Last evening the Excellence Rhone slipped its moorings and headed up river, going past us at a rate of knots. On board we could see people in the dining room. It looked very cosy.

But we were cosy on board Liberty too... conserving our battery power, Liz reading by just one light and me reading a novel on my iPad.

This morning we strolled in to town expecting to find the small market in the town square, only to discover the market actually took up a whole street plus square, offering everything from socks to saucissons. If you imagine Wellington's Cuba Street and Mall given over to stalls, you'll have an idea of the scope of the market.

It was, as we'd hoped, colourful, and we snapped photos as well as buying salmon fillets for dinner. If you think quaint morning markets equate cheap prices, think again! There might be the odd bargain, but it probably would be odd; generally speaking the prices are commercial, and when you see the extent of some of the stalls you can perhaps understand why. Some of the butchers' and fishmongers' stalls involved fully-refrigerated display cabinets, almost as though they'd moved their shop into the street.

And - a tip for those who want to question the prices: don't ask for something cheaper. In France, that's not how it's done. Here, you ask for something "less dear", moins cher.

I find it fascinating that an entire nation can base its language, if not its economy, on the premise that everything to begin with is expensive, but some things are less dear.

What if we used that approach to emotions? How are you today? Not bad thanks, I'm less angry than I was yesterday.

Or kindness... Thanks for the gift, it was very less mean of you.

Or imagine love... You take her to a restaurant - something less expensive perhaps - stare into her eyes over the flickering candle and whisper, "I find you hardly disgusting at all."

If I were using this as sketch material for some stand up comedy I'd be on a winner. Thank you, you've been a less than appalling audience. Goodnight.