Midi Matters

The furred, winged and scaly fauna of one corner of the Midi

Every village has them. The good ol’ boys who congregate in the village square or in the bar, gossiping and swapping tall tales and passing comment on the world as it goes by. Our village is no exception.
We are particularly blessed in good ol’ boys. There must be 10 or more to be seen of a morning, whiling away the time till midday, when Madame calls them in for lunch. It’s always midi on the dot, of course - an hour which, in honour of the local accent, we call ’l’heure du paing et du (...)

There is a sickness that afflicts those of us who dwell in the Midi. It is rarely fatal, although sufferers tend to become suicidal. We have almost all contracted it at some time or other. It is known as Having the Builders In.
As sufferers go, we are perhaps the luckiest: we have Reliable Builders. That means that if they promise faithfully to get the job done they will probably do so. In their own time, true. After much nagging, certainly. But our builders do actually build, and (...)

On buying a house in the Midi

Grape picking and more