Redbush Tea, Kylie and Thyme

After dropping the offspring at school I drove to La Bussiere (10 kms out of Saint Savin) where I look after some very kind people. I inevitably talk about food when I'm there because Madame Renard may have some difficulties getting about but she manages to be an excellent cook and her house is always full of the odour of bonne cuisine. After discussing the merits of thyme when added to sauces, meat dishes and soups she scuttled out with her zimmerframe specifically to dig some up for me to take home and plant. It's no wonder I always leave there hungry but in a happy mood.

After the weekend's spectacular weather today was overcast and humid and I abandoned the garden to finally confront the dreaded tax. It was a welcome distraction from boring paperwork to receive a visit from our friend Chantal and her sister Beatrice who inspected the progress of the potager and garden and were suitably impressed with what has been done. I introduced them to redbush tea and in my indequate french attempted to explain the books of Alexander Mccall Smith and Botswanese Mama Ramotswe and her ladies detective agency in Gaborone and the reason why this tea has now become so popular in the UK. It was one of those many moments since our arrival here when I wished I had never opened my mouth. However confused they were, though, the tea was greatly appreciated.

I restrained myself from visiting Teresa for fear I'm becoming somewhat obsessed. I did survey the chickens a couple of times from a distance when fleeing from the tax and Teresa was nowhere to be seen which means she must still be sat in the nesting box on her now defunct and empty nest. As much as I was trying not to worry about this I am obviously concerned. I don't know whether psychological therapy would be a good thing for her - or for me.

I am pleased as a native to Australia that the French have bestowed an honour on our Kylie. She is hugely popular here and always gets our household vote.