Wrong! Didn't land at Toulouse at all. Time rubs the edge of accuracy . Bordeaux it was, where we picked up a very nice little Renault 5, and set off down the road towards Toulouse. No satnavs of course, and navigating with an old fashioned map. To cut a long story short, we found Rangeuil, and the Elf petrol station which was the indicator that we were below the flat. Great welcome from Linda and Patrick. Linda's job was teaching air traffic controllers and pilots English. Pretty important when you think about it. Patrick worked with space satellites, I think working on software. Patrick was soon back from work, we sat on the balcony to wait for him. He arrived, and we launched in to our first ever meal on French soil. Always an experience. Aperitifs and Digestifs must be taken into consideration. And three hours must be set aside. Happy memories. M et Mme Moreau were...
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Love bade me welcome
Several years ago we visited Little Bemerton, not far from Salisbury. George Herbert, priest and metaphysical poet, died there in 1633 - loved and lamented by his parishioners. This is one of my favourite poems. A conversation between the poet and Love - representing God Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything. ‘A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here.’ Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, I cannot look on thee.’ Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’ ‘Truth Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat :’ So I did sit and eat.
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