Driving back through the pyrénées orientales this morning (the weather was dull in Perpignan, and we decided to move westwards in the hope of a little sunshine) we reminisced about a lunch taken several years ago in a little town whose name we could not remember, but which we had remembered with pleasure.

Towards the end of the meal, heavy boots were heard descending from the first floor, and a stream of firemen headed downstairs (from lunch, not a fire) and out of the door.  Fair enough, no-one can deny a fireman his lunch.

Today, we thought that we were on the same road we took at the time of the meal-with-added-firemen episode, but were not certain.  However, bang on 1pm, we drove into the little town of Lavelanet and immediately recognised the town square and the restaurant.

On the basis of the remembered meal we happily made a second visit (although the cassoulet wasn't as good this time as last).  Half-way through the main course there was sudden surge of déjà vu as a dozen firemen (of both sexes) trooped down from the upper floor, followed a few minutes later by around twenty more!

Commenting to the girl who served our meal that Lavelanet seemed very well supplied with firemen, she told us that the town has a teaching facility where young fire(wo)men come for 15 days training.

Lavelanet is one of those nice little French country towns that there is no reason to visit except by accident, but which does a good lunch;  and, of course, if you happen to catch fire, Lavelanet is just the place to be!