In July 2003 as part of 'Jeremy Bein's nice little adventure 2002' (a six-week holiday in Britain France and Japan) I spent seven days cycling in northern and central Brittany. I arrived in St Malo and returned to Britain by Condor ferry from Poole on the south coast of England, staying exclusively at youth hostels and doing a modest 80-100k cycling each day. My route took me from St Malo south along the Rance estuary and canal tow path to Dinan, south-west across country to the Foret de Broceliande of Arthurian legends,along the Nantes Brest canal to fascinating Pontivy, North around Lake Guerledan to St Guen, further north across country to Lannion, than east along the beautiful coast to St Malo via Cap Frehel. France was fantastic. Long summer days of cycling down quiet country lanes, the locals assuming you were a French native until you stopped and actually spoke to them in what must seem a terrible French accent. Lunch time stops under a shady tree, spreading a towel like a picnic rug, slicing a thin crusty loaf with a knife, and spreading Roquerfort cheese and slices of sausage on top. Opening a half bottle of red, and after lunch thinking.. “it’s too hot to cycle yet, I’ll wait until four before I head off again, and having a snooze in the shade. The wonderful meals at night... another half dozen oysters Bretagne, mussels, fillet poivre... good grief, it was so hard to take! The colourful Brittany cottages, rugged coastlines, fields of maize, busy markets packed with people and stalls full of local cheese and sausage, towpaths beside tranquil canals, the smell of freshly cooked bread wafting from the patisserie at eight in the morning, old men proudly tending their flower gardens, beautiful young women who smile and say bonjour as you cycle past, tiny ancient streets crammed with exotic shops, spellbinding churches, proud arches, strong town walls and tumbling castles. That was France.