One of the pleasures of being in France is getting to know the region; its flora, fauna and vineyards. No sign of a hoopoe yet but plenty of vineyards.
Château de Terride is one of the hundreds of vineyards here that sell from the door. They had a wedding on Friday and here’s the bridal bower.
My French isn’t brilliant but I do know two words: terroir, cépage. I deployed them and Madame shrugged her shoulders – “c’est un mélange, un peu de tout”. The terroir is limestone and gravel. We bought fizzy white, still rosé and a case of sweet white. They make red but there is better elsewhere.
When I lived at Barmeath I shot with a Valmet (Finnish) 12 bore belonging to my grandfather. I expect my brother still has it. The forend had primitive notches carved into it. They marked where my grandfather should put his thumb when wearing coats of different thickness. It had a boxlock and over and under barrels. I think it had chopper lumps. There’s a snap of my grandfather watching me shooting with it that was in The Drogheda Independent that I may show you another day.
You can find out for yourself what chopper lump barrels are but I will tell you something about The Drogheda Independent. Way back, when it was called The Drogheda Argus, a young Dave Allen used to go there with one of his brothers who was a photographer for the paper. He lost the top joint of one of his fingers in the printing press and used this as a feature in his comedy routine – often to illustrate a sawn-off shotgun. His other props were a cigarette and a tumbler of whiskey. So there you are.