It was all hands on deck today, to prepare for the soiree. Sandie had Matt and me chopping mountains of shallots, carrots, apples, tomatoes, and strawberries. Then we got all the chairs and tables out and hosed them down.
Then it was lunch time, and we ate the strawberries with cream for dessert (they were supposed to go into a coulis). They were very good.
Rachael, Charlie, and the kids went for a walk, and went too far and had to be rescued in the car
Christian and I escaped at this point, to go for a swim. We chose not to go to Grolejac, because of the sandy lanes - I was worried about the Tesla getting stuck, and Christian actually agreed with me. Instead, we went to Saint-Julien-de-Lampon. We first tried parking in a caravan park, and, finding it full, crossed over the bridge to the other side of the river, where there was ample parking (if you call a field ample parking).
We got out our gear, and found a spot on the (dirty) crowded bank. Christian went storming in, as usual, but it took me longer, as the water was pretty chilly. I did get in, though, and it was very refreshing. It was very shallow, and the current was therefore very strong. Therefore, lying down in the water, and lifting your feet off the bottom was quite fun.
Christian went in again, and then disappeared on a toilet/ice cream mission - failing on the ice cream. We packed up, and went into the village in search of ice cream. We failed, though it was a nice little village. The cafe we went to look in was very quaint.
So we kept on, following the river for some time, noting all the other good places to swim that we spotted. We stopped in Souillac, in another vain attempt to find ice cream. We parked in the museum, and wandered through the mostly deserted streets. The town was congregated in a large square, watching a fairly random marching band playing very loudly. There was no ice cream.
We gave up, and drove north through the town, making one more fruitless stop before joining the A20 and driving back to St Cirq. We had showers, helped Sandie set the tables, and waited for the guests to arrive.
And arrive they did. Sandie was so pleased that Guy's family and the other neighbours were in the same place for the first time since he died - it was a fairly subdued gathering, but very nice. The food, as usual, was superb, and the wine flowed freely. The 'band' chose not to play in the end, as they only had one song - The Wombles, for some unknown reason. I had learnt the melody on the pennywhistle, but John just used the PA to play jazz (at Sandie's request).
As Christian and I were leaving early the next morning, we went off to bed before the festivities had finished.
Then it was lunch time, and we ate the strawberries with cream for dessert (they were supposed to go into a coulis). They were very good.
Rachael, Charlie, and the kids went for a walk, and went too far and had to be rescued in the car
Christian and I escaped at this point, to go for a swim. We chose not to go to Grolejac, because of the sandy lanes - I was worried about the Tesla getting stuck, and Christian actually agreed with me. Instead, we went to Saint-Julien-de-Lampon. We first tried parking in a caravan park, and, finding it full, crossed over the bridge to the other side of the river, where there was ample parking (if you call a field ample parking).
We got out our gear, and found a spot on the (dirty) crowded bank. Christian went storming in, as usual, but it took me longer, as the water was pretty chilly. I did get in, though, and it was very refreshing. It was very shallow, and the current was therefore very strong. Therefore, lying down in the water, and lifting your feet off the bottom was quite fun.
Christian went in again, and then disappeared on a toilet/ice cream mission - failing on the ice cream. We packed up, and went into the village in search of ice cream. We failed, though it was a nice little village. The cafe we went to look in was very quaint.
So we kept on, following the river for some time, noting all the other good places to swim that we spotted. We stopped in Souillac, in another vain attempt to find ice cream. We parked in the museum, and wandered through the mostly deserted streets. The town was congregated in a large square, watching a fairly random marching band playing very loudly. There was no ice cream.
We gave up, and drove north through the town, making one more fruitless stop before joining the A20 and driving back to St Cirq. We had showers, helped Sandie set the tables, and waited for the guests to arrive.
And arrive they did. Sandie was so pleased that Guy's family and the other neighbours were in the same place for the first time since he died - it was a fairly subdued gathering, but very nice. The food, as usual, was superb, and the wine flowed freely. The 'band' chose not to play in the end, as they only had one song - The Wombles, for some unknown reason. I had learnt the melody on the pennywhistle, but John just used the PA to play jazz (at Sandie's request).
As Christian and I were leaving early the next morning, we went off to bed before the festivities had finished.
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