No bees.

There's no sign of the bees. It looks as if the 'environmentally friendly' way of dealing with them has worked. Mark you, that's what we thought before they came winging back bringing family and friends with them. The octogenarian apiarists parting comment before speeding off was - " Monsieur Ongoose, the honey could have fallen on you in the night if I had not removed it". The thought of 15 kilos of gooey honey dripping in large dollops through the bedroom ceiling in the small hours made me giggle. 'The fonts' reaction may have been somewhat different. I giggled even more.

To the wine counters in the hypermarket. For a moment thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Aisle after aisle of Burgundy, Beaujolais, Brouilly, and Bordeaux. Used the chance to load up the trolley with ruby nectar. On the way out passed the dog section and bought a fluffy rugby ball for Wilf - tonight we'll expand the party envelope and move from rug surfing to touch rugby. A picture of a PON - suitably groomed - beamed back from the packaging of a tick collar. The bakery counter had seasonal mirabelles and myrtilles gateaux - only in France.

Headline on the front cover of todays paper from Paris - 'A fifth of Americans believe Barack Obama is a Muslim'. Wilf gave me his most incredulous look.