After the golf yesterday I set off with my prize of a bottle of red to the little village of La Celle Dunoise to attend a birthday barbecue. It was a lovely setting in a garden leading down to the river from a rather splendid 1920's residence. Unfortunately it rained intermittently and rather more on than off.

I stayed relatively dry myself not only because I had a drive of around 30 kilometres ahead of me to get home but in an attempt to balance my intake at the two social events that I had attended in my own village earlier in the week.

These were crowned late on Thursday evening by a substantial tumbler of Laphroaig served with a remark about how being Scottish I must like whisky and so on. Now as it happens I do like whisky and Laphroaig is one of my favourites so it would have been churlish to refuse.

But it would have been wise.