To live like God in France.

A pony follows us on our morning walk through the village. There's no sign of its owner. When we stop, it stops. At the village green it heads off abruptly towards the Holy Well and the Revolutionary oak. The PONs are completely unfazed by its presence.

It's Angus' birthday. The PONs are told they're going to be left alone to guard the house while we go off for lunch. They wear their '' it's a dogs life " expression.

Five tables set under the arches outside the little restaurant. A Belgian couple in a shiny BMW show up without a reservation. They're told that there's ' simply no room '. Commercialism here in France profonde has yet to catch on.

I usually don't photograph food but

A cold tomato mousse with mozarella 'spume'

Coquilette in orange sauce

and two puddings ( The Font having less of a sweet tooth than Angus )

All for less than the price of four beers in Laguna Beach tells you why the Germans have a phrase '' To live like God in France ".