Many years ago I read Peter Mayle’s classic A Year in Provence.
At the time I remember thinking ‘Blimey, that’s the life.’ Writing a few hours a day and then trailing around the French countryside the rest of the time.
Hardly a deep, or unique reaction I know. Everyone thought the same, which was why the book went on to sell so many copies and turned Peter Mayle into a rich and famous man.

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