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I know lots of you enjoyed my last galavanting post, so there will be more through the summer.

As normal I am in bed drinking a cup of tea (for my Non English readers I am from Essex in England so it is pronounced: cuppaty) whilst writing this blog. It is unseasonably chilly here in France so necessary to stay tucked in bed with a Welshie and cat snuggled up to me, whilst my lovely hubby makes the second cuppaty of the day.

Last Sunday Rich was asked to go and meet someone for a job, and we ended up in the pretty little village of Lonlay L’abbeye, in the Department of Orne, just over the border in Normandy.

As you may have guessed the town started as a Benedictine monastery originating back to 1020, which has had at least three fires, and was sadly decimated in WW2 when the Germans punished the villagers for welcoming American troops.

Only the church and some of the cloisters now remain of what was the abbey.

So we found ourselves in this pretty village on a blustery spring day. We walked around the gardens at the back of the church, surrounded by small apple trees, where, although now divided up, you could see what had been the land belonging to the Monastery.

There by the stream was the original cider press used by the monks all those years ago to make the cider for which Normandy is so famous. Amazing that this building had survived all the trials and tribulations that the village had endured.

With a stream running around the church gardens you had to cross small bridges to get to other parts of town: so quaint.

There was something about this place: it had a tranquility about it, it was so calm, and I loved it.

You can see from the photos all the tiny higgledy piggledy houses, some backing on to the stream: how I would love to live there with a babbling brook for company all day.

Rich & The Welshies, chilling by the brook

There were a number of small bars and restaurants and a little square with terraces, but sadly because it was Sunday all the bars were shut. So we have vowed to come back on a warm sunny evening to have a meal, and some vin, and to soak up the tranquil atmosphere whilst listening to the babbling brook.

Nothing came of the job, but life had still showed us the way: we found Lonlay L’abbeye.

Moisy

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