Or so your mother told you. And at times it’s a handy quality to have in la belle France too. So whilst waiting on the line for Orange or France telecom (their interpretation of customer service and conception of time as a valuable commodity being somewhat at odds with the remainder of the civilised world), remember to count to ten (you’ll have plenty of time) and take lots of deep breaths. Similarly when enquiring about anything in the electrical department of leclerc (where you’ll find yourself rendered invisible to any assistant you may spy) or attempting to buy even a bloody baguette between the hours of noon and 3pm. In short, a balanced karma is the only way to retain your sanity - and to enjoy all the good stuff as well. Omm.

Under a summer sun, you’ve traipsed around the French countryside looking for that special somewhere. Tout seul, you’ve seen loads of houses, occasionally picking your jaw up from the floor when greeted by spectacular decorative faux pas or the amount that their owners (having seen your rather smart set of wheels) are now asking.  Having got your head around carpeted ceilings, pink sanitary ware and clearly misplaced extra zeros in the prices, it’s back to the air conditioned embrace  of your car and off to the next appointment.

Not being entirely sure of what I was getting into, I decided to take part in a 11 k trail run. Easy I thought, no need for extra training as I run this distance quite easily - and then discovered there was a climb of + 150m involved. After conferring with my “running guru” sister-in-law though, I realised that I run much harder hills at home, so no big deal. After dragging my family to support me and take photos last time, they all suddenly developed really pressing jobs to do at home and couldn’t make it, so off I nervously went.