Ingolt and Kiki gave a party at the Hotel Hostalet inviting their Danish friends, both seasonal and permanent, along with the Catalan neighbors and misc nationalities, in this case, French, Spanish, Australian, English, American and almost Swiss. Barbara and I switched places in her store so she could attend, although the party continued long after closing.

A free concert played at the square behind the house Barbara and I originally owned in the village. A fountain, a bronze pillar with a laurel-covered curly-haired man’s face, is in the center of the square and that is surrounded by planters with pink, white and purple begonias and benches. From the middle ages the fountain (in earlier shapes and designs) supplied the water for the houses surrounding the square. Today people no longer need to fill buckets and carry water into their homes.

The concert over, we stopped by William and Claire Sargeant’s house. He and I wondered if we were relations way way back, because my mother’s maiden name was the same as his, although my branch of the family migrated to the new world in the 1600s but not on the Mayflower.
We ended up eating there.

This Sunday morning I went out to buy a courgette which I want to bake with some left over feta for lunch. I was going to come right back and write, but thought a cup of tea at La Noisette would certainly help in the creative process.

Almost two hours later I had chatted with more than 12 neighbors and friends, some stopping to have coffee. Winde from the cheese shop carried her coffee cup back. Franck supplies the small shops with coffee brought in a ceramic cup and saucer and on a tray (Starbuck's can't do it that way)

A helmeted person went by on a scooter. Robbert!!! is down for the weekend. We caught up on his move, the Swiss train failure (almost unbelievable), and how we could catch the train back to Argelès when I come back down after Geneva and Rome in August, his son and anything else we can think of. Robbert and I shared the company flat in that little Swiss village for almost three years. A friend has described him as the brother I always wanted. It’s a good description. He is also the type of friend who has what I call peelability. Even after 15 years I am still discovering new levels to him and his knowledge.

Finally I head back to the flat to write. Sunday is also the day of Meet The Press, Late Edition, Dateline (BBC), Diplomatic License. Like Dateline the French also air a program where journalists from several countries give their perspective on different stories from around the world. I can get lots of needlework done.

And at one time I was worried I would feel isolated when I was here. To quote my daughter. "Ha!!!!"