Sad, isn’t it, when a couple of hours in a bar warrants a special mention? But the French, or at least those of my age, don’t really do going out in the evening. Once the sun goes down, the shutters do the same, which can make evenings seem quite long. And for all the effort I’ve made, joining various clubs, I only see the people at those clubs; it seems quite difficult to make proper friends.

Last Tuesday, at painting club, Fabienne said that her group was playing at a bar in Dax on Friday, for St Patrick’s day; it’s an Irish group, she plays cello, her husband and another man are multi talented, playing fiddle, mandolin, banjo, guitar and bagpipes between them.

To me it sounded like the perfect excuse, so I asked if anyone would like to come with me; a lot of navel gazing ensued, so I didn’t push it.

I called Beatrice from the cycle club, but she has choir practice on Fridays, so I tried Jean Claude, another single from the cycle club; yes, he’d love to go.

At painting club today, I mentioned it to Francoise, who only does Fridays; she’d ask her partner and the friend they have staying, but liked the idea.

So five of us turned up for what was a lovely evening, the crowd in the bar was noisy and good humoured, the music was excellent and maybe I’ve reinforced another couple of friendships.