The French, God Bless them, are very much creatures of habit.
One can be bombing along the motorway, black with traffic, when all of a sudden there are just a few cars, and those driven by mad dogs and Irishmen.
Fear not, world war three has not been announced ,it just means the hands of the clock have moved to 12 noon and the nation of France has gone to lunch.

In the same way the French spend most of July and all of August anticipating La Rentrée which is the moment when school children go back to school.
But it is much more than that.
It is the official ending of summer, the official begining of winter.

Go to the beach on the first of September and it will be deserted except by the odd D, GB, or NL- clearly mad dogs .

In the village, people will start wearing fleeces, the men will be back in long trousers and the ladies will be wearing their latest boots.
C’est la rentrée.

I think all this is starting to rub off on me.
Today is a little cloudy, temperatures have dropped to 26 or 27C and I am begining to wonder if there might be a touch of Autumn in the air.
This on a day which in Ireland would be greeted as a scorcher !

Anyway today our last official guests of August departed and only daughter Eileen and her boyfriend Phil remain.
On Sunday we all head off to Ireland where Síle and I are having a few days of family time (an exhausting few days with a tightly packed schedule) before coming back to Thezan.

Looks like I may have to wear long trousers and socks for the first time since April.
C’est la rentrée.