Garlic sculptures.

What few tourists find their way to this remote part of southern France are long gone. The locals now comfortably settled back into their normal routines away from the prying eyes of Parisians and other sophisticates.

Yesterday marked the start of the two day agricultural fair in the local market town. One of the social highlights of the year. It goes without saying that 'the font' had us there bright and early for the official unveiling and the judging of the garlic sculptures. Early by our standards translates into mid-morning for these farming folk . As Wilf followed me across the concourse, stopping en route to christen the tyres on the display of John Deere tractors, we could see that the beer tent was already doing a brisk trade.

While 'the font' went to listen to the mayors speech and look at the garlic tableaux ( the child on the bench came first, the lady in the crinoline second ) we settled down at a table for a coffee and a bowl of water. With Wilf keeping a watchful eye on the bibulous farmers I was able to study the programme. It appears that at six thirty tonight there is the 'Most adept woman' competition. Clearly this means something to the French but doesn't tell an outside observer a whole lot. I'm hoping this may be a beauty pageant but am equally steeled to the fact that it could be something to do with cooking, or chainsawing. From the way he sniffed the air it was clear that Wilfs hoping that sausages will feature prominently in the 'adept woman' proceedings.