Autumn in France

It seems perverse to be thinking about last autumn in France; on the one hand the next holiday is beginning to take shape very nicely, thank you - and on the other, it seems to be spring in England, unwary daffodils buffeted by sudden blasts of bitter wind, cold showers and warm sunshine taking turn and turn about.

But there you are: all the time we were in France I was seeing the fall colours, particularly as we drove the long miles of motorway with no chance of photographing the multicoloured curtains alongside. Sometimes it was just one branch catching the sun and flaming bright against the dark green of the tree, but as we turned northwards the colour began to dominate. Great swathes and folds of gold and orange hung against the dark evergreens which lined the hillsides.

The vines too were shifting to their autumn plumage, first peach and apricot, then pink and red.

They were vinifying in Maury as we drove through; we didn't have to leave the car to smell the headiness of the wine to be.