You get your bread where?

When I arrived back yesterday, Chris was at the airport with the Audi to collect me and promptly announced that we were having lunch in the square with Gary and Patrick - what a lovely welcome back - the sun was out but a bit hazy, the bavette and frites at Felix was as good as ever and a bargain as ever at €7.

It appears that during my two days away 'the boys' had been socialising a bit without me - the nerve. On Tuesday evening they had a barbecue on Patrick's terrace with it's fabulous uninterrupted views of the Cite - it's nice, believe me.

There is something about France that changes people, though - they told me that they had spent a good twenty minutes discussing which boulangerie was best for which bread before they realised they should be talking about rugby or Angelina Jolie (or in Gary's case, Brad Pitt) ...Of course, there are probably 20 boulangeries in the bastide town all baking their own bread and this is just a small town - in England you would have a choice of one and therefore no choice at all. Actually, they were right - I would buy my baguettes, pain cereales, campaillou, mini viennoiserie, pain complet or pain au figues at different places because they are all better at one thing than everyone else, almost as if they had agreed between them in a very French socialist sort of a way that they could all have one speciality on which the others wouldn't compete with them. Still, I can't imagine the boys down the pub in England having a similar conversation - best kebab shop, maybe.

This morning, Chris and I went down to the market, shopping bags in hand, to buy fruit and vegetables. I couldn't have written a more gay sentence if I was trying to write a gay novel. It was as far removed from gay as could be, I assure you - but there weren't any decent strawberries to be had.

I collected the new guests from the airport in the drizzle that they must have brought with them from Manchester - poor things - it was a miserable day here, with relentless rain and a cold gusty wind - not what you come to the Languedoc for. Thankfully, they seemed completely at ease and at home with it all. Of course, this evening the clouds rolled away and the moon shone brightly and the temperature dropped and the radiators were turned on and the power went off - I really must sort that problem out.