Oh I do like to be beside the fountain!

Compiled by Guestblogger! This isn't Geoff talking to you...

After a rather nice lie in I got up and le soleil brille! It was glorious weather. Geoff and I toddled off in the direction of the shops as I needed to make some purchases but as we wandered past L’Enfance de Lard, Michael stuck his head out through the flaps and invited us in for an aperitif. Well……you can guess the rest I’m sure. I was on the rosé again (I do have the taste for it!) and Geoff was on the pastis. Stomachs started to rumble so we wandered across the way to Patrick’s place for some lunch. Three hours later, we were all stuffed. The boys had to go and sort out the restaurant so we hit the shops. Then back to the house, Geoff did some writing and I had a siesta (God, I’m turning into my mother and I had to cheek to moan about G and his slippers!) to prepare myself for the inevitable late night.

We arrived at the restaurant around 9ish to a full house. Had my handbag and gladrags on. Geoff had his manbag. The food was superb and wine very gluggable. Aperitifs of G&T’s were in order. After the other guests had gone, we cranked up the stereo to the delights of Mrs Miller, Nutbush City Limits and Karma Chameleon. We danced around the tables swinging our pants and took lots of photos to evidence this mad evening, some of which are on this blog. More champers materialised and I was talked out of my traditional dip in the fountain.

At some point in the early hours André, Geoff and I staggered back to the house waking up the neighbours, I conked out pretty early on so left the boys to it. I was woken up by a loud bang around 7am but didn’t know what it was so drifted off back into my alcoholic daze. I found out later that André had fallen down the stairs rather the worse for wear after sleeping on the sofa. He’s a bit bruised but no bones broken. I think he must be coming out in sympathy with Fidel Castro according to yesterday’s Guardian!