Hoots mon, is that bagpipes I hear?

For some time now a French neighbour, across the valley, has been practicing the bagpipes. With the sun beating down relentlessly from a crystal clear blue sky, it feels strange and so out of place. I associate bagpipes with winter, New Years eve, Burns Night (my birthday), roaming in the gloaming and all that. On balance, I like it, not for any nostalgic reasons, because Scotland, most definitely, does not make me feel nostalgic, it's only the second place on earth that I have experienced racial bigotry, and why is it that Scots always want to go back to Scotland when they retire? How come they like so much rain?

On the contrary, it's because he usually plays pleasant tunes and not for too long. The one I like the most is the German folk tune that inspired Elvis's song 'Wooden Heart'. Mind you, you'd have thought that with such a simple tune, he'd have learnt the bloody thing by now.

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I started to watch the women's final from Roland Garros, this afternoon, and fell asleep watching Mary Pierce making so many unforced errors. She had the whole crowd behind her. It was embarrassing. The only excuse could have been that she was injured but there didn't appear to be any sign of that. It was a very poor final and a great many people will have paid a lot of money to watch it. She should have given her runners up cheque to charity, but somehow I suspect that she didn't!

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Another delicious meal at Les Fourneau de Clelia in Aigremont tonight. We tried to book for tomorrow, my mother's birthday, but they were full. Aubain welcomes you, waits on table and tries very hard to make your meal enjoyable. His mother, second name Clelia, does the cooking. This is our favourite restaurant within a 30 minute drive. Highly recommended.