At the eleventh hour

Today is Armistice Day and a national holiday in France. Jan and I, representing the English inhabitants, joined about 27 others from the village and, after a short parade (amble) from the Marie to the war memorial, William (right), resplendent in his mayoral sash, said a few words. After two minutes silence, during which a boy on an extremely loud motorbike rode past, he read out a letter from a French Government Minister. I can't say that I understood much of the message but I heard mention of Liberté, Egalité and Fraternité and obviously respect for those that gave their lives in both World Wars. The deputy mayor then read out a letter from the head of the French war veteran's association and I understood even less. Later, when we looked at the war memorial, and the roll of honour for the first war, there were 17 names inscribed, which was a rather large number for a village that, at that time, can't have exceeded much more than 100 souls.

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I received an email last night from Meteo Consult, the company I use for weather forecasts. They said that this weekend, starting Saturday, there would be heavy rain and storms. Wasn't that kind of them?

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Tonight, I barbecued sardines and pork chops for dinner. When I thought of doing this in the middle of the afternoon it was sunny and warm, and seemed like a good idea. By the time I got round to doing it at 19.00 it was dark and very cold. Hey ho, they still tasted good.