Once upon a time I was a food bore. Nothing artificial, processed or tampered with in any way passed my lips and I was, as my friends inform me now, bloody dull because of it. This I should point out includes alcohol; a liquid so highly revered in Provence that even the unlabelled bottles for 2euros in the supermarket have a bronze medal of excellence. It was during university that I started to expand my natural obsession to skin care – I was so concerned what was going in me, did it not make sense to investigate the natural alternatives as to what goes on me too? Now we come to today and a tiny bit of paper I found at the bottom of a very large pile – Half an hour later and my first jar of Fennel Foot Scrub was ready to go (In the whole of the Bourrade estate I couldn’t find a single Mint plant).Everyone I meet here in Provence finds it very funny that I’m 28. ‘Oh!’ they say ‘We thought you were 21!’ …now this sounds like a compliment but its really not. When I relate (rather smugly) to Caroline that the train ticket lady asked me if I had a student pass (Under 25) Caro replies ‘Oh but it’s because you are so scruffy!’ Great. In France Women only wear trainers if doing sport. I have yet to see anyone – young or old, doing sport or not – in a hoodie or tracky bums. They always brush their hair and the aim is to look ‘classic’ and ‘chic’ NOT cool. In short they think English girls are trendy at best, ridiculous of the most part. Case in point – With all this in mind Number Three on my new years resolutions list is now to ‘make the best of myself” and aim for Emmanuelle Seigner rather than a Jack Wills clad teenager.