Kinfolk

There are kinfolk who share the same ancestors with you, and then there are kinfolk where the connection is in the heart, not the blood. That's how I feel about C, on the left, and J, on the right, whom we met on our first visit to France in 2000.

English-born, they made new lives for themselves in the Languedoc several decades ago. C managed the first holiday rental we had, and several visits later, Phil and I sang in the spring concert of the multi-village choir he conducted, as well as his more select, multi-expats-plus-local-French-folks chamber choir, in the Olargues village church. We've spent time with them on our six previous visits, and today, a rainy and cool contrast to yesterday's sunshine, we segued from morning coffee at their lovely home to a delicious impromptu lunch, in which J's homemade pickled figs stole the show.

Phil and J have September birthdays, and C and I are only a few days and a handful of years apart in February. We all love books, music, word play, good food, travel, and ruminating on everyday life.

We've not been together for two years, nor have we writen to one another often during those months, but today it was as if we'd seen each other just last week. Fortunately, we have two more times together with C and J in the next few days -- dinner out in a restaurant new to us on Friday evening, and Sunday lunch at our favorite restuarant in Olargues, run by a Danish couple.

In the meantime, tomorrow is the first of our Blipmeets -- in Gabian, with Lo Jardinier.

(To enjoy Phil's views of our holiday, go to Blipfoto.com/Pilipo -- sorry I'm not savvy enough to do the link.)