Friday, August 2, 2013
Good words make us laugh; good deeds make us silent.
High summer. A group of German painters in the village square. A folkloric festival in the local market town. The whole of France about to close the shutters and sink into a heat drenched stupor.
On our morning walk we meet the ancient priest leaving the old abbey church. The steeple was hit by lightning in last months storms. He takes us into to see a side chapel where building materials are being stacked up. '' Heaven alone knows when they'll start the repairs ". Seems we're not the only ones who have problems with the local tradesmen.
Late at night we head off to an outdoors music festival. A youngish lady in a slightly too short cocktail dress is performing on a stage in front of the town hall. She's backed by three pony tailed gentlemen with guitars. '' Sounds of the Pampas - French folk songs the Argentinian way " says the poster. The youngish lady is very enthusiastic. Her audience, lulled by the heavy heat, less so. A gaggle of toddlers sit in front of the stage clapping with their hands above their heads. Bob and Sophie settle under a table and are soon asleep. They wake briefly when they hear one of the pony tailed gentlemen start to play the castanets.