Time to write a brief tribute to my adopted rural home -- Sancerre. Just back from a glorious weekend. Saturday lunch in the town square at the Auberge Joseph Mellot . Menu du jour consisted of veal kidneys in mustard sauce (very red and juicy) , followed by home-made redcurrant tart, all washed down with a glass of red Sancerre. Total price - 12 euros 50. Staggeringly good value. After that a stroll through the vineyards, now bedding down for the winter, culminating in a hill-top view back towards the "piton" of Sancerre and the Loire behind. What could be finer? In summer or autumn the approach to Sancerre on the word from Bourges, passing down a classic avenue of poplars, is an experience to be cherished. The country may be going down the tubes, but where else can you get that kind of magic. By the way there is a popular French language school in Sancerre, to which I might as well give a bit of free publicity as it is supposed to be rather good. It takes in paying visitors (mainly US and English, often families) and promises to turn them into regular Francophones.

Coat of arms of Béarn

Just back from long hols shared among the three 'B's: Berry, Béarn and Brittany. As every year, faith in France largely restored after driving again through some of the most glorious, varied, bountiful countryside in the world. I find it wonderful how the regions of France still treasure their identity. Take the Béarn -- a tiny area of the Pyrenees just to the east of the Basque country. It's not on any administrative or geographical map, but everyone knows where it begins and ends. It was the French bit of the old kingdom of Navarre, from where the country's favourite king Henri IV hailed. His memory is kept very much alive -- as is that of those semi-fictional characters, The Three Musketeers. Dumas based most of his protagonists on real-life figures, and there were indeed three bodyguards of Louis XIII called -- more or less - Athos, Porthos and Aramis. We were camping in the village of Aramits -- where Aramis's manor can still be seen. Local people very independent-spirited, and not altogether fond of the neighbouring Basques. Francois Bayrou, heads of the centrist UDF party, is from Béarn. Anyway -- enough romance. Now it's the rentrée, back to Paris and the inevitable blues. Let's hope the Sarko-Ségo show provides some entertainment.