The weather when we set out from Barbansais was foul and the rain persisted all day. The traffic around Paris was awful. One boy racer dodging in and out of lanes spun his vehicle in front of us on the wet road but by a miracle nobody, least of all us, collided with him. We weren't so lucky just 20 kilometres from journey's end at Zeebrugge when I ploughed into two cars at traffic lights thanks to brakes which it has to be admitted were not in peak condition.

The drivers were philosophical about it and the Belgian police were positively charming and we still caught the ferry so it was not all bad.

The car has now gone off for inspection and I suspect the insurers will decide that the economic answer is to scrap it rather than repair it.

The first week back has been pretty good. I've started redecorating the flat with Connor's help. Curtains have been thrown out and the carpets are scheduled to follow. With fresh paint on the walls in addition the lingering smell of tobacco from the previous occupants will soon be gone.

I've started rehearsing Caucasian Chalk Circle. The production has suffered various cast losses so it's a bit fraught and I didn't do the director any favours by being out of sorts one evening for reasons having nothing to do with the show but I hope to make amends.

Connor is meeting considerable obstacles in what you would think is the simple matter of opening a bank account thanks to the UK's anti money laundering regulations. The fact that he has no money to launder doesn't seem to count.

We went to the RSNO's first concert of the season last night. It was a splendid rendition of Mahler's Resurrection symphony. Very large forces were marshalled with the chorus filling the organ gallery to overflowing. Lovely music but as Connor pointed out no tunes to hum as you head for the Filmhouse bar afterwards.

I've been a bit busy over the last ten days fitting in "final" games of golf and dinners and drinks with various friends who were kind enough to want to entertain me before I left for the winter. I also had a fleeting visit from Karl and Lissie who were so charmed by the area last year that they came back for a week's hiking around and about the valley of the Creuse. I picked them up in Anzème at the end of a hard day's walking, took them home, fed and watered them and dropped them off the following day near La Celle Dunoise.

At the weekend I was in Paris visiting Sylviane who is an old friend from my Institut Francais d'Ecosse days. She was performing in an evening (it was actually a whole day but I only went for the evening) of short plays. Hers was A Bourgeois Wedding by Brecht and was the best prepared of those that I saw. I thought the others could have done with a bit more rehearsal. Many of the actors in them were a bit shaky on the lines and gave me a far more amateur impression than I had expected. It was after all a professional theatre although most of the actors were amateurs.

Connor joined me in Paris. Sightseeing there was not altogether up his street but he did enjoy the food. He's been charmed by the Creuse however.

Up at the crack of dawn tomorrow for final water draining and suchlike then it's off to Zeebrugge for the ferry.

Edinburgh on Saturday and winter life begins. I'm sure it will be as enjoyable as summer has been. Vive la différence!

This is Germanicus's triumphal arch at Saintes. It may be that he mastered the course there rather better than I did or on the other hand maybe he triumphed by raping and pillaging since that was considered more fun than golf at the time.

To get there I chose a route that took me through much of the area that we explored when we were looking for a house. There are some lovely spots but on the whole I think we are better off here. During the few days I was there I managed to visit the coast and dabble my tootsies in the Gironde estuary. The weather at the beach was gorgeous and since the season is essentially over it was not overcrowded.

On the way back I took in Cognac and Angouleme. I was very struck with the wynds and alleyways of the latter. A very pleasant place to wander around.

Until the other day I had been congratulating myself (undeservedly since the happy circumstance surely was not my doing) on there having been no wasps (I really mean ZERO) in the house or garden all summer long. Last year we had to get the fire brigade in to clear a nest from the roof and the year before the wasps commandeered an old mole hole in the garden and we had to have the nest dug up by an intrepid wasp catcher. In parentheses I should say, with apologies to Kenneth Grahame, that mole is public enemy number 1 and what we desperately need is an intrepid molecatcher.

Now I have seen two wasps in as many days. Perhaps this is the result of the recent resurgence of fine weather. July was a scorcher but August rather cooler and damper than seemed proper until its final days. Not cold though I did put on a pair of trousers one morning instead of shorts. By early afternoon I was regretting that decision but by then I was on the golf course and not in a position to change matters.

Although this morning is rather overcast my neighbour assures me that September's weather is forecast to be fine so the last three weeks of my villégiature, as the French have it, should be pleasant.

One creature other than the mole that we are not short of is the spider. It's an ongoing struggle to clear the house of webs. I grew quite fond of this one. He's on the large side compared to most. I suppose a two to three inch legspan. He spent the summer quietly in my bedroom lazing the days away behind the wardrobe and settling down at night by my bedside presumably to feed on passing insects or to digest those trapped in his web during the day. Ultimately though in a frenzy of housekeeping he has gone. I'm sure the winter would have killed him off anyway.