Can you tell what it is yet?

To add to the overall vibe, Airvault is, this weekend, home to the world's largest didgeridoo festival! I know that sounds simply crap, but believe me. It's not. It's loud too! Just over the hedge from our enclave is a rock festival attended by thousands of bawdy French fans of aboriginal folk roots. Honestly.

So for the last two nights we've been regaled by sub-Rolf riddims at a deafening throb until about 2am and the occasional incursion past the Joan, the Kamp Kommandant, of a couple of stoned French hippies... (Oh Boy they won't be back! I discovered that I'd double-ordered our pain au raisin this morning by mistake but felt obliged to buy them all when Joan gave me, what can only be described as, that look!)

Anyway, we took a tootle into town yesterday. We thought that, seeing as Airvault is hosting a sort of quasi-Antipodean/Gallic Glastonbury it but be thrang with all sorts of interesting characters. Of course, when we pulled into town, despite the omnipresent throb of amped up didgeridoos and Stylophones permeating the air, Airvault was completely desolate, with every window shuttered and every hatch battened down. Even the tumbleweed had gone south for its holidays.

It was a bit like the beginning of I Am Legend, except without the tigers. And Will Smith.

Today is Sunday. We will be mostly playing table tennis (although I did manage to crush my balls yesterday), swimming in the pool (which is crystal clear but secretly decanted from antidiluvian permafrost) or playing gin.

Oh by the way, the picture above is of Lisa being trained up by the home guard. We've all had to do a stretch on the perimeter on hippy-watch. Not that many casualties so far.