Kids on the fire and logs in the tree

Christmas Eve in France, I ask you. Who’d’ve thought it could happen to me? Well, after yesterday’s shenanigans I felt ever such a little bit world weary, so I set off on a long walk to clear out my passages. I headed off up through town and then walked in an arc until I met the Dordogne - we exchanged pleasantries of the season - then I continued along the river to the weir and back home again. It was mild out, and I worked up a bit of a sweat. That’s the weir in the picture you see. Well, no it’s not very Christmassy but it’s all I took today so you’ll just have to make do. If I had a picture of someone wearing a paper crown face down in their goose platter then I’d put it up, but I don’t and that’s that. Subject closed. Period.

I actually managed to get along quite well with some writing this afternoon, but by seven I called it a day and got ready for our evening out at L’Enfance de Lard. It was fully booked – so it was just as well I had booked – and we dined on scallops, French onion soup, duck consommé with foie gras, deep fried camembert, goose and steak with potatoes dauphinoise and chocolate bavarois gateaux. Just a snack. Drop of red, splash of Monbazillac and a smidge of champers all helped give it a push in the right direction. Good job I had that front door widened.