along forest paths and quiet lanes and after a mile or two led us into a field where we were amazed to find a small knot of people waiting for us. They dished out aperitifs and short wooden skewers with tomatoes and salami speared on them.

From here we had to decide whether to carry on along the shorter route or branch off, following the arrow chalked onto the tarmac of the lane, and take the longer, seven mile route. It was a perfect evening; the warm, mellow conclusion to a hot day and not one of us was in the mood to hurry home. We followed the arrow, turned off the lane to walk along the edges of fields, skirting lakes and weaving between the old stone barns and houses in a tiny, picturesque hamlet.

By now it was almost dark. Our eyes had adjusted as the light diminished, we could still just about make out the route markers and there were plenty of people to follow. It was midnight by the time we got back to the village square and the party was in full swing. The local bar was packed. A mobile disco with crackling speakers and lights that flashed with the beat of the music was blaring out cheesy europop. There were flasks of coffee, trays of iced eclairs for pudding, sticky fingered children dancing and chasing each other around the fountain.

As much as I treasure my solitary walks, walking in a crowd can be an equally illuminating, often transcendental experience. Rebecca Solnit observes

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