With the aid of a surplus wire coat hanger and one of the Jeep's head restraints, I secured an empty gas bottle for its trip up to the market town yesterday. We had to stop en route to modify the design, so any hubris on my part would be worthy of the definition. My mistake was then to try and manhandle the bottle back to the car single-handed, with the usual consequence of backache today, with all the other attendant aches that surface when the sciatic nerve starts flashing.
Today, nothing daunted, we went off in search of a lunch spot out of the gusts that are afflicting this part of the country. Having found a pizzeria in Homps on line, we arrived to find it closed. Back in the car, then, with the wheel passed to the one without sciatica in the clutch leg, and off to Argens-Minervois, where the Guingette is under the same management as the Auberge du Somail. It's little more than a gravel yard with some tents and canopies, a kitchen in a hut and a big wood-fired grill, but like its sister establishment, it stands on the bank of the Canal du Midi. Friendly reception, decent, inexpensive food and perfectly adequate wine. We took a big clockwise loop route home, entering the village from the south west. Glad to report that the Boutenac vineyards look to be in fine form.
No great activity back here this afternoon other than to get in the washing and slap a bit of paint on repaired plaster work on the chimney breast. Lazy days? I'm in favour.
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