A little word play. ‘Mon Pote âgé’ translates as ‘My old mate’. but ‘Mon potager’ (which sounds exactly the same) means ‘my vegetable patch’.

And on the right we have the Abbey of Saint Sever de Rustan.

Life is too short to spit out a good wine... though the wine cellar manager may disagree.

The autoroutes of gascony... beware of tractors changing lanes!

Motocross warning sign.

It seems that all our neighbours have their own way to get rid of moles.

The usually rugby scrum at the baker's on a Sunday morning.

Two happy fishermen in the woods. Drawing by Perry Taylor, watercolour background by Jean-François Lasnier

There go Caroline's newly planted flowers

When the sheep shearer comes from Paris, beware of the results.