L'hou solitaire

Lorraine drove us bravely to the nearby town of St Ambroix this morning. There was a sort of market there, but it was a typically French little town.  There was a market there, which we were hoping would sell food, however it mainly sold clothes and bric a brac.

Brilliantly a chemist was open, and had a vast range of mosquito products. Spray at last. For these winged bastards would try the patience of a Jainist priest.

We had coffee in a place with a rude waitress, then walked about and up a hill with lovely rooftop views of the town, where appalling things seem to have been done by ancient Celts (including beheadings) and a Protestant church was burned down. Speculated if the hill cast a dark shadow on the people of St Ambroix as we stood there.  

We made our way down back into town and found a wee bistro, where we had a nice meal. I had mackerel stuffed with raisins and pine nuts and courgettes cooked in a creamy sauce, which was splendid. Lorraine had a good burger. I was given an artisan beer called L' Hou Solitaire with a picture of a wolf face on it which I liked a great deal. The solitary howl was about six percent and full of sediment at the bottom, but quite tasty.

After these adventures Lorraine and I drove back. Emboldened by mosquito spray, enjoyed a lazy afternoon by the pool again. Reading, swimming and idling. A bit like paradise really.