Champignons pour tous!

A different trip…hey ho

For our second trip away together, I’d booked us into a charming (fingers crossed) little b&b near Montpellier — l’Auberge aux Volets Verts — ostensibly for daughter L, aged four-and-a-bit, and new boyfriend Mr McG, thirty-four-and-a-bit, to get to know each other.

The Auberge was run by a young man who was obviously in the throes of a brand new red-hot fling. The two had very little time for us, which suited us fine.

They could also only cook one thing: the most delicious porcini mushrooms fried in garlic.

By the fourth evening of porcini mushrooms however, we were trying to force-feed them to passing wildlife. (I can confirm that cats don’t like porcini mushrooms. Especially not fried.)

The couple also only played one album throughout our stay. VERY loudly. Jacques Higelin’s Champagne pour tous... We grew to love it. (It was either that or smash it over someone’s head.)

L took over responsibility for all their animals, letting the dogs out in the mornings, feeding the chickens and goats, brushing the cats and giving the donkey carrots.

She complained about Willy l’Abrador occasionally knocking her over and about having to drag an overweight and over-friendly cat called Souris off her bed every night, but other than that, it was deemed a jolly good holiday by all.