You can tell summer’s here. The aisles in the markets are full of summer visitors and lots of them are children, eating pastries in their push chairs or tagging along at the side wearing that out of school for the next two months face.
At Clermont l’Hérault, the Wednesday market features in one of Mick Alec Idlelife’s stories. He’s currently working on reformatting a collection of stories with unusual endings for ebook publishing. There’ll be more news about him soon.
In the meantime, here’s what we saw (pun intended) today at the market.
It looks like an ordinary saw. It’s amazing the notes he can saw from it and the sounds carry so far . . .
We filled our bags with fresh fruit and vegetables. All the seats on the pavement café behind the stall were taken.
Himself went next door and helped himself at the sausage man’s stall. The sausage man knows us now. When he sees himself coming, he gets out a big bag. The aromas, the colours and the sounds of a French market are always a delight.
And would you believe it? We found a new bar, or at least a recently refurbished one. Neither of us had noticed it before, but today, large and welcoming, a fifties style retro diner with a terrace overlooking the market canopies. So, of course, it had to be done, didn’t it? Up the stairs to a view over the market. The ideal spot for people watching.
A writer always watches people. Look at these two. Are they together? Or did two people wearing hats like that just happen to stop at this stall at the same time? What is she looking at? What is he looking at? I know ‘cos I was there.
I think not.
This picture is crying out for a caption. Why don’t you send me some ideas? Just for the fun of it. I’ll look forward to that.
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