‘Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's’. Alas, for the romantics among us, the silos in Amboise, the Greniers (granaries) de César are in all probability not built by him. Abbot Bosseboeuf (d.1928) from Tours thought the gigantic labyrinth was dug by Caesar but as nothing has yet come to light that he was ever in Amboise, Caesar’s Legionnaires makes more sense.

Walks around Château Gaillard in Amboise are well worth exploring. You never know what’s around the next corner, you certainly don’t expect to stumble across a romantic old wine press with the prestigious stamp Mabille Frères.

When the office of Mayor was created in France seems to have been lost in the mists of time, however, we do know that in 1558 the first mayor of Amboise was Élie Deodeau, Controller of the Queen’s Household, the Queen being Catherine de Medici.

For many visitors, Amboise starts at the station which, despite a few restorations, has changed very little since it was built in 1846. A bridge was built the same year to access the town centre on the opposite side of the river.

The oh so photogenic Château Amboise somehow manages to stir the child within us all. It takes us back to the old days when children read fairy tales about kings and queens, princes and princesses and built models of castles.

Today, 8 August, is World Cat Day. Maisie, the Photograph France Cat, has a personality by pass but like all cats, hugely entertaining because she is unfathomable. Why does she stare fixedly at us? Accusingly. Why will she drink from the red plastic bowl, but not the white china one nand why is her fave tipple dirty rainwater?

Housewives all over the world might be surprised to learn that TCP, a staple of their First Aid cabinets, is made in France, in Vouvray, more known for it’s beautiful wines, twenty minutes from Amboise.

In a dark, sunless, scrubby piece of overgrown waste land at the bottom of the garden, rising high above the nettles is an ancient straggly greengage tree. Apart from the wasps and birds, it is unloved and forgotten but every year, against all odds, it still manages to bear fruit. The ground is covered with windfalls which have chutney written all over them.