I took the opportunity of Rita bending down to pat the dogs at breakfast to sneak up and Pinch’n’Punch her. July goes to me!

In the mid-morning, the girls got ready to play their market gig. Even though the site was only about 100 metres away from the house, it was decided that I should take all the instruments down in the Scenic. But Port Vendres is full of narrow, one-way streets, so George offered to come with me as navigator. About a kilometre later, we reached the site to unload (having side-swiped a concrete bollard along the way). The girls then set up, and were later joined by the singer from last night (who owned the building in front of which they were playing). It was not in the market itself, but was on a sidewalk which many people used to get to and from the market, so they got a substantial passing audience. Strangely, no one put a hat out for donations (the customs for buskers in France must be different!)

While the girls continued playing, George decided to take me for a stroll down to the fish market to get provisions for tonight’s dinner. Port Vendres is a fishing town so the range of offerings was good, and the fish market was very popular.

In the afternoon, as George prepared dinner, the girls and I went for a walk up the coast to the neighbouring town of Colioures. The walk along the coastline was along a narrow, bush-lined track, but the arrival at Colioures was worth it, with the sheltered harbour and castle making an immediate impression.

We walked down to the waterline and made our way around one half of the inlet and then over to the beach area in the shadows of the castle.

As usual, Rita was on the lookout for sites where the band might play next year, and this tree-covered area provided protection, an audience and a great view.

After we got back to the house in Port Vendres, many of us found time for a "granny nap”, while George finished preparations for dinner. That evening, we were treated to a French dinner party, with last night’s singer (Pierre) and a friend of his joining us. The evening started out like any dinner party, with comments on the food and drink and general polite conversation. Then Pierre and Valerie got into a discussion about the best French ballad singers (I guess in Australia we would be talking about 80’s rock bands or favourite footy teams!), which then moved onto a discussion on social and political issues, and from there the discussion took off in all directions. Three of us said very little (me because I couldn’t, and the other two because they didn’t want to). There was lots of hand gestures, interruptions, raised voices and emotion (it reminded me of going to an Italian opera; lots of sound and fury, but no idea of what was being said). I resisted the temptation to check on the scores in the Speedway World Cup on my phone, but as midnight approached, I took the opportunity of a visit to the bathroom to grab an early night, by going to my room rather than back to the table.