Monday, August 12, 2013
Dripping water hollows out stone , not through force but through persistence.
The Monday morning market already busy by the time we get there. Parisian second home owners with their large estate cars taking up the parking spaces. Cashmere cardigans flung across shoulders. Bob, Sophie and Angus squeeze the little Skoda into a space between an enormous Peugeot and a badly parked Audi 4x4.
Our first decision of the day - Langouste or prawns for the risotto ? We settle on prawns. Onto the Italian delicatessen. Bob agrees with me that fig and ham ravioli sounds too sweet. Four cheeses it is. At the greengrocers a dozen varieties of local tomatoes. ' The font ' will be making cooling spaghetti and raw tomatoes for lunch.
The market staff talk away happily to Bob and Sophie. The Parisians stare with that superior look that's reserved for country bumpkins or lunatic foreigners who discuss tonights dinner menu with their dogs.