Aux lits!

There's something delightfully French about the French. They don't give a damn about anyone else, and I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way. I love the grumpy reluctance to crack a smile when having to deal with requests; the refusal to understand any English word unless accompanied by a French accent (not, 'ahmburgeur, not hamburger); and restaurants closing on Mondays. Of less enjoyment is is the utter lack of any curry ingredients in the supermarket (though this year the local store is better equipped for more spicy cuisine creation); or that occasional response in English to any spoken French on my part (Ah speek zee Eengleesh better zan yoo can speek zee Franch you wiper of ozer peepols bottoms), though that's only happened once so far (and it seems I still have the remnants of German in my French accent - my friends while studying in France, for the most part, were German - which makes people think for a second before asking if it's the English guide we want. The height, blonde hair and blue eyes probably add to any confusion).

Anyway, lazy day with a supermarket shop confirms that the pound 'aint as good against the Euro as it used to be, before a drive to Beaune to see the roof of Hotel Dieu, a 15th century hospital (mainly for the poor - these beds being a remarkable ward within the building, all numbered, with a store cupboard for each, and a walkway behind for the nuns who looked after the patients). The religious overtones were everywhere. A sign declared that those who are suffering should remember that Jesus also suffered and that they should be honoured to be following in his footsteps. But I can forgive them that for the humanitarian nature of the enterprise at a time when the poor, and certainly the unwell poor, were merely a scrape on the shoe of those above them.

The winding road took us back to the house, and a seat in the sun with a glass of Cremant de Bourgogne and the buzzing of crickets all around us. Nice and easy first day, re-acquainting with France, with the French, and with driving on the right hand side of the road (the obligatory wander along a country road on the wrong side has already been achieved without head-on collision, which should mean that's the end of that particular Anglo-mistake).