Wednesday 2nd January

All of yesterday I was disoriented, it felt as if my brain were in someone else’s head and I couldn’t quite connect.  I must admit I had a few drinks on New Year’s Eve, maybe 4 glasses of wine in total, which for me is a lot, but I don’t think it was just the drink.  We saw the New Year in twice; once in the square in Eymet and then an hour later on BBC2 with Jools.

The town was dead, I mean absolutely dead.  At 8.30 Café de Paris was closing.  There was a posh dinner at Couer D’Eymet at 29 euros a head but nothing else was open.  We tried the Tortoni and though they only had four customers they said they would stay open a bit longer.  The French, at least here in the provinces spend New Year with the family over a big meal.  In the end there were just five of us in the only bar open and all of ex-pats and the town misfits.  There was James, the old man with the beard who graciously will accept a drink from anyone, Gareth the Welsh pipe-smoking loner, and Bill the Teetotal Brewer who makes the foulest real ale I have ever tasted.  We chatted until 10.30 and were duly ejected.

But suddenly the square started to wake up as people gathered, and there outside the Tourist office were three old ladies making crepes, and serving hot mulled wine.  Then at twelve we all walked to the ruined chateau for fireworks.  Lovely, and quite different too.

But the next day I was totally disoriented all day; it was as if I had a blanket over my head so everything felt fuzzy.  I was flying back too, which made my mood somewhat more dull.  The flight was fine, though I could hardly remember it at all later.  Home by 8.30 and I watched the news channels and fell asleep during Match of the Day (as usual); in many ways quite a wasted day really.