Peter's pick for his birthday so last Thursday, we packed up the car and drove north to the city of Albi via the Black Mountains.
Years since we were here and I'd forgotten what a stupendously lovely city this is with its red-pink brick buildings and bridges across the Tarn.
Dominating the view is the cathedral built by the Church to remind those around that The Church Ruled (this was after they'd slaughtered thousands of Cathars). More fortress than holy place, it's large and ominous. Every square centimetre of its interior is painted, one of the main paintings being of the Last Judgement and depicting, in rather too vivid detail, what happens if you break one of the seven main sins. When Peter bought three postcards of the fate awaiting gluttons (and another one), the young man behind the counter pointed out that the cathedral sold postcards of all the sins. We'd just picked our favourites.
Outside was much cheerier with beds blazing with orange and yellow flowers, and a marvellous formal garden. Signage in braille means that everyone can "see" its intricacies.