I've often dreamed of moving to Europe, so I enjoyed the descriptions in this book of the countryside, the food, and the houses and Mayle is often witty. I'll give him that. But I couldn't help feeling annoyed with his whingeing on about his situation. He and his wife obviously have plenty of money; enough to buy a big, beautiful, old house with a swimming pool and then to pay a bunch of people to work on it while they spend their time eating, drinking wine, and pretending to be locals. What's to complain about? Well, Mayle finds quite a bit: The "tourists"(Mayle's term for non-French people who visit Provence who are not Mayle), visitors who take up his time when he really needs to be drinking wine and supervising his staff, the weather, and the Provencal lifestyle which frustrates Mayle with it's slow pace. It's not surprising that he eventually moves home to Britain. And although it's common to find this attitude in travelogue-type books, I found his descriptions of the local people to be rather condescending in an "oh, aren't they quirky and quaint!?" way.