We wiggled up over the Auvergne's dead volcanoes and wound around the Limousin's thousand cows.  Limoges seems light years away when you're stuck behind a Dutch caravan.

Once we finally broke free of all that wildness, Limoges revealed itself to be a sprawling metropolis worthy of a 6 highway périférique whichwe bypassed as quickly as we could.

From Limoges on the Romans thankfully took over, giving us straight roads that ran miles and my adled mind went into a pleasant dissociative state until we pulled up in the Place de l'Eglise.  

The church bell has turned faulty and is ringing only the half hour and the angelus.  It can't be bothered with the hours which suits me fine because neither can I. 

Anne Rose turns up in a whirl of saucepans and sauces and a big fish.and sets us to work.  Today she's wearing a full-on African dress printed with the Camerounais Lions Indomptables football logo 2002.  Respect.

Bernie barks at the bells, Pierre flicks wine corks across the table and mumbles to Marlene, his blond Disney princess girlfriend, on his pink plastic telephone.  Padre et fils play scrabble and I sleep and sleep and sleep.