The end

I've just finished reading 'A year in Provence' which brought back many memories from my recent holiday.

There was a lovely anecdote at the end, which especially rang true and it went something like this: when a crisis threatens the stomach, the French are at their sympathetic best. Unable to cook Christmas lunch, the author contacted a local restaurant who squeezed them in upon hearing their tale of woe. While I was certainly facing no 'crisis' when in Goult, the recommended restaurant didn't have a 'proper' table for me when I tried to book early in the day. They offered something 'make do' which I took as I was keen to try their cooking. When I came back that evening for dinner, they'd found me a place on the balcony, with a beautiful view, on a table just the right size for one person.