We went to a local Christmas market this weekend and, while I was busy buying my own bodyweight in locally-produced Landaise honey, Léo was busy consuming his bodyweight in garbure (a duck and vegetable soup typical of Southwestern France). The quantities of food that Léo consumes and the enthusiasm with which he does so, are becoming acute sources of embarrassment to me — you would honestly think that he wasn’t fed at home. Sometimes, for example, we drop into a local café at about 11am for a cup of coffee and he orders a three-course ‘menu du jour’. I desperately feel the need to justify his appetite and end up woefully tying myself in knots with comments like: ‘I do feed him at home you know! In fact I feed him extremely well!’. On realising that this sounds horribly pretentious, I might add: ‘When I say extremely well, obviously I mean, you know, normally. Well not out-of-a-packet normally, but, errr, very healthily’. Of course I end up sounding like a furiously back-pedalling crazy person who should probably learn when to shut up.