It’s filling out nicely. We are meeting Michel, the keeper of the local bar, in just a few minutes to go have dinner at his daughter’s restaurant in a nearby village. at least I think that’s the plan — he speaks no English and my French is dreadfully inadequate. Tomorrow we’re lunching at the home of a lovely British couple who’ve lived here for 20 years.
Have to run – a pastis with my name on it is waiting at Chez Michel.