One of the real luxuries of being momentarily without guests is that one can wander around first thing with a coffee in the dressing-gown and snap things.

From the terrace this morning Canagou is showing his first light dusting of snow

So many of the French now look for teas for breakfast, mainly Herbal Tissanes (which I call Horrible Teas) that we have to keep a large selection
of Teapots on the go- mind you we do persuade some of them to have a decent cup of Barry’s.

And there, at the end of the line of tea-pots a veritable Franco-Hibernian Nature Morte. Two pomegranates foraged here, and a slíothar foraged
in our back garden in Waterford which backed on to the local GAA pitch.