Back to civilisation, Chapter 29

They seem to have sorted their queuing problems at the security desks at Gatwick, so we were through in good time for cups of tea overlooking the field.  (I'd removed shoes, change, watch, door key and belt, but the buzzer still went off - must be the teeth.)  The flight was smooth and comfortable apart from the scraiching bairns nearby, but we ain't complainin' too much.  We arrived just as a BA A380 was taking off, still wearing its F-WWxx registration.  (Interesting - well, up to a point... - that they use the same WW as temporary car registrations.  The letter 'W' rarely occurs in French, or not outside Flanders, at least.)  The car hire outfit couldn't produce an automatic, and adding insult to injury, have provided us with a Ford Focus with no fewer than six gears, well over 40'000k on the clock since December, and a barely legal amount of tread on the fronts.  As for the gears, I tend to use 1, 2, 4 and 6 out of sheer cussedness, since the biggish diesel motor is torquey.  It is a low-slung contraption, so getting in and out is something of a grunt and groan experience.  I'm starting to get the hang of the minor controls, and have managed to switch off the infuriating device that shakes the steering wheel when you move back into the right-hand lane after overtaking, the amber light in the door mirror having told you it's safe to do so....  But there remain a legion of buttons and knobs, the functions of which I can't even guess at.  Wonder if it makes a decent pot of tea?  Must RTFM (Read The Manual).

The weather is ideal: still, cloudless and warm, so we spent a while up on the terrace last night watching the bats until the bugs started getting interested.  Today we have been shopping: important stuff like rosé, rouge, gin (friends coming for drinks tomorrow) and Armagnac.  The freezer is now stocked up for a good week's meals, and Martyn has made up a big vat of fruit salad, not without a squirt of Muscat de Rivesaltes, one hastens to add.  He has also made a ratatouille to go with some salmon this evening.

The air is pretty clear today, so we had good views of the Canigou on the way home from the market town - similar yesterday, now I remember: we had decent views of the Pyrenees as we came down.  What's missing, however, is the riot of colour we had in June and July: everything looks rather scorched.  The pale blue of the copper sulphate they're spraying on the vines at Camplong isn't quite the same.