After living here just over four months we have finally conversed with our neighbours. I am ashamed to say that although many times we have said that we should have introduced ourselves we felt too embarrassed by our limited French to do so; luckily  the neighbours took it into their own hands and invited us into their home for a drink on Wednesday the 30th of December.

Rich had been in the cellar (cave in France) chopping logs, so  was in his scruffy work clothes (tracksuit bottoms are de rigour when living in France, due to the various chores you have to do, such as cutting logs, cleaning out the fire, getting coal, or more recently for Rich and I checking out your cesspit – but that is another story) an old Tee shirt with holes in it, and a fleece covered in paint. God knows what they thought! I…

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