When the weather’s warm and the world is ripe I say goodbye to the social graces, although many will say that my farewell is not entirely seasonal nor recent. Social disgraces continue, however, as I stand in line in a supermarket surrounded by chariots of dire. Impossible not to look and wonder at the simian selective process that allowed someone to filter out the acres of fresh produce whilst piling high the wheeled wire basket with awfulness. I have to say that endless sport, the Jubilee and the Olympics have put me in such a foul mood that I have ceased to find excuses for anyone but myself. Funnily enough, whilst driving to the supermarket, I passed through a tiny village that was filled to bursting with hundreds of people who had come to say good bye to a someone they all new who had just died. The mourners were dressed for summer, not for sadness and driving past this calm crowd cheered me up no end. On the way back from the shopping I passed through the same village that had seamlessly returned to the traditional emptiness that is the hallmark of a truly French community. There was no sign that an interment had taken place. No weary grave diggers leaning on their shovels, no weeping mourners. It was past midday and they were all at lunch.