Bastille Day

It was Bastille Day yesterday, which of course means a French national holiday, trading in the streets, pomp and ceremony at the 'Monument des Morts', the second largest firework display in France (after Paris) and a thumping DJ late into the night. Something for everyone I guess.

The day itself was relatively quiet - in fact it seemed to be quieter than a usual Sunday, which was a bit strange. There was a fairly low key farmers market, where we bought a huge sausage sandwich as breakfast and three bottles of 'Carthagene', a local aperitif - but it was a bit early in the morning for wine tasting (even for me!) so we said we would come back but we never did.

So we wandered down the main shopping street and bought shoes. Well, Sandra didn't buy any because they didn't have her size in the ones she liked and I spent €14 on some summer knockabouts and Debrah bought three pairs - plus ca change.

After a lovely dinner on Sunday evening, which both sets of guests seemed to thoroughly enjoy, we had to plan a pre-firework supper. It was meant to be a barbecue down at Patrick's house before viewing the fireworks from his terrace - but he seemed too pre-occupied with the bar build and a little freaked about having to provide food for our two vegetarian guests, despite me assuring him that we would have all that taken of. So we decided to eat at home first and then wander on down there about an hour before the kick-off.

To spice things up, we did a wine tasting - compare and contrast three reds from different wine regions within the area - which was a lot of fun. I cracked my usual joke about 25 years of research before I realised I couldn't drink Bordeaux reds because the Cabernet Sauvignon grape gives me indigestion and everybody laughed except Debrah, who stifled a yawn.

That's not fair really, because Debrah has been joining in everything despite feeling really grotty with a horrible summer cold that she bought with her from The UK last Saturday. It's probably not a summer cold because I hear it is still winter in the UK!

I didn't get to see the pomp and ceremony at the statue to the dead but I know it happened - some speeches, a few medals, a lot of bowing and handshakes, an enormous amount of kissing and a band all trying to play in time and in tune - even the same tune - but failing.

The fireworks were as spectacular as they always are and my guests thoroughly appreciated the private viewing platform rather than slumming it in the street with the half million visitors that annually attend the event. I have seen it four times now and it didn't have the same impact as before despite being every bit as fabulous - I don't think you can replace the first time that you see it because it just blows your mind - every first timer yesterday said it was the best firework display they had ever seen (including Hong Kong handover, Millenium etc)

None of us stayed long after the event and I don't think any of us lingered in the square where the DJ was in full swing as we passed through on the way home. We are just far enough away not to have been kept awake by it (Chris said the windows were rattling in their frames, in his apartment overlooking the square, until after 2am) which is just as well as I had to be up at 6.30am this morning to give guests a lift to the station for an early train.

After a bit of fun and festivity at the weekend, it was back to room chnages and washing and cleaning today, with a new set of Irish arriving mid-afternoon. Debrah and Sandra have swanned off to the coast and then the mountains to see Nick and Chris down at Argeles and Ceret - lucky devils.

Oh, to be so laissez-faire now and again.