Shopaholic from the South of France

My Angel has appeared in the shape of Wise Owl who seeing my predicament and sensing my raising despair has come to the rescue. Armed firmly with a notepad, obviously. In case you are puzzled Easter sees the first influx of large groups of visitors to Le Chateau, all rooms laid bare to the scrutinizing eye of the discerning holiday maker, and that of the Inspector of the Guide I really really would like to get into, if possible.

Yesterday visited my favourite Brocante (second hand shop with antique shop prices). It takes us along the most spectacular route.. From our landscape of rows and rows of vines this gentle undulating rolling countryside soothes you in a different way. Soft toffee coloured cows are dotted in the rich pasture and fields of wheat and sunflowers flourish in the open spaces. We approach the small town whose square boasts beautiful medieval arches cheekily interspersed with gargoyles leering down at the tourists beneath. No time to stop and linger today, we are on a mission. Pulling up outside I notice that the absolutely gorgeous ornate antique ironwork is still displayed for sale. This is difficult to resist as are the piles of embossed linen prettily tied up with red ribbon. Exactly how many linen sheets does one need ?

In less than an hour we were done and dusted with His Lordship mightily pleased with this painless shopping experience. Quick swipe of the plastic and we were off followed not long afterwards by a man in a van delivering the whole lot that very same day. Not only had we saved valuable time, wear and tear on my patience and sanity but practised what I preached about the ethics of recyling. Gold star for moi then wouldn't you say ?

Except that I still find myself this morning facing a visit to the large blue and yellow cavernous warehouse just off the motorway where I know that I am going to be swallowed up for at least three hours and succumb to a lunch of Swedish meatballs