Nimes to Paris
It was sad to say goodbye to the millhouse which had treated us so well, but exciting to head off to Paris.
After all, I had a conference to go to, so there was work to be done!
We caught the fast train, carrying along a picnic of baguettes, smelly cheese and red wine. What a life.
My sister groaned when she saw this. She is good at French (fortunately), but my last experience of the language was at school over two decades ago. And I wasn’t good at it then. I don’t think she quite got my joke when I used “Pigeon French” on this page. Oh well!