Life in the Languedoc

You've probably all guessed by now that my life is one long holiday. Drawn out day's spent soaking up the sunshine by the delicious pool and breathing in the pure honeyed air whilst listening to the frantic buzzing of the bees and sweet birdsong. Sometimes I wonder how I find the strength to pull a cork I really do.

My current guests are the most delightful bunch of American ladies. It's difficult to refuse a handmade chocolate from Toulouse and it would be rude not to join in, when invited, a fascinating conversation of how different our lives are. I don't know who is enjoying whose company the most.

They were utterly intrigued as to why I had a basket full of snails hanging on a door. I explained that whilst I was gardening I had somehow unwittingly turned into hunter/gatherer for the neighbours and that the snails were to eat. The screams of horror emanated around the normally quiet village. Like I said, we are having so much fun together.

I'm beautifully poised as usual and awaiting the arrival of a man coming to fit two fire extinguishers. French regulations see, and we wouldn't want to not toe the line when French bureaucracy is involved would we ? more than my life is worth. They say the guillotine is a thing of the past but I wouldn't trust them not to produce a piece of paper saying that I am the only person left in the entire world who is not exempt so I'm keeping my wits about me. Only actually I'm a tad concerned that officialdom will decree that they must hang in an entirely inappropriate place and be aesthetically displeasing to the eye. Will the man try and bore an ugly hole in my treasured and restored wooden panelling in the hallways and what will happen when I protest ?

Will I retain my composure and argue in an elegant and reasoned fashion or will I resort to type and argue that they are being downright dumb and insensitive ?

And if it all goes horribly pear shaped what on earth would I wear as an Englishwoman destined to the guillotine for you would all be treated I'm sure to a full page spread in The Daily Mail of yours truly. And as the drums roll and I'm led away burning with shame what will I cry out in defiance ?

I can't tell you. It would cause a revolution.