Still living the country life. For the past three days, the weather has been sparkling and the land is covered and scented with broom, in addition to the modest wildflowers at the level of the roadside, where I mostly look when I am climbing a hill on my bike. It’s not that the landscape isn’t spectacular - the Dentelles de Montmirail to the west and to the east, the Mont Ventoux.

Yesterday was a rest day, and our neighbour, Paul, thought it was a good day to show us his attic again, especially the crib his father made for him 94+ years ago and a toy wheelbarrow, both cobwebbed and dusty and wormy, but bursting with memories he was happy to share. (Paul is an important person in my new book Apple Thieves coming out in August). My daughter is expecting a baby later this year, and the cradle is for him, though I don’t quite picture her sitting by an open hearth by lantern light, rocking it with her foot, much as I like the idea of it. But first it needs to be dewormed. At the moment both cradle and wheelbarrow are sitting in the yard.

Beverley Bie Brahic