Wisteria Lane.

Our early morning trip into town .Wilfs not interested in his illicit half croissant (a side effect of the new tablets) but he's perked up enough to christen three street lights and a Dutch registered Volvo .

Back home to find all the windows open. Madame Bay standing in the drawing room , wiping, and then re-wiping the window sill. She ignores our arrival. Her attention firmly fixed on events across the lane where the old farmer is having a heated argument with a fifty something man . An out of villager.

Our ageing neighbour is decked out in red check shirt, voluminous shorts ( of the type worn by Edwardian explorers ), open toed sandals, black socks and a beret. An oversized spanner in his right hand. The 70's era Mercedes he's been ' doing up ' parked in the middle of the driveway. Bonnet, boot and all four doors open. Much gesticulating. Snippets of argument drift through the windows . '' You should have asked that before you bought it " from one. ' I'm going to the gendarmes ' from the other. Madame Bay occasionally stops her wiping to breathe in, deeply.

France Profondes version of Wisteria Lane. After lunch ' the font ' observes that the other side of the lane has gone quiet. Very quiet .