Julie's parents arrived in the afternoon and I was quite impressed that they managed to get as far as Rouchechuart without getting lost, then called me to say where they were. We met in St. Mathieu amid some worries of not seeing each other ("Ce pas de probleme et très façile parce-que j'ai la seule Citroën anglais a Limousin") and wandered back to Au Vieux Chataignier. After some deliberation we agreed they'd stay here - it was the least I could do after their hospitality in Québec - and then decided we'd go out to eat.

We found this fantastic restaurant in Piégut which was part of a local bar/hotel thingie where there were no tourists (they've all gone home anyway) and a local woman who cooked the most fantastic food. We were all fed, wined, watered and Calvadossed (if there is such a verb) for about 300 francs! The food was beyond yummy; I had pâte du maison, confit de canard (with oodles of fat), fromage et dessert. Actuellement, j'ai trois desserts parce-que Adrien et Elaine sont plein.

Oups! J'ecrit en Français. Alors, c'est Franglais mais c'est pas mal. Donc c'est vrai quoi ils sont dit; mon Français est améliorer beaucoup depuis j'ai arriver à août. Aussi, sur la téléphone Geoff à dit la même chose, et apparemment mon accent est improvée aussi. Quelle horreur! C'est toutes les occasions que j'ai demander les chocolatines, je pense.

Anyway. Elaine drove back after the meal because the men (fat fucking chance) had been drinking Calvados, and I'm not sure she enjoyed it. It's an American/European car thing so it's clear that although windscreen wipers might be useful sometimes, they're not particularly good on roads without streetlamps. I pointed out that everything was in the wrong place and we did quite well! The poor little Peugeot hire car did sound as if it was in pain as we drove home and she murdered the clutch, but we got home. Even I understood when she got a little annoyed with her husband and suggested he wouldn't mind walking the rest of the way. It's interesting how these parental differences span cultures as well as generations.

We did some star gazing. That was fun.

They brought me some Pineau Blanc from wherever it is they've been staying (Cognac, if memory serves) which I felt the need to try briefly before bed. Brief being a relative concept when there are homosexuals and alcoholic Québecois involved. Oh yes - all of Piégut knows I'm a faggot now as I took great pleasure in explaining Sydney's Mardi Gras very loudly for all the world to hear.

So. I think they're content. The fact that I'd forgotten to turn their lights off and close their window before we went out didn't seem to phase them. In fact, the opportunity to sleep in a room which had become - in the interim - the hornets' new second home wasn't a problem. Anyway, after enough nerve gas to kill an elephant everything was fine. I was quite surprised that Elaine was quite happy to pick up convulsing hornet corpses, but slightly disturbed that she then gave them to me to flush down the toilet. I tried explaining but I don't think they have frelons à Québec.

I booked my Eurostar tickets to the UK for two weeks' time. AI sent through the purchase order today so all's well. I booked the tickets in French as the person didn't speak any English, so I should be going to England. For all I know, I might've got myself a job in the buffet car handing out chip butties. We'll see. Very bizarre moment when he said "Q pour Québec" when giving me my booking reference. What with my head being full of French Canadian thoughts, I heard this as a question and went on to explain that Québec is indeed very nice and that New Year there was lovely, thankyouverymuch. I think he was amused.

I think, actually, he was more amused by the fact I pronounced Q as cul when repeating the booking reference back to him. Mental note: find an English-speaking osteopath when trying to explain neck pains.