I have a feeling that the logistics to moving our four dogs, seven cats and four kittens to our new home is going to prove a tad challenging. While all the felines can certainly travel in Gus the Bus, it’s the number of cat baskets we’ll need that’s slightly daunting. Having said that I think we have as many computers as animals now and finding packing boxes for them should prove an interesting exercise. Various coloured folders are now on my desk filled with an assortment of action plans, To Do lists, maps and property details. Staying focussed will be essential but, unlike many people when they move, we are not tied to a deadline - though I would like to be ‘in’ by Christmas . . .

Nigel and I have decided that our best course of action is to rent a place initially. Like intrepid adventurers our first trip will be one of reconnoitring the lay of the land and seeing what kind of properties exist. Shall we buy a ruin or something partly renovated? There again, moving straight in without having to do any DIY or building work might suit us best. Above all, there must be an internet connection. It will also be important that we work with a truly trust-worthy estate agent and while using the internet as a basis for my property research has been a god-send, dealing with a professional but caring team will be essential to the positive success of our venture.

I must admit that the thought of moving from here scares me a little but at the same time, fills me with a sense of anticipation and excitement. The Lot and Garonne/Dordogne region of Aquitaine, known as the Other South of France, is a land rich in chateaux, medieval villages and architectural sites so I’ll feel right at home there. In fact, Nigel and I made a brief visit there in August 2004 to interview the very charming Polly Platt and vowed to return to discover the region in more detail. Four years on here we are planning to move there. Funny old world.

Further afield is the Gironde and the Atlantic coastline and Arcachon Bay that claims to have Europe’s largest sand dune, the Dune de Pyla, whose tip is called rather brilliantly Cap Ferrat. After the pebble beaches of Nice it will be fun to discover over 3 kms of uninterrupted and beautiful golden sands. I hasten to add that this is not one of my photos but one found on the internet. I look forward to the day when I shall stand in that same spot, sand creeping through my toes, and take a photo myself.

Today was another one of those embarrassing discoveries when we again voiced our inevitable mantra Why Didn’t We Do This Years Ago? Yes folks, after seven years of living here on the French Riviera I finally made it to the Iles de Lerins. Well, Ile Ste Marguerite anyway. And what an unexpected pleasure. With me came Nigel of course and two of our dogs, Bertie and Freddy plus Jill from the English Book Centre in Valbonne and her dog Scruffy. Like us, Jill had not visited the island before and so upon hearing our plan for this Sunday, asked if she could accompany us.

Departing Cannes, a short 25 minute motor boat ride brought us to the island. Once there we decided to visit the fort first, famous for having incarcerated the Man in the Iron Mask and then make our way round the island’s perimeter to Pointe du Vengeur where we would stop for our picnic. We were all uncertain about what we would find but I’m delighted to say that the island surpassed our expectations. The May issue of AMB will have my article relating to today’s excursion plus loads of photos but suffice to say that, if you’ve never been, it really is well worth a visit if you’re like us and enjoy both walking and nature. Anyway we’d loved it, as did the dogs - for most of the time off the lead - and though we walked for about four hours (plus extra time visiting the fort and then a break for lunch) we found that we’d only covered half the island.

When we first came off the motor launch and, later, as we walked around the island it was difficult not to notice a fair number of mauve stinger jellyfish pulsating in the waters. I think they are Pelagia noctiluca which have become a bane around the Mediterranean over the past few years and seem to be on the increase with swarms arriving in summer time just when the tourist season is in full swing. From all accounts it seems their presence is due to a decrease in predators, saltier waters due to low rainfall and warmer Mediterranean waters.

Mind you, when compared to the Nomura’s jellyfish found off the coast of Japan, they are mere tiddlers. Those monsters can grow as much as 6 feet (2 meters) in diameter and weigh up to 450 pounds (220 kilogram). While I might just tolerate meeting up with one of these mauve jellies when out snorkling, there is no way I’d be a happy bunny with one of those big boys. I must hasten to also add that this is not one of my photos taken while scuba diving but one I found on the internet while researching the name of the mauve jelly chaps.

Yesterday Jil Bartley and I undertook the long drive to Valensole in the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence. Jil had been notified of the plight of two mini dachshunds who had been abandoned in rather dire circumstances and asked if I’d accompany her to rescue them. Torrential rains on Monday made motorway driving conditions too hazardous but with time being of the essence for these two tiny dogs, we decided to go Tuesday come rain or shine. To our relief, we were blessed with blue skies and warm sunshine for most of our trip.

Nigel had carefully helped to plan the journey programming the GPS and printing out the route for me as he would stay home to keep an eye on all the furries while Jil and I accomplished (hopefully) our rescue mission. After picking up Jil and Nanette (Jil’s original rescue dog) from Vence I then took the road down to Cagnes-sur-Mer and hooked up to the A8 motorway.

Our route would take us through a number of departments: the Alpes-Maritimes of course but also the Var, Bouches-du-Rhone, Vaucluse and finally, the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence. From the stunning red ochre hills of the Esterel, we passed fields of brown stubby vines their pale green leaves just starting to show.

Approaching Aix-en-Provence, the much loved and formidable St Victoire mountains of Paul Cezanne loomed into view as the scenery again changed with gnarled holm oak trees and umbrella pines soon dominating the rocky landscape.

Once into the Vaucluse we followed the muddy waters of the Durance river and then finally found ourselves, just under three hours later, in the Alpes-de Hautes-Provence and our destination, Domaine La Belle Terre (also known as Association Cent Pas).

And what an incredible location it was. The animal rescue home, located on a stretch of road between Manosque and Valensole, was situated on a plateau offering a 360 degree view of the entire surrounding landscape with snow-capped Alps acting as a backdrop to row upon row of lavender bushes that stretched as far as the eye could see. While Jil and I were of course desperate to reach the dogs, it was impossible not to stop and step out of Gus the Bus and take in this stunning panorama. From the quiet shores of the French Riviera we were blasted by gusty winds as they swept across the plain.

Leaving this astonishing scene behind us, we then drove down the bumpy stony track, riddled with puddles from Monday’s rain, to Domaine La Belle Terre. Alerted to our arrival, Mme Schonse came out to greet us and there’s no denying the courage and dedication of this Lady. After initial introductions it was time to meet the dachshunds and a sorrier sight could not have met us. Jil has promised to write their story so I shall not disclose too much about them now but suffice to say that, not withstanding their plight and terrible ordeal (they had been dumped on the Friday), it was evident these two little fellows had never been well cared for or nourished properly in their lives. Our hearts went out to them and without a moment’s hesitation, Jil swept them up in her arms and their destiny changed forever.

It seems wrong to applaud an animal rescue centre as many are absolutely awful places yet I can’t help but do so in the case of Mme Schonse. Her sincere concern and love of dogs and cats was all too evident and, as we drove away with Jil’s very special family, her tears flowed unreservedly.

Our journey home was peaceful as Nanette, Mimi and Bertie (as Jil has named them) slept in the back of the car - oblivious to the amazing landscape we were travelling through. Soon we were back in the Provence-Alpes-Cote d’Azur department and the familiar names of St Tropez, Cannes and Nice appeared on the road signs. After helping Jil carry her tiny bundles into her home, I then made the half hour drive to Chateauneuf and home.

It had been a long and quite emotional day. As Archie, Freddy and Maggie May came bounding out to greet me, sniffing around both Gus the Bus and my shoes to discover where I’d been, my thoughts lingered on all the many dogs (and cats) who were still hoping to find their forever home.

A gentle nudge brought me out of my sad reverie: down at my feet was my own little Bertie, his short legs making him a tad slower than the others to welcome me back home. His dark brown eyes found mine and with a big smile on his face and tail wagging nineteen to the dozen he told me he’d found his.