Recovery.

We left Sitges at 5 a.m. on Wednesday morning, unable to sleep or to stay in that town any longer.  We crossed the border into France as the sky lightened into day.  Escape.  Yesterday was recovery.  Today we went to lunch in one of those old fashioned places where you eat what is set in front of you, in this case soup, cod fried in butter with risotto, cheeseboard and dessert.  A (litre) bottle of fairly rough red was plonked on the table as we sat down.  The only other eaters comprised a table of nine octogenarians.  They were unruly in a safe kind of way, arguing politics and gently harassing the  elderly server, who is also the owner, to bring their food more quickly.  This seemed to be the daily custom and they were drinking a lot of wine.  At one point someone shouted in French "Speak French". Evidently some were speaking the old language of Oc or a mixture of this and patois.  As we left, we were entreated by the owner to return.  We will.