordered the cafe gourmand which himself teased me about but then succumbed and helped me finish it off.

Sunday morning was wet again as we dashed to rue de Colbert for the nearest supermarket for bread and something for supper when we got home but I still dawdled and took some last photos of this fascinating town.

Apparently, we had walked past the house reputed to belong to the ‘armurier’ who provided the battle armour for Jeanne d’Arc in 1492. There is a sign to that effect but way up on the first floor facade of the building. I missed it but found it on Google earth. 😊

The weather on the way home was abysmal so we were very grateful for the sunny Saturday that had opened our eyes to some of the delights of Tours we hadn’t known existed on our previous visit.