Does my bum look slightly less gigantic in this?

Owing to the unbelievably shite inclement weather currently being inflicted upon us, there haven't been many opportunities to wear my new bikini. That is, if I had actually climbed off my dimpled arsecheeks and waddled to the shops to purchase one. Which I haven't yet. Just can't seem to muster up the enthusiasm for a tearful afternoon of despondency, dejection and ultimate disappointment.

To ease the pain of this expedition, I thought I might wait until the Soldes de L'ete (The Summer Sales) - at least that way, I may still be a lardy bloater, but hopefully not quite so skint. As with many other French ways, the sales are strictly regulated - and they often all occur at the same time which leads to unedifying scrums and scraps and frequent Gendarme mediation at the bigger shopping meccas. Any self-respecting French summer-sale-attendee will have in their Kit de Soldes, a bulletproof vest (Decathlon do a nice one), gas mask, and pair of stout shoes in which to outrun the water cannon. I jest. I'm just trying to put you off, so that I can nick all the bargains. Most sales start on 25th June and are permitted to run for six weeks only. The date is actually set by The Prefect of the department, so it is best to check here for your specific area.

The local farmers are moaning about the weather. They are cutting their winter feed and leaving it on the ground to dry, only to have rain pouring down on it...and it starts to rot. One old codger told us this week (can't remember the French but the English translation is roughly) Mud in May is followed by dust in August. I bloody well hope so. And Lord knows what all this water is doing to the vines...this years vintage might be a slightly diluted tipple! Now, that is a worrying thought.