As the elegantly French title of this post suggests, there really is little to report since the last post. We’ve drunk lots of wine, mostly good. We’ve eaten many a meal, again, mostly good. On one occasion I jumped into the pool, but then leapt back out again. I have yet to summon up the courage to go back in to retrieve my testicles, which instantly froze clean off and clanged to the bottom like two wrought iron maracas.

The region is undoubtedly a beautiful one, with lush valleys and pretty little villages. I have looked at a medieval chapel on a hill. I have gazed upon a medieval hospice in a town. I have surveyed a local chateaux and guessed that it perhaps dated back to the medieval period, though I have no idea why. The sun has gotten progressively more bullish and all has been well.

There are a couple of uncommonly large rabbits which frequent our lawn. Every so often the male one will attempt to do what rabbits do, but I do not feel his heart is in it.

I have done quite a lot of writing. Sadly I am now at that stage many authors come to periodically, where I am quite convinced that my ‘stuff’ is utter bobbins. Fortunately there is still much wine.

We caught a large gerbil-type creature in our kitchen attempting to make off with our hard-earned foodstuffs. We gave him two-days without the option in a small metal cage then released him three miles away. He has not returned, proving the rehabilitative powers of a decent bit of ‘bird’.

L’Aigle and Moan of Arc will be arriving tomorrow, so perhaps they will attempt to interrupt the pleasant, lazy routine The Old Man and I have perfected this past week. Hopefully we might catch a rat tonight. I feel dear old Moan would appreciate that.

Oh, lastly we met Mungo, our landlord. He is, in fact, real, not a Wodehousian creation as some cretin once suggested. He and his wife had us around for drinks, and we were informed that his ancestor used to run India and that another of his forebears was a fellow called Oliver Cromwell. He was more keen to talk about the India chappie.

All in all they seemed good sorts and at one point Mungo attempted to flog The Old Man the whole estate. Perhaps he assumed that the Mansfields also used to govern sub-continental nations. We didn’t, for the record. Not even Sri Lanka.