Our local French market offers good prices on staple foods. One euro per kilo of juicy oranges. Don’t mention the suck word, though. We’ll start thinking about sexy food again.
So, we turn up to buy our fresh greens and crusty bread as usual and there’s music on the air. What could be nicer on a sunny April morning? Standing outside the town hall there’s a man with an old-fashioned, hand operated barrel organ. His tunes are jolly, toe-tapping melodies. Locals are joining in. Somebody has handed out plastic folders with the words and everybody seems to know the songs. Here’s a snatch.
The bird on the wire was not mightily impressed. Maybe he’d been stood up. Maybe his lady love had wandered off to inspect what some other guy was offering. Or maybe he was just waiting for the music to stop so he could begin his calling again.
We listened to the singers for a while, then took our purchases home and had another coffee. We bought some small spring onions. Would you like to see?
Such a shame we couldn’t find any big ones.
As I said already – the joys of living in France!
