Was out at supper last night, somewhere to the south of the river Garonne and, as still often happens, managed to get lost. The maize is up and we travelled endlessly down green ravines, following the road that made a right-angle turn at the end of each block and led into yet another utterly featureless run. Before the road became a dead end and we had to retrace our route, the crops changed and had become fruit trees – nectarines, plums, peaches, apricots, kiwi, pears.
When we eventually found our destination. Our host pointed out across the fields the simple modern house of the farmer who owned the thousand+ hectares of land in which we had been lost. The characteristic white van was parked outside it. Apparently all he spends his money on is more land.
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