Lost in France? No chance with the top down, air conditioning on and sat nav in our Mazda MX5.

There is, though, the slightly annoying, jarring ‘route re calculation’ when, as needs must, you pop off in a completely different direction than one entered into the machine.

Motoring in early summer on the uncluttered A and B roads in rural Brittany must rank as one of the most pleasurable experiences on four wheels, or two for that matter.

The perfect, smooth roads, which put ours to shame as there is seldom any evidence of a dodgy surface let alone a pot hole, are pure bliss for the unhurried motorist. Some are as straight as an arrow. Others as bendy as a snake and others still as undulating as a fair ground big dipper - fantastic.

And all the more fun when you haven’t a plan.

Although you may have punched a destination into the sat nav, just for fun you follow signs for towns and villages which take your fancy. You stop along the way for scrummy fresh pain and fromage from the epicierie or boulangerie, find an aire (picnic site) under a tree by a river and just let the world drift by until you’re once more on the road expecting the unexpected.

The wonderful historic town of Josselin, home of the mythical chateau perched on cliffs high above the river which is the Rohan family seat, is one such place. We turned a corner and there she was - so we had a tour all conducted in faultless English.

We'd booked a gite through one of the myriad websites offering ideal getaways all over France. It was in the tiny village of Seglien, near to the much bigger and more bustling town of Pontivy. Our village had the air of a deserted wild west frontier town. It must have been quite busy once but as with much of central Brittany many properties lay empty many adorned with the 'A Vendre' estate agent's signs. We seemed to be almost the only people in the town.

We used the well-equipped, converted 200-year-old former agricultural cottage - complete with one double bedroom with bath in it, spiral stair case, balcony and wood-burning stove - as our base from which to explore.

We motored here, we motored there with her off the sat nav seemingly getting increasingly brusque as we more often than not ignored her advice and headed in a completely different direction than one suggested - route recalculation.

All we’d planned when we drove onto the Brittany Ferry at Plymouth for the overnight ‘cruise’ with comfy, port holed cabin, was 10 days of adventure in Brittany.

We bought a map of Finistere and Morbihan on the ferry.

As soon as you’re on Brittany Ferries, you’re in France. The staff greet you in French, the standard of the French self serve food restaurant is exceptionally good, the choice of meals is amazing, and the quality of the ferry and berths is also superb.

Well rested, we slipped off the ferry and into a swirling, stormy, rainy day at Roscoff. Oh merde! Not to worry we had a pleasant trip to Pointe de Pen Hir on the Atlantic coast and got absolutely drenched on the beach in the pouring rain. The off to Quimper to book into a cheap and cheerful hotel before setting off the following day for our gite.

And the rest of the holiday was solid, blistering sunshine!

Trips to Quiberon, from where you can take a ferry to the Belle Ille and where we enjoyed the best ever galette (savoury pancake) was fun, the beach at Port Manech near arty Port Aven got the tan going and Nevez is dreamy.

After the initial downpour, it was top down, shades on and soaking up the sun and some admiring, some quizzical head turns as our red Japanese roadster cruised through the Breton country and to the seaside or markets in off-season splendour.

The seafood, especially the moules (mussels) cooked back at the gite in white wine, garlic, white onion and shallots with chilled Muscadet and fresh bread and gorged in the evening sunshine, was gorgeous. The fromage de chevre from the market with all manner of fresh fruit, local melons and vegetables, was heaven.

The penultimate day saw us swimming in an artificial lake created by the damming of the river at Lac de Guerledan in a cordoned off area away from the water skiers, kayakers and wake boarders. A colourful gaggle of Gallic Hipsters blew up and launched an armada of inflatable swans, unicorns, thrones and the like and proceeded to float into the centre of the lake causing consternation for the lake manager but laughter all round for the rest of us when they became marooned and had to be rescued!

And then it was us barrelling back to St Malo for the return trip on Brittany Ferries using faithful Miss Sat Nav to get us to the port in plenty of time. Aboard we savoured another sensational meal with wine and cheese, took a look around the shops, marvelled at the duty free, caught a bit of a show, decided not to see a film, looked out over the sea in the sunshine at the rear got even more sunburned, read a book, had a nap in the cabin, and then back into the car, top down sat nav set from Portsmouth to the Severn Bridge and back home to Wales after a truly wonderful time in beautiful Brittany.

Route recalculation? You’re dead right as I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re back aboard Brittany Ferries cruising across La Manche to Brittany and once more jousting with her off the sat nav. Bon Journee and au revoir for now.