The truck driver and his mates

Broken fingernails, calloused hands, aching back and dirty shoes - that's what you get if you stay in Bergerac too long. I got up with the snark and got myself ready for early morning collection in a filthy great open-back truck - my life is so glamorous. Clambering up on to the front seat and clutching a tart (yes, really - but of the flan variety) we rattled off to a beautiful chateau set in vineyards near Pomport. Bizarrely, there was a car museum there, and we peered through a window to catch sight of Al Capone's car which the French chateau owner had bought in Chicago - it looked a bit of wreck. We were here to collect another load of vine roots for the restaurant, and after locating them at the end of a muddy track, and some nifty reversing by Michael, we began clambering on top of a huge pile of wood and flinging the soggy lumps into the back of the truck. It was quite an operation. Once the back of the truck was full, we drove to André's mother's house where we transported the load to the back garden in wheelbarrows.

We were due to repeat the operation, but we were forced to break for aperitifs and lunch. Dejeuner consisted of pot au feu. We started off with soup (the liquid from the pot au feu) followed by beef and veal meat, potatoes, carrots, turnips and leeks served with plenty of mustard and gherkins. It was very tasty. André's mother appeared from the kitchen holding a huge bone, the kind of thing you would normally give to a dog, and I thought,'Oh my God what are we going to have to do with this?' as she began to pick out the slimy marrow with a fork. She then proceeded to blow down one end of the bone and the entire jelly-like content landed in her dish with a splat, like the result of a productive sneeze. I thought I was going to be sick, but to my great relief the resulting slime was not passed around the table and she tucked in to it quite happily by herself.

The abundance of red wine at lunch made the afternoon's chore much more bearable, and we were soon back with another lorry-load of vine roots. We then cleared a load of branches from the garden and put it in the truck, returned to Bergerac and collected dozens of empty bottles from the restaurant and went sightseeing and bottle-slinging at the municipal dump, before returning home.

This evening I had visitors from Lot-et-Garonne and L'Enfance de Lard, and a fine time was enjoyed. Now I'm the one who needs to go to the bottle bank with a truck!