Non-headless chicken

Rich and Andi had to set off for Bordeaux airport for their flight back to Geneva at ten. Just before midday André’s mum collected me in her car to have lunch at her house with André. It was the first time I have seen a chicken placed on the table with the head intact – call me old fashioned but I found this a little off-putting, especially when André’s mum started picking out the brains with a fork. This came a close second to the bone-marrow blowing incident. André’s brother, Didier, dropped me home and I spent a contemplative afternoon and evening sorting myself out. This was the first time I had been alone since the accident, and I seemed to be OK.