Yup – the enormous ridge of high pressure that’s been sitting on us like a big, fat, high-pressure hot thing is still here.
There’s a filthy rumour that it might pretend to snow on Wednesday, but I’m remaining cynical.
And I’m sure that there are loads of absolutely scintillating peices of gossip floating around resort, but sadly I’ve been getting as much sleep as possible in the sleep-bank, which has seriously inhibited my rumour-mungering.
Still, I promise to spend more time hanging about the Fer à Cheval eavesdropping and less time repairing my fragile constitution with gallons of sleep.
In the meantime, here’s a picture of Max and Jack at the top of Plan du Fou. Bless.