Normal service. Almost .

Another day of arctic temperatures . Late afternoon and a snow plough finally makes it through to the village . Six full days after the blizzard . The driver gets out to smoke a cigarette . Wilf uses the opportunity to carefully christen its tyres .

Saturday morning . Outside the chateau a fleet of white vans . Men in blue overalls everywhere. Seems that the pipes have burst and brought down the ballroom ceiling . Takes a German billionaire and triple overtime to get this many plumbers out on a Saturday morning .

The road into the little market town now free of snow. On our way to collect the breakfast croissants we pass three cars that have skidded into the drainage ditches . The locals unused to driving on icy surfaces . Crossroads a version of Russian roulette . Best to stop and wait .

Wilf gets his illicit half croissant at the cafe under the arcades. The man with the crimson motability scooter is to be found in his usual place , outside the cafe , drinking a beer . The purple haired lady in the newsagent has had her central heating restored . She's still wrapped up in seven layers of clothing and the red felt hat with the flaps, but is , she tells me, less cold . Normal service almost resumed .