Surely there should be some way of marking the fact that we arrived in France three years ago today.

A spectacular meal with all our own food, perhaps; to show how far we’ve come down the road to self sufficiency. Pate with home-made bread to start, maybe, followed by pork bolognaise with pasta made from our own eggs, then tart with home-made jam, summer pudding, or crepes flambéed in a friend’s do-not-drink-under-any-circumstances eau de vie?

Sadly not.

You see, we’re a bit knackered today, after a yesterday spent canoeing down the river from Siorac to Limeuil, followed by dinner in the square at the marche nocture in Mauzac, followed by a film outdoors next to the abbey in Cadouin (all after taking care of our own animals and the neighbour’s veggie patch and house while they are away).

So we’ll have to make do with a bottle of our own very excellent elderflower champagne. The good life’s not so bad, really.

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