Refeeding after the long flight, and broken wings.

The next day started wonderfully. Waking up after a coma is a wonderful experience. The birds here are very vocal and the morning heat is pleasant as the air is still cool from the night, and my skin soaked up the warmth as I opened the shutters.  I will never get tired of the view from my parents balcony. 

Breakfast on the balcony is superb.

Any will power to eat low carbs while in France dissolved away on first sighting of the bread that Rani had bought at the local bakery. A low carb diet in France would be sacrilege. Consider such thoughts abandonee! On first crunchy mouthful of baguette, followed by the sumptuous sinking of teeth into the moist, slightly warm, perfectly formed fleshy bread core, my addiction centre activity went right off the scale, over-riding my attention distraction unit. I was focussed, and the target was in my sight until devoured. After the carnage, I scanned the table desperately for remaining crumbs to recover. France is not going to be an exercise in self discipline. There, I've said it. Now I have made public my intention to self indulge, it's a contract.

It was also wonderful to be with my parents, sister and her son, and Mary in one of the many beautiful regions of France. Nothing to worry about (much… we still get email)

After breakfast, Mary broke some news to me. Our migratory birds had arrived somewhat worse for wear. We had noticed telltale plumage damage the previous day (bad scuff marks on the bags), but had made a conscious decision to defer examination until we had nested.

Extracting the bikes from their bags, there was strong circumstantial evidence that the baggage handlers had waged a personal vendetta against our defenceless fledglings. Cracked and distorted gear changer selectors, bent racks and a broken seat stem retainer plug.. but would they ride? That would have to wait as Mary and Rani had urgent plans to head off to hide in a cave, which they did. 

I spent my morning doing what I love: helping maman with her computer (which had decided to join the train strike)! Even typing a single word could take 10 minutes. I love that beach ball! 

Anyhow.. it took a while, but I fixed it.

The afternoon was spent trying to repair the bikes and having a well needed snooze. But by 5 pm we were on our toes again… it was time for a surreal experience!!!

This took the form of a private performance by a group of touring young singers who were in an opera training program. They would be singing in French, popular excerpts from major operas, at Carol's place which is up the hill in Belves. Carol is an extremely generous person, and she had invited us. We did our best to disguise our exhaustion, and climbed the hill to her house. We chatted as the audience gathered and sat in anticipation… a mixed crowd of locals and expats, so the greetings circulated in at least two languages, and then it began.. an introduction and then applause as the first singer approached the piano. What then happened was amazing. The most incredible procession of talented young students, producing wonderful vocal performances with little cameos of operatic acting. Interspersed were some performances from professionals including Robert Osborne , and accompaniment by Robert, Carol's partner. I was blown away. We followed this incredible event with finger food at a local mansion, where we chatted with the musicians, and their patron, Michel Senechal. Later that night, we descended to our humble dwelling having had a real treat.