When we were told that our neighbour’s 18th birthday party was on a “chic et choc” theme, we didn’t know what it meant, but were told we had to put on our party clothes, along with an item that didn’t go, something “un peu choc“. We thought long and hard; wellies? no, Emilie’s mum was going in slippers; a hat or wig? no, her dad was wearing a hat and her brother a wig. Eventually we had an idea and headed to Emmaus, our favourite charity shop, where we found a prettily embroidered, very large bustier for Nick to wear, well padded with socks. To complement this, I would wear one of his ties. It was a shame that very few people outside the immediate family had made any effort – even to be chic, never mind the choc part, but Nick’s outfit caused a great deal of amusement.

Gradually guests began to arrive; the whole, extended family, from babes in arms to Emilie’s grandma, the oldest there at 97 years young. It was nearly 10o’clock by the time things started; the aperos were served, then we sat down to eat at about 11pm. After a glorious week, the heavens had opened in the afternoon and the evening was wet, but the rain stopped around midnight, so we all traipsed out, through the wet grass, to watch a firework display.

The meal was lovely; charcuterie, crudités, salmon and langoustines, roast beef and pork with a salad piedmontaise, cheese, green salad, and birthday cake. By the time we left at 4am, they were nearly ready to serve the coffee. Between courses we’d played plenty of silly games, led by the DJ and watched a film of Emilie’s life so far; a far cry from an English 18th birthday party – plenty of alcohol, but nobody was obviously drunk.

I didn’t go walking on Sunday morning, preferring to catch up on my sleep, but Nick got up at 6.30 to go out cycling, only to find that the forecast was for more rain, so nobody else turned up. He was sheltering from the rain in Aignan when he saw a friend who insisted on taking him home for coffee and to wait till the rain stopped.