We ride the single track road, slightly raised in the midst of rolling arable fields for as far as the eye can see, all lilting in the breeze against the grey, sky blurred with mist. It’s the first time my heart has lifted all day, the first time I get hold of who I am, among this verdant peace. I spot the sign to the Hostellerie de Petit Spinois – the same that directed us, half desperate off the main road, having few other options at this late, hungry point in the day – and