Second report from the Dordogne

My last visitors have gone; who will be next! My mother thought the house had too many windows, had a difficult staircase, and was altogether too far from Bordeaux. It's

also too far from Rome, Vienna, Barcelona, etc. etc. Anyhow, she got home alive. She couldn't understand how we had three rubbish collections per week while living so far from anywhere. (We live in the middle of a city of 27,000 people!). How do people in Gaway get their rubbish collected, as they're so far from Dublin??

The gates-and-pillars project should end tomorrow. The gates had to go away for a respray, due to a misunderstanding between the builder and the supplier (who both speak French), about who paints on the required colour. They all come originally in black. Noir to you.

I had my first cold call today. In Dublin, I would hang up after 10 seconds, but I hung on to see if I could figure out what it was about. At first I thought she was trying to sell me her body, but she asked a lot of questions about what I liked on television. I replied truthfully that, apart from football, my favourite programme was the weather forecast. I was tempted to tell her that I also watched live sex involving people of mixed race (and sex), preferably with a couple of cows thrown in! However, I didn't know enough French. She was selling cable television, the various Canal Plus stations, and I'm delighted that I understood that much. Eventually, she concluded that I might be interested "plus tard" but not today.

The gardening is going well, and none of the dozens of plants has died, despite being planted in a heatwave. This is due to assiduous "arrosage" on a daily basis. I have ceased for the moment, as I reckon the plants need a week of watering to survive in drought. Reading plant labels in a garden centre is like reading a foreign language. (Ian Rush (from Liverpool) said that living in Milan was like living in a foreign country). So, I use a big fat dictionary. But, I'm learning.

Keep working on the class visit.