Chateau Rochefoucauld

France, April 2008


Visiting Mum White (Jane), along with Becky, at St. Claud. We touristed to Rochefoucault, pilgrimaged to Oradour-sur-Glane, stumbled upon the home of Cardinal Richelieu, stopped off at Rouen, and finally, almost at Calais, found a much less tampered-with monument in the form of Batterie Todt. Willi Betz 19, Eddie Stobart 12, by the way.

Chateau Rochefoucauld

Estate archives

Archive library

Missing floor

The family wing

Lizard (mono)

Lizard (colour)

Drainage column

Drainage column detail

Lightroom

Becky's demon

09 Apr 2008 11
(Can you spot him?)

Ornate trunk carving

Shell stone

Windowseat (1)

Windowseat (2)

Oradour street

10 Apr 2008 12
I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

Oradour street sign

10 Apr 2008 8
I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

Oradour street with garage

10 Apr 2008 11
I couldn't like Oradour. That's a strange thing to say, I know: how could you "like" a village which the nazis just turned up one day and destroyed? They shot practically everyone. Just like that. But this place has been "preserved" in a way which, for me, stripped it of any emotion, of any sort. There are a few too many rusty sewing machines on windowsills. It's been manipulated. I was deeply moved when I read about the village, but not when I saw it. Actually, I recommend you don't go, just find out about those people and be satisfied with that. The wartime bunker we found later, by accident, was infinitely more imbued with memories and – dare I say – ghosts.

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