Our village

We’re right at the top, not far from the old church. This taken, as we returned from a local market, and before we had made our way up through the narrow, winding streets.

An afternoon of doing very little, but that little in the sun, or shade of the sun. Lots of reading done, washing is dried in a flash, the pool is tried out. I eventually make a ratatouille with the freshest aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes. Then Gordon creates something with chicken and goat’s cheese. This is living in France, as we love it.
    
(And this is a back blip – Blip returned too late for me last night. Only my second back blip – the first was when we were on the train to Chicago.)