Our Monday destitutional

Mrs Davey and I set out boldly for Pessac town centre for our Monday morning destitutional. (You'd understand why we call it that if you saw the state we're in). Anyway we tottered smartly up to our favourite square, Pessac Monteil, where the JWs have their hall, then round by the railway line and back along the vines to our place.

We saw our ideal little house for a few years' time - looking out over the vines, very quiet and private but 50 yards from the bus stop and very near the centre of town.

We passed a woman who returned our greetings politely ("Bonjour !" / "Sieur-Dame!"). I smiled at her when we passed each other again on our return journeys - then we both turned round and said .." C'est vous !"

It was one of the teachers at DEFLE, the one who ran the creative writing workshops where Dustin and I collaborated on a rather Pythonesque tale of horror and hope in the archipelago of dragons.

She said "I was thinking of you the other day. The Director of DEFLE (the Spanish lady didn't last long...) has asked me to put together a selection of the best texts over the five years we've run the workshop and publish it. When it's done I'd love to send you a copy."

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