We only come home for the sunsets.

Back in the swing of things and with a list of "things to do" a mile long, all to be done before the arrival of the TV crew on Monday, we set about in the nicest possible way avoiding even looking at it.

This was an easy thing to do as it seemed the Port had fallen apart in our absence. Our Tony needed "help fixing roof", and didn't have to ask twice when he suggested "getting groceries before" which would of course involve a nice drive in his car.

Tony, bless him decided in the spirit of sharing some of his ten years experience on the continent, to instruct me on the finer points of buying fuel from a fully automatic machine. After I had showed him where to place his card, the menu buttons on the keypad, instructed him to remove the card, key in his pin, replace the fuel nozzle and collect his receipt, he considered me almost fully trained and asked if perhaps he could give me lessons next time as well, just to see if I'd got it all.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Richard had a plumbing problem, Tony's roof needed an afternoon of surgery, Maggie's deck needed sketching, Jacque's boat moving, and Captain Jojo was feeding anything or anyone that moved or even looked as though it might move at some time in the future.

That was of course before there were aperitifs on someone's boat to watch the sun go down around ten, which turned into full blown drinks and in the French manner enough food to sink a smaller ship.

By the time the church clock was thinking about striking single digit hours again, we sought refuge in our bed, determined that tomorrow we'd actually start on the list.