A very French night.

All things shall pass. Even voles. After an uncomfortable 48 hours Wilf and the dessicated rodent have finally gone their separate ways . Usually we would give him a food free 24 hours to let his stomach settle but with diabetes that's impossible . Today normal service has been resumed. The family fellow joins me for the croissant run into town . The beer and absinthe set at the cafe look up from their pre-breakfast card game and greet him with a hearty '' Bonjour Wilfee " .

Mid-Sunday morning . Monsieur Bozo's septic tank cleaning truck arrives . €179 to clear out two of the old fosse septiques that the builders uncovered last week . '' Sunday rates mate " says the driver / operator when I ask him how ten minutes work could cost so much . ' But you were supposed to come on Friday ' I reply. '' Take it up with the office mate " and with that and a shrug of the shoulders he goes .

Three accordionists sitting on the village green playing until gone midnight. We sit on the terrace, eating dinner and listening to the music . Pintade au Banyuls, poireaux grilles followed by poire rotie, sauce au vin et noix de pecan . Wilf lies asleep under the table his paw on my foot . Not a cloud in the sky . A very French night .