It’s May and the poppies are blooming in Provence. Their tiny black faces almost obscured by their bright red hats, delicate, vibrant, petals wafting in the breeze. Last year I was in Lourmarin admiring them. This year I should have …

Every year at this time the air smells just that bit fresher, newly unfurled leaves seem greener than you recall, the daffodils are just that bit more dazzling, their trumpets bobbing up and down in the breeze as if announcing …