Up bright and early before the heat kicks in and off to the market with Wilf. There are fewer stalls around (even the market folk take August off ) but we were able to buy some cheese, fruit and croissants. The lady behind the cheese stall firmly told me that the aged Comte must only be eaten with a rich Burgundy. Wilf sat staring at the cheeses, savouring the smells and hoping that the stall would topple over.
As we sauntered back past the shuttered cafe ( are the absinthe drinkers imbibing at home ?) the new phone rang. Well, it didn't so much ring as sing. Much to the amusement of certain junior members of the family the new 'device' has been set so that the sounds of Shakiras Waka Waka boom out every time there's an incoming call. 'How cool is that' I asked Wilf. "Not very" he seemed to say before scooting off to christen the tyres on a yellow Renault.