Mmm, nice!

I woke up to the persistent pitter-patter of rain against the window, and I decided that I wasn’t going any further than my writing desk this morning.

Later on, the rain stopped, the clouds cracked apart and the sun came out, so I took a stroll down to the bottle bank (yes, just the one journey thank you) and then walked along the banks of the Dordogne before making a circuit back into town. Back home I decided it was time to take stock of where I am at with all this writing, so I now have it broken down into fifteen chapters – with a foreword and an afterword! Hurrah. It’s taking shape – although I feel the gestation period may be a little longer than I had anticipated.

When you get invited to dine at L’Enfance de Lard twice in one week, you begin to wonder when you are going to wake up. You have to pinch yourself, because nobody else will.

It was jazz night, and the full drum kit, double bass and electric piano took up about a third of the restaurant. All tables were full, and the music was fantastic – what talented guys they were – creating a unique atmosphere – you just had to be there to know what a wonderful evening this was. Incroiable – I felt very privileged to be there. You could pay a fortune to get this sort of thing in London, and it wouldn’t be a patch on what was going on in that little French restaurant last night. It goes without saying that the food was equally sensational – smoked salmon and endives to start, oven-roasted breast of duck in orange sauce with potatoes dauphinoise for main, and crème brulée tart to finish, served with lashings of Beaujolais Nouveau (which is actually not at all bad this year - definitely bananas) and Monbazillac. The music continued until the wee small hours, and so did we. Sensational. Unforgettable. Magical.

I shared a table with three very lovely English people. Imagine my surprise to discover the person on my right was called Trevor Snelling!