Marseillan is by far the biggest, most glamorous port we’ve visited so far, thronged with French and international tourists and lined with bars and restaurants. Best of all, we met up with new friends and made some even newer ones.

Day 1

This feels like the South of France! And yet we almost gave it a miss, turned around and left straight for the Canal du Midi. I’m so glad we didn’t.

Knowing it was a popular spot, Roy got me to phone the capitainerie a couple of days in advance, but they refused to book a spot for us for those particular nights – first come, first served, they said. (I think.) After a bit of plaintive whimpering on my part (in French), however, they took our  name. (Or I think they did.)

And when we arrived around 9.30am – too early, really, as boats overnighting on the main quai hadn’t yet started to leave – I called again and they told us to wait outside the port for someone to depart.

That did happen quite soon, and with the help of Stuart and Christine Barry on fellow-Piper boat Hilda May, who called us on the VHF radio (first time we’ve used it in this way: very useful!), we were properly moored up by noon, if fractious, tetchy, grumpy and over-tired. (I, too, was a little weary.)

Stuart and Christine joined us for drinks, then we trekked across to the other side of the port for a convivial dinner at Le Château du Port (see the slideshow below) – Étang du Thau oysters and then gambas for me; oysters and dorade on sauce provençale for Roy; crème brûlées all round.

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Day 2

It being far too hot even to contemplate wielding a tin-opener, we lunched on delicious seafood gratiné in blessed air-conditioning at La Taverne du Port. (Thanks for the recommendation, Simon and Andrea Piper!)

We caught the daily 3pm English tour of Noilly Prat, conveniently located right here at the port of Marseillan. It’s a sizeable operation, originally established in this location in the 1850s by one Monsieur Noilly, a herbalist.

Noilly Prat (yes, you do pronounce the “t”) is, of course, the wine-based, herb-flavoured apéritif that’s made here and only here. I’ve never had much of an opinion of the stuff, but now I’m a staunch convert. Only around 16-percent proof – not much more than a red wine – it’s great over ice, or with a spritz of soda, Perrier or Badoit.

The enormous vats (above) were assembled inside the cellar, as they would have been too big to come through the door.

It was fine in the interior coolth, but then we had to follow our sweet guide outdoors to see and be told about the vats baking in the insufferable heat, cooled every three hours by judiciously placed jets of water. They stay here for some months until the angels have had their share.

After the tasting session, you can buy your favourite/s of the four varieties – Original, Extra Dry (good in martinis), Ambre and Rouge.

Buying a case of four entitles you to a cocktail at the bar, so we had the Marseillan – equal parts of the Original and the Rouge with twists of lemon and orange, and a bourbon-based Rob Roy.

Moored behind us on Eos were Nicole and Marc, who invited us for drinks. Also there were South African Shelley and her friend Ray, plus Kiwis Cilla and Aaron (Valentine) whom we met in Lyon.

As the sky gradually darkened and it became fractionally cooler, a live band played 60s and 70s standards from Le Château du Port across the water from us.

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Day 3

Another scorcher, and we decided to stay for a third night. We’d heard that if you paid for two nights mooring (at an eye-watering €58 a night) you’d get a third night thrown in.

Along from the port is a pleasant beach bar where a bunch of kids were having a go on the water-ski zipline.

Today was a good opportunity to head around to the opposite side of the port to stock up on wines at the Richemer wine cave.

After a swift tasting, we returned to Karanja with a chariot bearing a case of red, a case of white, a case of rosé and a case of méthode traditionelle – plus another two bottles of award-winning viognier thrown in by the generous Maxim, together with some Gallic groceries.

Shagged out after a long squawk, and melting in the heat, we gave in to the siren call of the air-conditioning in the bedroom and languished there for a couple of hours before dinner at Chez Philippe.

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And what a dinner! From the €28 formule, I chose the duo of foie gras (one of the two ways being crème brûlée) served with citrus jelly and berry compôte, and Roy fresh oysters from l’Étang de Thau; then a whole dorade with thyme jus for me, and for Roy the pintade (guinea fowl), both of which came with baked potato and ratatouille (the latter being par for the course in this part of the country); and finally, a sweet-to-the-gills lemon meringue pie for me and an impeccable apple tarte tatin for him. Including a bottle of local rosé, a couple of coffees and complimentary limoncellos, the whole delicious feast cost €88.