On Sunday I went to Honfleur - a medieval seaside town about 180km west of Paris.

The town itself was stunning with narrow cobbled streets full of romantic looking buildings in a state of glorious decay.

But it was hot - so hot! And the "15 minute" walk to the beach turned out to be only 15 minutes if you happened to walk at 50 miles per hour...

When we finally got there, we found that the sea had gone off on holiday, leaving only burning hot sands and mud stretching as far as the eye could see. The heat was killing and there was no shade.

I found it all a bit too much - especially as we soon ran out of water. But my hostess was in her element.

"I am going to get a tan," she announced and proceeded to roast herself topless.

Remembering my desert training, I curled up into a defensive ball and covered myself completely with a big towel. I then prepared to collect my own urine and waited patiently for a camel. It was pure textbook stuff.

The drive to Honfleur was also very interesting. The French countryside was glorious on that hot, sunny afternoon. Most of the houses were thatched with shutters and there were bright flowers everywhere.

We drove through a lovely forest. I noticed a plastic carrier bag tied to a stick by a nice little secluded path that led off into the trees. A short distance down this idyllic trail, but still visible from the road, a young woman was waiting.

I thought nothing of it at first - perhaps she was writing poetry or maybe starting to think about it. But as we drove on, I began to notice more plastic bags on sticks, indicating more secluded trails and more scantily dressed women lying in wait.

It began to feel like something out of the Odyssey. Fortunately, my hostess was driving and I was not rowing so there was no need to fill my ears with wax or bid my men bind me to the mast.

Another lucky escape then.