Today was really decided for me.

Last night I was undecided about what to do today and so while musing over the problem with a coffee this morning, the phone rang. Nada had been wanting to come round and see Pooh Corner for a while and could she come this afternoon?

I told her to come this evening instead and I legged it into Commentry where I bought all of the stuff I needed to finish off the guttering, the stuff I needed to make the puzzolane water filter (expect the puzzolane), a pile of stuff from the cheapo shop (including a load of those clip-together storage bins at €1 for 3) and then back here and a quick tidy up.

While the tidying up was in progress we had a huge thunderstorm that presented us with 5mm of rain and flattened my potatoes (but at least it soaked all of the plants which is a good thing) and then Nada came round for her visit.

This evening was the annual walk around Virlet to get to know the commune and Nada came with me for the walk - it turns out that she knows the Mayor's wife. Going for a tramp in the woods was out of the question due to the thunderstorm and the fact that we wouldn't have caught him anyway so we visited the highlights of the village - namely the church that blew down in the hurricane in 1999, the old house that is on the point of falling down, and the cemetery which is of course right in the dead centre of the village.

Virlet is of course a very healthy village - so much so that they employ a man to go round the cemetery at closing time to tell the deceaseds to go back to sleep. It's a huge cemetery for such a small village and an American tourist said "do people die here often then?"
The cemetery keeper replied "no - just the once like everywhere else"
The wall is quite high too and our American visitor wanted to know why they bothered to put a wall around it. The keeper replied that it was because people were dying to get in.
And I was impressed with the cemetery keeper. He told me that his job carried a great deal of responsibility - he had 500 people under him.  
One thing that he did try to tell me was to reserve my plot. There were no English people buried in there (not that I am English but let's not spoil this story by introducing facts into it). He did say that there was a Scots grave in the cemetery. So I wandered off to have a look, and there it was - "Here lies Jock MacTavish, a loyal father and a devoted husband". Now isn't that just like the Scots to bury three men in one grave?

One of the issues with burials here is the cost - it isn't cheap. You can now get burials done on the instalment plan - they bury your left arm the first month, the right arm the second month et cetera. And I did ask the keeper what happens if you miss an instalment. "Well", he replied "we simply dig them up".

On leaving the cemetery this old guy was struggling his best to catch up with us.
"How old are you?" asked the cemetery keeper
"I'm 102 years old" he replied
"Well, it's hardly worth your while going home then, is it?"

The bonfire was cancelled due to the inclement weather so we went into the village hall for wine and cakes. Strawberry came too and made some more new friends.

A little later we decided that regardless of the weather we would indeed all go outside and light the bonfire after all. Perhaps the wine played something of a part in this decision.

I tried to encourage the deputy mayoress to play the leading role in my new production of "Joan of Arc" but she wasn't having it. Shame. Everyone else thought that it would be a good idea.

We had a good time talking and telling jokes, all that kind of thing. It really was a nice friendly gathering and represents the best of French village life - something that you probably won't understand if you have never taken part in it. And at midnight, with dogs and children all long-since alseep we all called it a night.

Tomorrow I'm going to have to make up for this by painting the wood for next week and doing the gutttering. I shall have to get my finger out.