Occasional Speeder had scheduled Gignac's market for this morning. "But let's not rush to the stalls first thing," she said. "Let's start by sitting down outside a café for a coffee." I agreed. Anything to break the iron ring of cliché.
Tasting the produce is all part of the game. But on one fruit stall the man ahead rootled through a pile of cherries like a truffle hound to get the fattest. Undignified.
A beggar proffered his message which I failed to read. I gave OS a 2 euro piece which she handed on. The beggar kissed her hand with his bearded mouth then took mine. Curtly I told him kisses weren't on my agenda.