En France 84

Glorious Gothic excess is never far away, in Fecamp.

The fine - boned fairy-tale tower, of the Benedictine monastery, stands high above the harbour front.

 Lancing theatrically skyward.

Above a playfully intricate masterclass, in the mediaeval stonemasons art.

 Well may those cavalier gargoyles smile, fuelled perhaps by a shot of the famous liqueur : 

For the season has been flexing its mercurial muscles, since Stargazer's arrival. Quick-fire thundery deluges loom. Their stair-rod rain rattles down.

Only for the wind squalls to abate and the black clouds to scurry away.

To be replaced by innocently smiling sunshine. Steaming soaked sightseers dry.