Walking in the Languedoc

I tried to take advantage of the extra hour in bed this morning but lay there instead wondering if I should get up. Hopeless.

His Lordship insisted that we go for a long walk as the house was full of guests and I had been pretty busy all week. We strode off down towards the cemetery. Whatever the circumstances or weather His Lordship cannot resist making the remark that there are lots of people underground who would rather be above. Nearly as bad as the impossibly irritating remark that 'however young a prune may be it's always black and wrinkled'. You can now understand why we need a large house, some days I am simply impossible to locate.

However we had the glorious open paths to ourselves. I wonder if this is because Sunday mornings La Chasse (the guns) are out prowling through the vines and woodland. Every year there are a number of fatalities, mainly Grandmothers who would be well advised to stay indoors instead of searching for mushrooms for the family lunch. The colours were stunning and as the mists began to burn off the sun started to push out some serious heat. Taking a quick spin with the roof off the ancient VW golf we availed ourselves of a bottle of Vin Primeur des Côtes de Prouilhe, the most delicious local early pressing of chardonnay grapes. It just oozed crushed strawberries but one of the downfalls of the equinoxe wines is they must be drunk before Christmas !!

The Small Cross One departs for England tomorrow. Sleepily acknowledging that a wardrobe would need to be assembled from my position on the sunbed clad in my swimsuit we have a slight altercation. 'You'll need your winter coat' I advise.

It falls on deaf ears.