UFO's, smoked salmon and diplomacy.

To the hypermarket in Toulouse to look for Scottish smoked salmon for St.Andrews night. Alaskan, Norwegian, Irish, Welsh, Bio. Everything but Scottish. After much searching finally found a few packs marked 'Ecosse Sauvage' skulking at the bottom of a refrigerated counter . Buying wine was much easier . The shelves were fully stocked and groaning under a huge selection of pre-Christmas delights. Yours truly could have spent all day there but 'the font' wanted to hurry back to pay Madame Bay.

As she was leaving the house Madame Bay informed us that we live in a UFO hotspot . Another of those gems of local information for which our saintly cleaning lady is famous. It seems that our little patch of paradise reports more strange objects in the sky than any other part of France . " Nothing to do with being an hour from the Airbus factory in Toulouse ? " I suggested. ' Mais Non ! ' came the emphatic reply. ' Why, Delphine ( her eldest daughter ) had been woken up at four o'clock one morning by strange lights in the garden . And M'Ongoose the intruders were completely silent ! ' The existence of extra terrestrial life proved beyond any reasonable doubt . My sympathy lies with Delphines sleep interrupted husband - but that was diplomatically left unsaid.

Dicussing the failings of the French rugby team with the owner of the bar this morning I suddenly heard Wilf issue a quiet bark. Something he never does in public. The peroxide waitress had collected all the crunchy crumbs from the mornings croissant delivery and was drizzling them slowly into Wilfs open mouth. Faced with a culinary treat like that he simply couldn't keep quiet. Canine sherbet. Life just keeps on getting better. I could have sworn he was smiling when he clambered up into the car.