This is the open market in a little rural village called Genas, outside Lyon. The French have this lovely bread which smells better than oats! The long bread is called a baguette and it is better than a bag of oats too.

Architecture in this part of France is dominated by the clapboards that close over the windows, called shutters. But after the first night here, it is easy to see why they are there - to help keep the cold out! Even with the shutters closed and my woolly jumper, my little toes still nearly curl up.

My favourite cartoon so far.
Grrrrrrr.

These French cats are as quick as the Chinese ones!
Just minding my own business dawdling across the Bellecour Square in central lyon. Is this any way to treat a tourist, especially a mild mannered sheepish one?
Luckily an old friend turned up to narrowly save the day, or actually, to really save my skin.

After the journey up to the top, I had another brush with obscurity!
There I was just sitting on the ledge of the courtyard of the Fourviere Cathedral admiring the view, when a puff of wind came up and tumbled me over the edge. Aaaaaiiiiii! Luckily there was a ledge just three metres below, but it was behind a locked gate with spikes at the top.
I didn't see all of the rescue, but it involved Al's dad going around the cathedral and into the gardens below and scaling some sort of fence...but I was saved! Yay.
(Make note to self to put on some more weight.)

After my narrow escape and being at a church (a cathedral, no less), I thought I had better go and say a few 'Hail Marys.' But I got lost and ended up with some weird looking sheep that spoke Arabic. They looked like they were lost too. All we needed was someone to save us.

Further along the ridge are the remains of a roman theatre. Built entirely of stone, mostly marble, the seats are set in a semi-circular pattern rising away from the stage.
There was a school group there, and this was my chance for 15 seconds of fame! Time for my famous soliloquy.
"To be or not to be a sheep,
That is the question.
The wether has a nobler mind,
But suffers the pain and fury of outrageous indigestion."
But nobody paid any attention! Oh well, back to the drawing board with that one...it will never be famous.

My kind of car. Not only is it white with black points, it looks kinda laid back and sheepish. Just love those cute little headlamps.

But all I am likely to end up with is a bicycle! At least the seat is comfy and I need a rest....

Now the Roman museum was very interesting. Included is this carving of a ram's head. I wonder if he is one of my ancestors? Can you see the family resemblance?

The romans had their own language, called Latin. It looks like they wrote everything in upper case. But who knows what it says?

Ah, I worked out what this one says!

"This is the memorial to me Matiniae I Gento who was a great benefactor with unbounded charisma and is buried here by sacred decree granted by the illustrious...Zzzzz."

No parking problems in France. Buy the snub-nose car (called a Smart Car) and park it sideways!

Nothing like an early morning buck-up of caffeine. Cafe au lait or coca-cola? Tough choice.

Anybody got a straw?

Another lion! But not such a problem this time as he is so old, he doesn't have any teeth left!

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It seems that there was a book written a long time ago that tells the life of Jesus someone or other. Anyway, these big churchy buildings are all about him. He couldn't have been too bad a fellow because we sheep get a mention, and sometimes a mosaic role!

I even get a mention in the bottom of the basilica, which Big Al's dad says is called the crypt and is lined by the church equivalent of an insurance policy.

A pity they can't spell my name properly.

Now this one couldn't grab me in his mouth because it was already occupied, with constant spitting. Clearly he is worried by the presence of a very small lamb on his foot.

Headhunters in the city? Ouch. I can see why they had to chain this guy up!

But luckily he didn't like lamb and spat me out!

I have been remembered! They named a street after me.

They still can't spell!

This little tree in Perouges was planted in 1792! But most of the village was built years before that and it is still standing too.

This is the front gate to Perouges. The wood is centuries old and is rotting away slowly. I tried to collect an entry tax as people came in, but no-one paid me any attention, or any money!

In olden times, they had little doors for cats and dogs and little lambs too! Can you see me?

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I once heard someone say that they knew what they would get for their pains. Well I'm not sure what it is, but I now know where to go to get them!