We are now at Tremolat, the confluence of the Dordogne and Velèze river, ancient trading post, pirate hang out and all round too cute romantic hideaway, it ticks all the boxes of a French country holiday a la "A Year in Provence". It truly feels like the deep south right now, amazingly so since the month of August was a disaster here. They have not yet started the "Vendange" (harvest of the grapes) because of that are now trying to seize another couple of weeks of good weather from mother nature in order to ensure the proper ripening of the sugars which will enable them to make a wine that is robust and moderately high in alcohol and acidity to combat all the fatty goodness on sale everywhere. Diners are arriving by now (just past 7 pm) , lots of "Bonsoirs!" kisses and "welcome backs" from the front desk staff. I have a glass of Bergerac red wine and there are some wall nuts placed on a little folding table in front of me. Wall nuts are everywhere here, in their cooking, their sauces and even in a digestive and liquor. Dinner tonight will be served outside since the weather has been so nice, as a couple walks up to the entrance of the hotel I hear the maître d'hôtel mention the "Septembre remarkable" (this remarkable September), apparently we are lucky. The place I am writing at feels like a million miles away from the grasp of anyone, nobody knows anybody. Anybody could be anybody or nobody.The cast has been set, the scenery is ready, let the play commence.