French toilets

We were discussing toilets over lunch. How appropriate you say - you weren't eating the food, I say. Anyway, we started by observing how much more lax the French rules about the number and placement of toilets are in comparison to the English, and then started to compare anglo saxon and latin attitudes to the same. See how bored we get. We generally agreed that, the French (and the Italians come to that) aren't as prudish as the English about using the same toilets or toilets with common entrances. I remember trying to use a male toilet on a motorway in Italy which had been sealed off for cleaning. I asked the cleaner where the next one was and she looked at me as if I was stupid and pointed at the Ladies. No one batted an eyelid as I entered to use a cubicle. I entered the toilet feeling that I was invading a private space but of course the problems were all in my head. If no one else minds why should I mind? Interesting.

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The invites are flowing thick and fast at the moment, so we go for a quiet dinner to Jill and Harry. They need to let off steam about their various offspring and their attitude to 'cheap holidays with mum and dad'. We have lots of experience with this and, as is my wont, I let off steam as well. Lots of steam later, we settle down to a nice dinner of salmon and a peaches and cream pudding. Harry pours lots of fizz and even more rosé and a good night was had by all. The next few days are busy with lots of invites so we need to get into training. As if we aren't finely tuned eaters already!