Although there was a frost this morning, my big toe tells me that it will be too hot on the terrace by lunchtime.  

So we drag the trestles and the old sack-sewing board out to the side of the canal and make a table big enough for twelve or so..  We winch chairs down with a rope and pulley.  The grotty summer fridge is full of wine and food.  Papa's table in the barn is covered in a clean linen cloth and will serve as a bar. 

In the lull of the moment before people arrive I take this photo from the moulin window and wonder why I'm trying to get all the people I've invited back together again.