(Last Week)
Village life at the moment is fantastic.
Family is over to visit, and so mornings or evenings are spent on get-togethers. The heat is stifling though, and you have to feel for the tourism staff out in the sun making pancakes in 32°C with a smile. It is even a struggle, to be honest, to have a walk through the village in the afternoon. As with the rest of the crowds, thoroughfares through the shade of the tall poplar trees are the prime spots to wander with little benches now and then across the village taken up by people reading a book or putting the world to rights. Out on the square families are playing boules, the national pastime of France. The gentle “clack” of metal hitting metal or the “thud” of ball falling on compacted earth, as animated discussions grip the group temporarily before another round is played. The gentle sounds of a guitar on a makeshift stage ready for the rock performance tomorrow wafts its way gently around the flickering sunbeams through the trees.
The ice-cream stalls and the bar are buzzing as last orders are called before the final beams of sunlight shimmer on the tall ramparts of the walled village. Bunting flags flutter in the breeze before another summer concert starts up, as the local catalan people, fiercely proud of their fantastic heritage, gather to celebrate another knees-up.
MidLife Crisis In France
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