Worth a mint - sage advice from the South of France
Towards the end of a recent stay in the South of France we ventured out one evening to catch an impromptu performance by a local chanteuse. Perched at the bar it wasn’t long before a Calvados was slammed down in front of me. Calvados is the traditional after dinner digestif, so it has become tradition that you are automatically served it. At the end the set the rather florid lady sitting next to me turned and asked if I had enjoyed the show. I replied positively. Then frowning down at my glass enquired as to why I wasn’t drinking my Calvados. I explained that it gave me heartburn, which is true; it is also true that I don’t care for it much but to admit this would be tantamount to treason. She said that she would see what she could do for my problem. I replied that I wasn’t sure she could do anything but thanked her profusely. Through a thick cloud of blue Gitanes smoke she informed me that she was the local doctor and to be at her office at 10am sharp. The following morning I dutiful...