Sometimes I wonder about this country. We were aware of some loud music at a distance yesterday evening and thought it might be some neighbours at a farm half a mile away. Not a bit of it: it was in Marmande, twelve bloody miles away! More to come: the festival continues until Sunday. Pity the good people of Marmande.
We’d a decent enough drive up to Annie’s on Wednesday: the motorway wasn’t too busy. The Toulouse ring road was its usual mix of lunacy and anarchy, but I did my usual trick of keeping my distance and sticking to the limit, allowing the nutters to provide entertainment. We haven’t - yet - had the crazy temperatures that have been breaking records elsewhere in the country. We’ve seen 37C on the car thermometer once or twice though. We went to the market in La Réole this morning, picking up all sorts of fresh veg and things, with the intention of going into town to see an art exhibition. By the time we’d shopped, we all came to the conclusion around the same time that we’d just go home: by 11:00 it was getting quite oppressive. As I write around 13:00, the mercury has passed the 33 mark. Siesta in prospect. Much is to be said for skulking indoors in an ancient stone-built house in this weather.
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