My sister’s former partner has cousins in St Brieux. We used to visit them, out on the farm. I remember one winter I got taken on a snowmobile rally (couldn’t move the next day), was given “moose milk” (homebrew) to drink, fired a .303 for the first time in my life (at a hay bale), danced the night away in the local hall (man, can those farm boys polka!), and had my one and only ever light plane ride – all in St Brieux.