Wild leeks

Yeah so last night, I popped across to L’Enfance de Lard for a small large one or two, and met the lovely crowd who were dining there. I felt quite deflated walking away from what certainly promised to be a lively night. Mister M, you have absolutely no idea what you missed out on! Not that I’m bitter and twisted.

I came home and opened a bottle of Pecharmant wine to console myself, and did a little more writing until my vision became impaired. I cooked myself a canard au cassoulet with a teetering pile of buttered carrots and peas and settled down to watch the film Iris. Utterly brilliant and tremendously moving – but, I know it’s a cliché but I have to say it, not a patch on the book. And there were some real deviations going on which were clearly only added to tug even harder at your heartstrings than was strictly necessary. If you haven’t already, then do read the book (Iris by John Bayley), it is stunningly beautiful.

I am now reading Shampoo Planet by Douglas Coupland. After reading Eleanor Rigby (another recommendation from John, my culture secretary) I want to read all of Doug’s books. I’ll let you know how I get on in due course.

Back to today which was what? Saturday. I took myself off to the market just for the sheer experience of it all. I didn’t actually need anything and so I didn’t buy anything, but I enjoyed looking over all the stalls piled high with fresh fruits and vegetables, meats, eggs and cheeses, honey and preserves, truffles and suspect looking bottles with homemade labels. The heady scent of apples wafted through the air, and it reminded me of my grandparents garage which was always piled high with windfalls through the winter, guarded with snapping mousetraps. The faces on some of the stallholders tell a thousand stories. They are some of the craggiest features I have ever seen. Calloused hands, women with huge hairy warts and headscarves; clearly people of the land. If you were a photographer and had the nerve to ask these people if you could take their picture, there is an exhibition for you right there in Bergerac market – I am not joking! I would go and see it. Come on Sam Taylor Wood – it’s a challenge!

Back indoors I dined on a scrambly egg brunch with a two day old copy of The Guardian and read all about Ken Livingstone’s involvement with Capita and Associated Newspapers. Oh it all happens dunnit! Anything to challenge the appalling Metro and the abysmal Evening Standard (both full of right wing tosh aimed at soft-brained commuters who inhabit the suburbs and home counties who neither live in nor go out in London and like nothing more than to tut over the depravity of it all) is a step in the right direction in my book. For far too long have they reigned unchallenged by an intelligent publication. Ooh, a little bit of politics! Somebody stop me! Look, it's my blogsite. I can say what I like.

I spent the early afternoon at my laptop, but outside it was sunny and warmish, so I took my notebooks with me and strolled along the banks of the Dordogne until I found a seat in the sun and there I sat and scribbled for three solid hours whilst the world and his husband walked past with their camp little dogs in tow. The sun started to set and I started to shiver, so I walked back along the river past the rowing clubhouse where they were hauling their boats out of the water. It was my intention to say something amusing about the cox, who was challenged in the vertical department, but I can’t think of anything.

A long soak in the tub then drinks in the kitchen of L’Enfance de Lard and home for a dinner of pan-fried scallops on a bed of beetroot purée with wild leeks. Well, it will make a change from beans on toast. By the way, thanks for visiting. Catch you tomorrow? If you want to talk back to me just click that little comments things below - I love hearing from you. Did that sound a bit desperate? Yesterday I caught myself singing a Boomtown Rats song in the bathroom mirror (there's someone lookin' at you ah oh ah oh), and last night I dreamt I couldn't stand upright on a London Underground escalator. They must have taken my marbles away!