View from the ditch

I wouldn't have ended up in the ditch if that raggedy crowd hadn't turned up at the door of the Moulin half an hour before I was meant to be at Magalas. 
Rousseaux traipsed in with the long-suffering Mathéo, Nono slepped up the stairs carrying his new baby dog, Josette appeared because she could smell an apéro and la Baronne followed in her wake.
I sat them all around the kitchen table and told them I only had half an hour, but an hour later it was like herding spiders out. 
When I got to Magalas the whole gang was there, Myrt was serving up and I couldn't even blame Nico for my tardiness.  I kissed Marie Ange on the lips because Mr R had asked me to, but she didn't appreciate it much and wisely so.  I dandled her little boy on my lap while he played video games on his phone with the expertise of the very young.  
At midnight our little convoy left for town, but I misjudged the turning because I was looking at the moon above the hill and planted the Twingo in the ditch.
The party continued at the ditch, as only the best ones do, and well, it was worth it for the photo.