What day is it?

We take Max for training this morning, and what a job it still is to get him into the car. It takes two of us to lift him. As soon as he knows what's happening, he sits down and braces his front paws against the ground. As we lift him, he spreads his legs out wide to avoid being bundled in. I'd love to call him a little sod, but at 40 kilos he's hardly little! Anyway, he loves it when he gets there. He is a popular dog and at one point three rather attractive young women called him, he dragged me over, and they made a big fuss of him. I was quite jealous, but I secretly suspect that making a fuss of Max was just a ruse to get me to talk to them. What do you think? (I think you need to take a reality check - Ed.)

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It's Saturday, so it must be Sommieres. On the way there, mum trips over a kerb and falls into what must be the only puddle for 50 kilometers. What chance that then? So with hurt pride and a grazed knee, we walk mum, literally half covered in mud, around the market.
Half of us enjoy oysters (not me bruv) so we buy a couple of dozen for lunch. They cost a princely 6 euros 80 cents. Even Ben, (Jan's No 1 who lives in Barcelona) who always compares prices between Spain and France, can't complain about that.
Amongst others, we meet property tycoon and owner of this website, Peter Hornby, who as usual, does not offer to buy me a drink. I live in hope.

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Dinner tonight started with arroz negro, a seafood risotto coloured by squid ink, which was cooked by Paula, followed by Jan's famous barbecued ribs. Two of my favourite dishes. Yummy. This was all washed down with copious quantities of Vermentino and Rose from our current favourite domain, Costeplane.