Ah, but before then -

before the news about my father - we had such a glorious time with Annie and Graeme.  They've left a wealth of affection behind: the patisserie still asks for updates on Graeme's hunt for the perfect croissant, and the glacerie is bereft. The parsley Anne planted is leaping into action, and I turned the last of our gleaned plums into a glorious sauce to serve with Memorial Roast Duck.

They arrived with a vast block of gorgonzola which we progressively demolished day after day, champagne - which took rather less time  - and their excellent appetites for fun and food and philosophy. They entered into every little bit of village life and the village misses them now, and so do we.

 But we have photos...