Laughing Gravy

Well I have to say I was surprised not to be the first person up for once. I nipped out for a baguette and a couple of pain aux raisins and we tucked into breakfast which represented everything except healthy eating. Market day seems to come round very quickly, and picking up André en route we skipped around the stalls which encircle the cathedral. BD bought up half a stall selling preserved foie gras, which he intended to smuggle home in his shoes (which is apparently the tried and tested method).

After all the market pettifogging (24 across last Monday, and a new favourite word for me – sounds like something you’re not allowed to do at a swimming bath) we went for a coffee at the chocolaterie, and then returned to the other market where we selected fine traditional duck paté and cheeses and loaf of the crustiest bread in town. Back indoors we settled down to a generous serving of pastis and fine lunch made up of our market booty.

The sky turned bluish, and the sun came out for a quick shine so we set off for a walk along the Dordogne, walking east and making a circuit using the church spire as our landmark. I picked up a tart for later on. We continued our riverside walk until the sun went down over Bergerac.

Aperitifs at L’Enfance de Lard were cut short slightly prematurely by the early arrival of customers. We returned to the house for a dinner of Toulouse sausages, mashed potatoes rustic style and green beans, with the most extraordinary gravy I have ever made or tasted (revolting), followed by the tart. René and Edith laid on some light entertainment to round off the evening. Bonsoir.