‘I can’t believe it rains in Bordeaux.’
These were the words I said to the baker on Sunday morning as I handed him two Euros for my loaf of sourdough.
‘It rains more here than in England,’ he replied.
‘C’est pas possible!’ I said pointing my loaf at him like it was a snubnosed machine gun. ‘I was told the sun shines all year round here. Like in the Costa Del Sol.’
‘Par un idiot!’ He waved his arms fiercely in the air. ‘In winter it rains here like it rains grapes at harvest time.’ Continue reading “184 – Weather Update (Bordeaux)”