The magnificent Provençal spring rolls in and so do the out-of-towners. From April to June, the Lubéron Valley fills with the sights and sounds of Englishmen and Parisians, who disrupt the sublime tempo of buds and blossoms. Like the locals, Peter and Annie Mayle are amused by the invaders' ignorance of the art of Provençal intimacy. Three kisses is the greeting, no matter how dirty the cheek. Conversation is punctuated by the index finger, thrust firmly into the listener's chest unless he is a she. Squeezed shoulders, slapped backs, pummeled kidneys and pinched cheeks are the norm. In Provence, the greater the friendship, the more chance of bodily harm.