When you are chased by a wolf you call the boar your uncle.

Time for a quick drink from the hosepipe before we set off into town. Bob sticks his head right under the jet , gulping down the water . His head soon soaked . Sophie does her best to drink without getting wet.

The annual garlic auction. Three days when the worlds garlic aficionado's descend on our little patch of paradise. Most of the action taking place in a large steel shed on the outskirts of town.  Ever eager to catch a stray tourist  a variety of stalls selling 'decorated' garlic have appeared on the road that leads to the church.  Business this morning is slow. A poster informing us that the world garlic peeling contest will be held under the market hall roof this evening. We buy two twists of fresh garlic, one of white the other  purple. Bob and Sophie find the whole thing fascinating. Their favourite part ? The garlic sausage stall.