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FRANCE came gently and unannounced. We'd ridden into it and out again in the quest for a meal, one street in Belgium, the next Abroad. It was only when we got back to the river that we saw a sign.

The best pleasures can be taken gently, and that's what we did today. We rode beside swans and away from Charleroi's armpit side. We are again Above Stairs, although this time there were no posh houses. In fact for most of the time there was nothing at all. Just the river and gentle pleasure.

We'd picked Maubeuge for its station. I can't tell you anything of the place, which is either an injustice or because we didn't notice anything. All we wanted was the station, which had been hidden behind car parks and a shopping centre and across a busy road. I'll say this about the place, though, that they appreciate heroes: three times we were applauded as we passed and three times we waved regally and gratefully in return.

We are now in the cool interior of Maubeuge station's circular concourse, sitting on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched in front of us. We have an hour and a half, something like that, and then we'll take the train to Paris. And from there the night train from another station to Montauban and the last stint to home.