Plastic reminder of the bad old days

There is great joy in being back in our little village in the Languedoc for the summer, even if the lack of broadband becomes ever more apparent and acute each year.

We lend our house frequently to friends, and even somehow those who are less than acquaintances (one year, in a ski chalet, a strange man leant over the dinner table towards me and said “I’ve just worked out that I spent a week in your house in the Languedoc last year”). Thus it is that we often arrive chez nous to find completely mysterious objects in our house...