Sunday, September 21, 2014
The Air France strike enters its second week. No incoming flights to disturb our morning reverie. Seven thirty. We head off to the foire aux vins at the supermarket. Once or twice a year the big chains sell off their stocks at a 20-30% discount. This is when the canny French buy their wine. Angus arrives just before the door opens. Ten minutes later, the car park is full and the aisles crowded. The early bird gets the worm or in this case four cases of Pomerol.
Bob and Sophie are decidedly unhappy that their morning trip to the cafe under the arcades has been delayed. Their owner gets a reproachful look. When we do finally arrive the beer and absinthe crowd are in their usual positions. The lady with the blue dressing gown is today wearing a new pair of curly toed orange slippers festooned with blue baubles. These would not be out of place in renaissance Florence. The illicit half croissant is mercifully still available.
The Very Old Farmer accepts the twice daily visit from the district nurse but rejects the 'meals on wheels ' and home help services as 'interfering women'. In the afternoon ' the font ' has a brief chat with him. Later he's seen on his ancient tractor careening across the village green towards his vegetable patch. His lifetime ban from driving seems to have been forgotten.