Sommieres

To celebrate a birthday, we all went out to Le Fourneau de Clelia, in Aigremont last night. The meal was, as usual, superb. This is the best restaurant within 30 minutes of us. Highly recommended.

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Sommieres got a double hit today. This morning, to show our visitors the market and eat cheap oysters, and again during the evening to let them see an abrivado, eat out and then watch the 14th July fireworks. The bulls were a bit tame, there were one or two hairy moments which everyone enjoyed but the restaurant was poor. We paid 28 euros for a poor choice three course meal which everyone compared to the 33 euros, fantastic meal the night before.

These guys then continue drinking and laughing until 3.30 in the morning. Not for me though, I know I'm getting old and I like my sleep and, more to the point, have to get up early for the bread and croissants.

Pictures, from the top, the gardians parading before the bulls were released, AJ receiving the order of the prawn (don't ask) and AJ and I at the end of a boozy dinner.

Time out

I'm embarrassed to say that we put out 17 empty wine bottles this morning. This is a group that likes to party. Thank goodness they've all gone out for the day. It gives us a chance to recover and catch up with a few jobs. Having said that, last night was a really good laugh.

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Needing to transfer 160 euros to an Italian company, my bank wanted written instructions, which is understandable, but also a copy of my passport. Who makes up these stupid rules? That small amount of money could hardly be called money laundering.

Party time

My old friend and very funny man, 'AJ', arrived today with some of his family. I know what's coming and I get tired just thinking about it. It's going to be one non-stop party. I hope we can keep up.

Restaurants in Nîmes

We had been asked by friends to recommend a restaurant for dinner with them in Nîmes. We naturally took this request very seriously because we are going to eat the food, so we decided to do some research. After an hour on the Internet we came up with a list of six places to investigate. Off to Nîmes we went. The first place, we eventually found, had been closed two years. Great! Another didn't reopen until 25 July after their hols (doesn't it make more commercial sense to close in the off season?) and we didn't relish the thought of three others. So Restaurant L'Antigone, 36 rue Fesque, it was. They have a little outside courtyard and, as luck would have it, we grabbed the last table in the place. It has only been open a month and a half, so they were trying extra hard and the portions were huge. To start Jan had ravioli stuffed with foie gras together with girolles mushrooms and citronelle. I had scallops with a fig jam. Excellent. We both had fish for main course. I expected dorade fillets en papillotte and actually got a whole fish. I can't imagine that they'll keep that up, but you never know. By this time I was quite full but was then faced with an enormous chocolate pudding about 9 inches high, which frankly put me off a bit. It was very elaborate and somewhat unnecessary but if you are a pudding fan then you'd have loved it. This was washed down with one of my favourite roses, Domaine Henry 2005. The bill came to 88 euros, so not cheap, but very good nonetheless. Recommended.

I need to lie down

Two major shocks within 12 hours, but happily I survived them both. First, my son James called last night at midnight. Now I don't know about you but phone calls at midnight are not usually good news. Either someone is in trouble and they need help or someone is drunk and they need a smack in the mouth. It was the former. James had been talking to my mother on the phone, they got cut off and James feared that something had happened to her. Needless to say we both tried to call her back but the call diverted straight to the BT answering service indicating that the phone was 'off the hook'. To cut a long story short we managed to get hold of her at 10.30 local this morning and explained that we had been fearing the worst. Don't you just hate it when people say, "Sorreeeee," in that whiny way, indicating that they don't really mean it?

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The second shock came this morning. There I was reading this and stumbled across a description of making 'spaghetti alla carbonara' with peas. Well, I nearly fell off my perch and banged my head. What an awful mistake As any fule no the ingredients for a carbonara sauce contains only eggs, parmesan and pancetta. What's the world coming to? Get a grip woman, and you a trainer as well. Goodness knows what information you fed those poor mutts?

A conspiracy theory down the drain

And there I was thinking that tall long legged blonds were taking over. Maybe I'm not too smart when it comes to conspiracy theories? Well done Venus, the best player won!

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Jill and Harry came round for dinner last night and Jan excelled herself. We started with a fig, parma ham and mozzarella salad with a lemon and honey dressing followed by a seafood ragout with black pasta. Cheese and an upside down apricot cake rounded it off. At ten to nine the following morning, Jan reminded me that Jacquo, from next door, was coming to borrow the lawn mower. It's just as well that she said something because I'd still be in bed and he'd still be knocking on the door!

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I must admit that I didn't want to go, but, at 12.30 we headed for lunch in the village to Alain and Christianne's. This was the third day on the trot that we were meeting with friends and I'd just about had enough. OK, Alain is the village artist (both piss and paint) but she is an excellent cook and he always produces very drinkable local wines. As Jan said afterwards, the invitees were our favourite village people, plus some of their delightful family. Twelve of us in all. Aperos consisting of home made tapenade, peperonata and taramasalata, under the trees outside and then into his studio to munch on baby squid in a tomato sauce, lamb and an excellent ratatouille, cheese and a uncooked chocolate refrigerated cake. We finally got away at 7.00 pm, which isn't bad for a 'lunch'. In all our time in England, which was considerable, we have never had a meal with a mayor, an artist, a landscaper, and a Parisian leather technician (he repairs leather opera costumes - belts and shoes).

Whilst all this was going on I missed the men's singles final from Wimbledon and the Grand Prix from Silverstone. Before we went I said to Jan that we should get away by 2.30 pm and, you know what, we so enjoyed ourselves I didn't miss either event all. The sporting events will come round again but lunch with such good company was very special. We feel so privileged to be invited to a French only gathering and had a wonderful time with lovely people.

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Having only just finished eating, neither of us were very hungry when we got back so Jan made a salad for dinner. A watermelon, feta and black olive salad. Sounds horrible but tastes great. Highly recommended.

Hot, hot, hot

Out for dinner at Bryan and Gills last night. As usual the meal was excellent, with filo parcels of goat and feta cheese with onion, to start, followed by barbecued meats. Then for pudding a very unusual, but excellent, melon and lime soup. Thanks guys.

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I used to know the Marketing Director of the London Rubber Company, the then makers of Durex condoms. When I saw this article it made me laugh because it was just the kind of wheeze that he would come up with. Having said all that, I have to say that I hate the bloody things. "It's like eating a sweet with the wrapper on," as someone once said.

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It hit 34C in the shade this afternoon. I like it warm but this is pushing it a bit. Having said that it is a very dry heat so not too debilitating and with a similar temperature forecast for tomorrow the pool is starting to look very inviting.

Talking about the pool, the water temperature hit 30C this evening so I suppose I'd better turn the heating off. Mind you, at that temperature it's much easier to get into the water. I might leave it for a day or two, we'll see.

Having said that Rosemary wrote to say that it had hit 100F (37.8C) in Salt Lake City. OK, I give in, you win, I can't beat that.

Spot the gay groundsman

Gordon needs a tonic

I used to enjoy listening to Tony Blair. He had a great way of presenting his facts and making you listen closely to what he was saying. When he spoke, I listened. Whilst somewhat sceptical of the war in Iraq, I listened to the argument that he put before parliament and he won me over. He was a good orator, well rehearsed, often amusing and knew his subject well. Even if you disagreed with him he put his case well and he could make you think. But now, how things have changed. Do you suffer from the 'Gordon Glaze'? The difference between Blair and Brown is amazing. I read an article at the weekend that expressed my feelings excactly. Try as I might, I have never heard the end of a sentence that Gordon Brown has spoken. He has the ability to make me start thinking of something else immediately. Alison Pearson in the Mail at the weekend, put it like this:

"our new Prime Minister could not shout 'Fire' in a blazing building. As the flames licked around his brogues, Gordon would rumble Scottishly: The British people expect me to be resolute, and I'm entirely resolute, in setting in place rigorous procedures to combat this conflagration which is burning my trousers, and indeed all communities must be united in mounting a robust defence against fire, a fire that gets to the very heart of my trousers and what it means to be British."

He has no idea how to present his facts in an interesting, amusing or blokey kind of way. He is, at best, exceedingly boring. I don't doubt for a second that he is very bright, works his socks off but purleese save me from this man. There was a time when I would have argued that how you dressed and what your personality was like, counted for nothing, but I was wrong. If you can't listen to a politician without falling asleep then he (or she, for my feminist friends) might just as well not say anything at all. And then you wouldn't be a politician!

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And the moral is, never accept an invitation from friends in Belgium. You never know what might be served up. When I was younger I used to eat snails. I particularly remember eating tiny ones in a rich tomato sauce at the orphanage next to my Italian grandmother's place in Foggia, in southern Italy. In sending me to eat with the kids in the orphanage, they were probably trying to tell me something but I never caught on. Anyway, after one trip to Belgium that all changed. I was served the biggest, chewiest, most disgusting snails imaginable, and that was it. Snails were off the menu.

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Talking of snails, we've been inundated with the pesky little critters this year. They climb up anything (like the apricot tree), as you can see above, and not just in ones and twos. Nobody seems to know what they're called. I've got a name for them!

A wedding feast fit for a king

Before we left for France, Jan and I drank nothing but new world wines. We particularly liked to try different Chardonnays, so it was with pleasure that we started again during our recent trip to Brighton. Like most wines, some we liked and some we didn't but some were as good as a good Meursault, for a fraction of the price. French wine growers have dug themselves into a bit of a hole and it's not easy to see how they will get themselves out. I'm not sure that trying to empty the wine lake will do anything more than putting more French viticulturists onto a subsidy regime that they can never break from. It's all very sad but it amply demonstrates that in a changing world if you sit back and do nothing then it can really hurt you.

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Talking about sitting back and doing nothing, did you see the recent criticism of Sarkozy, in the French press, concerning the fact that he exercises in public (he jogs) and how undignified it was? According to the article that I read, he should behave with more decorum and more finesse. I suppose a little like Chirac who did nothing for the last ten years of his reign other than take the country down the tubes. That kind of finesse? Sounds to me, that if that is the only thing you can accuse the man of, then he must be doing a pretty good job.

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A few weeks back we were invited to a wedding in Cornwall and, as a joke, I suggested to the bride and groom that, to give the wedding that authentic Cornish touch, they should serve Ginsters pies because they are made in Cornwall. In the good old days, when I travelled a lot, I ate many such pies on petrol station forecourts all over the UK. This is how I developed a cast iron constitution and my gourmet tastes. Anyway, for a joke, Jan bought me a Ginsters Chicken Slice when we were in Brighton and served it for lunch today. A sort of gastronomic trip down memory lane. As I walked into lunch, I noticed that she was checking the sell by date and I had to point out to my beloved that the filling would get me well before any exposure to sell by date. She was not amused. But if you want a laugh, the lunch consisted of a very elegant vichyssoise soup, gently flavoured with lavender flowers from the garden. Dead posh and very tasty. This Epicurean delight was followed by my cold Ginsters Chicken Slice and salad. Who says we don't live well?

Airport security, again

Given all the extra security at airports at the moment, we left in good time to get through all the inevitable hassle and get back to France. I'm still amazed at how stoical everybody seems at the loss of their personal dignity at airport security. As we approached the terminal the police had stopped a car at a roadblock and were questioning an elderly black guy. Once inside we had to queue for ages for the dubious pleasure of passing through security. Security that involved five people gathering around the x-ray screen as the operative wanted to log off, then another five to help the next operative log on. In these people's hands is our well being. Whilst all this is going on, the x-ray machine is not working and we all stood there like a bunch of lemons. Yet again I had to gather up my belt, shoes, laptop, carry on bag and tray with coins in it with one hand, whilst holding up my trousers with the other. And, just in case you were wondering, they didn't stop or catch any terrorists!

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Talking about extra security did you see this news item?

Liverpool airport was closed for four hours today after police found a suspicious car parked outside. It was taxed, insured and still had its radio.

Conspiracy theories

I can't be the only person that has noticed this, but has anybody else noticed the similarity between the female, ex Soviet block countries, tennis players at Wimbledon? In the main they are all blond, sultry, tanned, very good looking, with very long slender legs (for goodness sake stop dribbling - Ed) and know how to hit a mean tennis ball. I want to be the first to start a conspiracy theory. The similarity between these girls reminds me of the film The Boys From Brazil. I'm convinced that there is a farm somewhere in Eastern Europe that is populated by blond amazons, both male and female, and they are churning out these kids in order to conquer the female tennis world. But where are the boys? I think that it's very spooky. We need to be told! Any takers?

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If proof were ever needed that the National Health Service is in a mess you just need to look at the recent terrorist activity. It appears that the perpetrators are, in the main, 'foreign' medics that work for the NHS. We need to hope that they're better doctors than terrorists. They're all bloody useless at blowing people up.

And, another conspiracy theory. Could they be linked to the incidence of MRSA in British hospitals? More people die from infection caught in UK hospitals than from road accidents!

Fresh vegetables

After a couple of hours in Marks and Spencer, it was back to the flat to indulge in some of their goodies for lunch. Later this afternoon we went over to the nursery to take Maisie (in pensive mood above) out to the park and stuff her full of cholates and ice cream. I must admit that we joined in a bit as well.

One of the things that I really miss when travelling, which obviously involves a higher number of restaurant meals, is salads and fruit. We made up for that tonight by eating a huge greek salad and blue berries and raspberries for pudding. The best meal so far. Thanks Jan.

It's still raining!

Family time

At long last smoking in public places is outlawed in England. Just why has it take so long? For a long time, despite liking the odd drink, I have avoided pubs because of the compulsory fug, which leaves you and your clothes reeking. As an ex smoker I suppose that's a bit hypocritical but until you stop smoking, and your sense of smell is restored, you have no idea how bad it is. The thought of kissing a smoker (the thought of you kissing anybody makes me feel ill - Ed) is quite a turn off .

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After a lazy morning reading the Sunday papers and then after a long lazy lunch, we all took off down to the sea front. Because it was slightly unusual to get Jan with three of her children together at the same time, I took the above snap down by the windy beach. From left to right, Luke, looking like he was hiding rasta locks, Rebecca, Jan and Josh. (This is not what you would call hard hitting travel journalism! - Ed)