By Veronica


The village restaurant now has an assiette in the Michelin guide. A step or two below a star, but still ... Guillaume is on an upward curve. We haven't been for ages but decided to go and try his 25 euro lunch. For once we were not alone in the restaurant; there was a table of six as well. Hopefully the accolade will bring in a bit more custom. Guillaume is a bit of an introvert -- he did venture briefly forth from the kitchen to say hello to us, but if he wants to get further with Michelin he needs to start doing the cheffy round of the tables.

This is the crème de topinambours (Jerusalem artichoke soup) served with a poached egg, the merest squirt of foam, and crispy threads of potato, the perfect finishing touch. Completely delicious, as was the rest of the meal.

We didn't feel like doing much after lunch, so we lazed about all afternoon, undistracted by Twitter, Facebook or anything else other than paper books, since the Internet connection had disappeared this morning. In the evening we went to the Centre Cultural to see a play, Lenga. A combination of song, dance, acrobatics and projected video, about language diversity. An actor from Madagascar, another from South Africa, and a third from Occitanie. The ideas behind it were sound, and the video interviews with the actors' grandparents interesting, but it got a bit wearing after a while. It went on too long, almost two hours and during the last few minutes the lone musician made such a racket, literally screaming against a backdrop of loud thrash metal guitar, that I was within a minute of actually getting up and rushing outside. Luckily he stopped and was treated to a standing ovation while we made our escape as quickly as we could to the peace and calm of a starlit night.

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