On Saturday it was Adrian’s village annual meat-fest, the hunt lunch. It started at midday with aperitifs, followed by the meal proper. I’m learning that these events aren’t geared up for would-be vegetarians at all, anything faintly vegetable-like being hidden beneath a mound of “proper bloke food”, but there were half a dozen green beans to be found in one course and there was an (optional) salad course later on in the meal. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons there were so few women there!

The first course was served at about 1.30, amidst much noisy conversation and general bonhomie; by the time we got to dessert, you could hardly hear yourself think! The rosé was followed by red, followed by champagne, followed by armagnac, in a very convivial atmosphere. We thought we’d escaped at 7pm, but were dragged back in by a very drunk Thomas, wanting to continue practicing his English on us. Adrian denies all responsibility for teaching him the sort of gutter English he’s very proud of! Three of us got away again at 7.30pm, by running for it across the car park, but we had to rescue Nick half an hour later, when we’d loaded up the car to come home.

On our return, I found a newspaper cutting in my emails inbox; a report and photo of the walk I did in the Pyrenees last weekend with the Nogaro walking group. Aaaah, fame at last!! Though why they called us escargots, I have no idea; we weren’t that slow!