In the spring of 2016 the EU referendum was announced. I had many sleepless nights wondering what would happen should Britain vote to leave the EU, although hubby seemed less bothered. “Never in a month of Sundays,” was his confident prediction. As the debate heated up, it became slowly more apparent that the unthinkable might actually happen and we might find ourselves turned overnight into illegal immigrants.

Basil Howitt offers another snippet on the sex life of the Sun King, Louis XIV and, at the end of the local truffle season,  shares his modest acquaintance with truffled dishes and truffle lore. She…

I was out when the Man from Orange reappeared at hubby’s new gate, specially designed to protect the garden from the neighbour’s sheep who roam at will around the area. Hubby couldn’t understand exactly what Man from Orange was saying but inferred from the body language that he was required to switch off the electric fence so the Man from Orange could do some testing or repair work.

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