As the song goes, “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape. You don’t spit into the wind. You don’t pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger, and you don’t . . . “ Well, we did anyhow. It’s not that we didn’t know better than to travel in France (the world’s most visited country) during the months of July and August, it’s just that the month of July is when our literary society meets annually, and this year it met in France. I won’t say much about this year’s conference except that the venue was a holiday camp lacking air-conditioning and that that the weather was exceptionally hot. Post-conference, Kay and I spent ten days in southwest France, and they are the subjects of this missive.