At the western edge of the sprawling French departement of Var lies Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume, a town I have long meant to visit without ever quite getting round to it.
The name has lived in the consciousness throughout Monsieur and Madame Salut's 20-odd years in this part of France.
There was the time when snow blocking the nearby A8 motorway proved the last straw as I, spending a November week alone in Le Lavandou, rang home with a weather update ahead of Mme Salut flying out at the weekend.
We'd already had an earthquake, with an epicentre off the coast at Nice and mostly unfelt this far west, hailstones and fog. I telephoned after driving through torrential rain for an evening's badminton in Pierrdefeu. "I think I'll stay in London," said the voice on the other end of the line.
Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume, 45km from Aix-en-Provence, is named after Maximinus, reputedly the first bishop of Aix in the 1st century. He was one of the 72 disciples of Jesus and, with Mary Magdelene, "Apostle to the Apostles", began the evangelisation of Aix. The splendid basilica of Saint-Maximin bears Mary's name.
A little goes a long way for me when it comes to places of worship. But I can admire magnificent buildings, inside and out, even if I would not care to spend more than half an hour doing so.
I imagine some readers seeing my headline and disputing my suggestion it is off the beaten track. The town is, after all, just three minutes off the motorway. But it was off my beaten track until the dental appointment was arranged.
It may be that 81km is a long way for Mme Salut to go to have her teeth fixed. The reason is complicated and not very interesting, so please just accept it was as necessary as my own three trips down to Wimborne Minster from London for similar purposes earlier this year.
On first impressions, there isn't much to the town, Saint-Maximin I mean, not Wimborne (pleasant enough Dorset market town but my view is coloured by the long trek I had to make on foot after using a local bus service from Poole on one of my visits).
But I like it (Saint-Maximin, that is). The main square has bars and restaurants dotted around it and in one I located my preferred French comfort food, andouillettes. In fact, it was one andouillette, sliced in two with peppers and onions spread on top of each. Very tasty, if a little on the nouvelle cuisinish size (a very small bowl of chips as accompaniment) but, with Mme Salut's menu du jour, featuring a chunky piece of pork - rather nice but is pork meant, ever, to be pink? - and a quarter-litre carafe each, rouge pour monsieur and rose pour madame, and coffees, €50 seemed a decent price.
Will I return? Yes, if only because the delightful owner of the Shark boutique allowed me to take away a paperback of Papa Hemingway, A E Hotchner's memoir of his friendship with Ernest Hemingway. The book was among several by or about Hemingway on shelves the shopkeeper obviously keeps for "husbands of".
There is also a follow-up dental appointment. The teeth have a greater chance of holding out - or, rather, staying in - than the pages of the 1979 paperback.
* I may have to buy another copy of Papa Hemingway. The Salut! Amazaon link is http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0306814277/salusund-21
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