Almost missed lunch.

"Tarte Flambee for four please" we replied in perfect French to our waitresses enquiry as to whether we'd like the menu in French or German.

"We only do Tarte Flambee at night" she retorted.

"Well we'll have four plates of the day then" we offered.

"We don't do plate of the day on Sunday"

"Well that's terrific, because it was Friday when we actually started to think about placing our order"

"Ahh yes but this Friday we are being Sunday, and we don't do plate of the day on Sunday".

By now facing certain extinction, we relented and ordered a selection of stunning entrees from the menu, and perhaps a dessert or two, and coffee. Even the joy of eating from Sunday's menu could not disguise that it was the conversation which was the highlight of the day, the conversation of four people who had been friends for as many decades, reunited for a time, soon to separate again.

Tomorrow Cheryl and Ian depart after a week which seemed to comprise just one day, a Sunday at that. It will be Saturday then I'm sure, but it won't be long before Sunday rolls around once more.