Not Mean or Undernourished

While lazing in a hammock in the Provençal shade, and especially while eating poor food in mediocre restaurants in a country that used to glory in the finest food culture in the world, I thought of grouse. We had a splendid holiday, but missing the Lords test match, the opening of the grouse season and many Prom concerts could be considered bad management. I have been home a week now and am making up for lost time. A couple of days ago I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth birthday and three of us were able to contemplate the prospect of our declining years with a degree of equanimity, fortified as we were by some excellent roast grouse and a suitably venerable bottle of Burgundy.